Testing, Testing ... 1,2,3

Chapter 8

“Hey, Gus.”

“Hi, Curtis, how’s it shakin’?”

“No bad. How about you?”

Gus frowned and debated how to answer that. He’d been in a bit of a funk all week, but he didn’t want to get into that with Curtis. “I’m okay,” was all he said.

“Are you busy this weekend?”

“Yeah, afraid I am. I’m going to my Pop’s house. Did you have something in mind?”

“Well, midterms are almost over, so I want to start planning my party,” Curtis explained.

“Your adoption party?” Gus laughed.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that, but I think we need a better name for this shindig.”

“You’re right. How about a ‘Welcome to the Family Party’, like you had after Justin’s show?”

“That’s better but it’s not catchy enough.”

“Hm,” Gus said thoughtfully. “New family, let’s celebrate! How’s that?”

“Much better,” Curtis chuckled. “You planning to follow your father into advertising?”

Gus thought about that for a minute. “Actually, I’m thinking about getting a portfolio together to submit to PIFA,” Gus confessed.

“Wow! I didn’t know you were an artist like Justin.”

“I’m not. It would be an application to get into photography.”

“Oh. I didn’t even know you could study photography at PIFA,” Curtis admitted.

Gus chuckled. “I’m not sure I did either, until my Mom and Pop suggested it to me at Justin’s show.”

“How come?”

“I did most of the photography for the Fractal movie he made. All the shots of the gardens and flowers and bees and things were mine.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, I was amazed that people thought it was so good.”

“Sounds like you might have found a career.”

“I don’t know about that,” Gus said shaking his head. “I have to get into PIFA first. It’s really hard to get a spot there.”

“I bet.”

“Well, enough about me. Did you want to get together and plan your party?” Gus asked.

“That would be great,” Curtis said enthusiastically. “I’ve never planned a party.”

“I haven’t really either, but we could go to Auntie Emm if we need help.”

“Who’s Auntie Emm?” Curtis asked looking bewildered.

“Oh, Emmett Honeycutt. You’ve met him before. He planned Bree’s party and the opening for Justin’s art show. He has a party planning business.”

“Why do you call him Auntie Emm?”

“It’s a long story,” Gus said as the bell rang calling them back into class. “I’ll tell you when we get together.”

“How about next weekend?”

“I usually go to Pop’s. He’s letting me practice driving, and I help with riding lessons at the Farm.”

“Boy, you sure are busy.”

“Just lucky I guess,” Gus said feeling better when he thought about all the things he was involved in and how good his life really was.

“I’d love to ride a horse someday,” Curtis said as they walked up the steps to the school.

“Want me to ask my Pop if you could join us?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Gus laughed. “Who else do you see me talking to?”

“Yes, I mean no, I don’t know, I’d have to ask my dads.”

“Then do that and I’ll talk to you during the week,” Gus said as he started down the hall to his next class.

“Thanks, Gus,” Curtis replied wondering how he had got so lucky all of a sudden.

 

*****
 

“So, Pop, you going to tell us what’s going on?” Gus asked.

It was Friday evening and he and JR were riding back to the cottage with Brian and Bree. Bree was sitting in her car seat in the back with JR beside her. Gus was riding up front with his father.

“What makes you think something’s going on?”

“You said there was when I talked to you on the phone,” Gus reminded him.

“Yeah, you’re right. I need to talk to all of you and I thought we could do it on the ride home.”

“So tell us,” Gus urged. He was getting impatient and a little worried.

“Tell us, Dada,” Bree said picking up on the thread of the conversation.

“On Saturday we’ve invited a reporter to the cottage to take pictures and interview us,” Brian began. “If all of you are okay with that, the reporter will probably want to ask you some questions too.”

“How come, Pop?” Gus asked. “Usually you want total privacy. You never want to talk to reporters, and you never invite them to the cottage.” Gus knew that exposure to the media was about the last thing his father would want.

“That’s correct,” Brian agreed. “And I wouldn’t be doing this now, but one of the art critics, the guy from the Dispatch, has been following Justin around Pittsburgh and taking pictures of him with the twins.”

“Twins? You mean Tre` and Troi`?” Gus asked. Brian nodded. “Why are they doing that?”

“They’ve got the gossip mill churning with the idea that Justin and I are breaking up.”

“No!” Gus gasped. “Why would they do that?”

“You and Daddy aren’t breaking up, are you?” Bree asked. There was fear in her voice.

“No, Squirt, we definitely are not. But that declaration doesn’t seem to make the rumors go away, no matter how many times we’ve told them.”

“So, who is this reporter? Not the guy from the Dispatch?” Gus asked.

“I wouldn’t allow him within fifty miles of the cottage. Fucking asshole!”

“Who is it then?”

“The reporter from the Times. He has a good reputation and he has agreed to be very fair. He will report only what he sees, no innuendoes.”

“What’s inn-you-end-ohs?” Bree asked struggling to say the word exactly as she had heard it.

“Gossip, rumors, things that aren’t true,” Brian explained.

“What do you want us to do, Pop?”

“Just be yourselves. We want this guy to see how our family works and how ‘normal’ we actually are.” Brian took his hands off the steering wheel to make quotes in the air around the word normal.

“Pop, hands on the wheel at all times,” Gus reminded him.

Brian chuckled. “Got it, Sonny Boy.”

“I tell him I love my daddies, Dada,” Bree declared.

“That’s good, Squirt. How about you, JR? Are you okay with this?”

“I don’t really see why I’m included,” JR replied uncertainly. “I’m not exactly part of your family.”

“Yes you are,” Brian said.

JR smiled. “I’ll be happy to talk to the reporter, but I don’t really get it.”

Gus decided he had figured it out. “You want the reporter to see our extended family, don’t you, Pop? You want him to see how you guys live, and that you love each other and a lot of other people too. JR’s my sister, so she’s included. Am I right?”

“Give the boy a cigar,” Brian said with a chuckle. “But not for a few years,” he added.

“I’m in, Pop. You, JR?” Gus asked.

“Yep.”

“Me too,” Bree piped up.

“Looks like you’ve got your team,” Gus laughed.

“I couldn’t ask for a better one,” Brian told his son.

Gus smiled as Brian pulled into the general store a few miles before the turn-off to the cottage. “Why are we stopping here? Do you need something?” Gus asked.

“No, I thought you might like to drive the rest of the way,” Brian said with a smirk.

“Me? On the road … with passengers?” Gus couldn’t believe his ears.

“You have to start sometime. I liked that you reminded me to keep my hands on the wheel. It showed me that you’re taking driving much more seriously.”

“I am, Pop, but are you sure?’

“Yes, switch places.”

They traded seats and Gus buckled himself in. He checked and adjusted the rearview mirror, brought the seat up slightly and then took a deep breath. “Everybody ready?” he asked.

“You’ll be fine, Gus,” JR told him.

“Be careful, Gus,” Bree said remembering Gus’ skidding up and down the lane.

“I will, short stuff.”

“Let’s go, Sonny Boy, before it gets dark.”

“Right, Pop.”

Gus put his foot on the brake and shifted into drive. He inched forward to the edge of the road. He looked both ways then back to the lane he wanted to pull into. Nothing was visible so he pulled out. He kept the speed right on the limit. Brian watched carefully everything his son did. Gus guided the car in its lane all the way along. He had no trouble keeping the speed and direction steady. He started to slow down as they approached the turn into the road leading to the cottage. A few minutes later he pulled the vehicle up in front of the cottage, put it in park, turned off the ignition and put on the emergency brake.

“How did I do, Pop?’ he asked.

“Perfect,” Brian said with a big smile.

“Perfect,” Bree and JR said at the same time.

Gus couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as they headed into the house.

 

*****
 

“This can’t be right,” Morgan stated as she and Richard turned onto the private lane that led to Edna’s Treasures.

Not only was Morgan, Richard’s photojournalist, but she was also his wife. They had met in college, while studying the tools of their trade. They fell in love over reporting the news.

“He said the first thing we’d see is a small cottage with a white picket fence. Well, that’s a small cottage and there’s the fence,” Richard snarked. Morgan elbowed her husband in the ribs.

“Hey, I’m driving here!” Richard groused good-naturedly. He had slowed down to a crawl to view the cottage and so that Morgan could photograph it.

“Who lives here? Did Kinney say?”

“Yeah, he did. He said Emmett Honeycutt and his partner Drew Boyd. Kinney said they gave permission to photograph the outside.”

“Wow. I thought they lived in the city.”

“They do. But use this place in the off season. Boyd is still connected to the Ironmen. And he just opened that sporting goods store.”

“I know, I bought your sneakers there. Did you know a portion of the net from his store goes to the Jason Kemp clinic?”

“They say Kinney played a part in that too.”

“You’re the journalist, go and journal.”

“I’m an art critic. I’m not supposed to be writing an expose.”

“Who says? Kinney called you because he wants to set the record straight. Ask him.”

“Maybe I will. You done here?” Richard asked Morgan.

“Yeah, I have enough. Let’s see what’s up the road.”

Richard put his foot on the gas to continue up the lane toward Edna’s Treasures. As they pulled up to park in front of the conjoined cottages they couldn’t help noticing the house at the end.

“One of these things is not like the other,” Morgan sang making Richard laugh.

“When you’re right, you’re right. That house does seem out of place,” Richard commented as they both stared at Rachel and George’s modest home then looked back to the cottages.

“Let me get a few shots. This place reminds me of when we spent that summer driving around the U.K. We saw a lot of cottages that look just like this,” Morgan commented as she quickly took her photos before they walked up to the front door. “Look at these beautiful roses.” Morgan closed her eyes to inhale the soft scent, admiring the arbor with its twining roses.

“Makes no sense. Kinney and Taylor must be worth millions and yet they live in the middle of nowhere in a tiny gingerbread house,” Richard mumbled as he raised his hand to use the brass knocker. The door opened a few seconds later.

“Mr. Kinney?” Richard asked as he extended his hand.

“John Anderson,” John said as he shook Connolly’s hand and guided them into the cottage. “I’m Brian’s brother,” John added as he smiled. “You must be Mr. Connolly and Morgan?” John looked perplexed. Morgan giggled.

“He likes confusing people. I’m Morgan Connolly, Richard’s wife and his photographer. And you look almost exactly like Brian Kinney.”

“We like confusing people too,” John said and they all laughed. “My brother is out back grilling like a fiend. He sent me to give the tour. So let me start here, welcome to Edna’s Treasures.”

“That’s an unusual name,” Richard said as he jotted down some notes.

“We’ll explain it later. This is Brian and Justin’s end of the cottages,” John said as he showed the Connolly’s into the living room.

“That’s a Kinney!” Richard exclaimed with a gasp as they viewed the painting over the mantel. Morgan was snapping away.

“Yes, that’s John Aidan Brian Kinney and his lover Patrick Taylor,” John announced proudly.

“The resemblance is amazing,” Morgan stated the obvious. Richard nodded.

“Kitchen,” John said as he waved his hand toward the quaint kitchen.

“That’s an AGA!” Morgan snapped away at the cobalt blue stove. “Wherever did he find it?”

“Um, he didn’t. I did. Brian hired my company to restore this cottage which was basically a few walls and a hearth when he and Jennifer Taylor found it. This was Brian’s wedding gift to Justin.”

“Unbelievable,” Richard murmured as Morgan continued to take pictures. The Connolly’s were at the cottage less than fifteen minutes and already Morgan had taken dozens of pictures.

“Uncle John? Oh, hi!”

“Mr. Kinney? Thank you for inviting us,” Connolly began.

“Um, you’re welcome but I’m Gus. Brian Kinney is my dad.”

Richard and Morgan looked at Gus and John then up at the Kinney portrait and then again at the two Brian look-a-likes.

“Just how many of you are there?” Morgan asked.

“Too many,” Brian snarked as he came in from the porch. Taking off his oven mitt to shake hands, Brian introduced himself. “I’m Brian Kinney and I hope you’re both hungry!”
 

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