Pop: Chapter 7b

     "Rick!  Why aren't you stopping?" Sam shouts as we continued down the street.  So much for 'Mr. Greenwood.'

    "I have to drop off my car and pick up some of the stuff for the party, Sam.  You two can walk up the street.  It isn't that far.  I usually jog at least six or seven miles every morning.  This won't be that hard." Rick replies with the faintest hint of a snarl.

    "We walk more than that every day at the manor.  I measured it once.  The walk is about the same as walking from the attic to the basement by the sunroom stairs about three, four times."

    "Why would you do such a stupid thing as that?"  Sam's sarcasm was spot on as Rick pulled into his driveway.

    "It will be a few minutes.  You two can go on ahead and let Pete in before his party supplies get too hot.  I'm pretty sure that is his truck waiting back there."  Rick was already opening his door before getting our response.  I bet he is starting to get tired of Sam's act too.

    Sam and I leave the truck with our bags and begin walking back to my house.  I keep my mouth shut the entire time, not wanting to give Sam's anger another opening.  Besides, I don't want to repeat myself when with Pete.

    "Hey Chris, Sam!  How's it going?"  Pete rushes down the sidewalk to meet us about two houses down, a huge smile plastered on his face.  He immediately pulls me into one of his infamous bear hugs.  I hug back, as strongly as I can without dropping anything.  I might not be as tall as him, but I'm guessing I'm stronger than him now.

    "Whoa.  Easy fella.  Don't want to crush me now."  Pete releases me.  "Wow.  You've really packed it on dude.  I don't think I was packing that much on back in my high school days."

    "Well, I am benching 250 now, but really . . ."

    "No effing way.  I gotta say, it looks great on you.  I wish I stayed a great as you have.  And Sam," Pete turns to shake Sam's hand.  "Have you grown some more?  I swear I didn't have to crane my neck so much the last time I saw you."

    At 6' 3", they aren't that many people that are taller than Pete, outside basketball usually, so that is saying something.

    "I don't think so Mr. Dentry," Sam sullenly replies.  He hand falls limply back to his side.

    Pete gives me the "what's-the-matter" look.  I briefly nod towards the house and hope Pete gets the message.

    "So, the new garage looks good.  Two-car and everything.  But, it's gonna be hard to pull into it with the bedroom in the way." Pete starts walking back to the house with Sam and me following.  Good, I can get everything over with faster.

    "Yeah.  When we," I look over to Sam, "and I mean mostly me, decided to remodel the upstairs before selling, I thought that the new owners might want a garage.  Well, when my Dad decided to sell the manor . . ."

    "Wait.  You're giving up that place.  Don't tell me you are moving back here after the wedding?" A small grin began to spread again on Pete.  "You didn't mention that in the invite."

    "Dad wanted to keep it secret until his plans were settled."  I takes another look at Sam.  He's staring daggers at me.  Okay.

    "Anyway, the job was just far enough along to change the garage to a two-car with an apartment above.  The master suite will be torn down to provide access.  A new laundry room/mudroom/half-bath will be going in it's place."

    "Wow.  Can't wait to see that.  How about the upstairs?" Pete had grabbed the bags from his truck while I finally got to the front door. 

    "I still haven't been able to see much of it.  The contractors and Rick sent pics, but there's nothing better than seeing it in person."

    I turn the key in the last lock and open the door.

Pop: Chapter 7a

     "Just follow me out to the car," Rick said.

    The concourse isn't too crowded, nor the lot.  Rick actually managed to find a spot fairly close, relatively speaking.

    "Where's the other one?" Sam peeps up as we draw near.  "I thought you would have brung Chris's."

    Rick's black SUV with the UK blue stripes down the side was in view.  

    "Sam, you know we wouldn't have all fit in his car. "  I leave my car with Rick when I'm in New York.  Safer that way since my house didn't have a garage.  Definitely less room than Rick's.

    We get in, Sam takes the back while I'm shotgun.

    "Buckle up boys.  Traffic is going to be a mess, even this time of day."  Rick always likes to joke when he's driving.  I'm pretty sure his Dad let him learn how to drive in his deputy's patrol car, at least when no one could see them.  I know I saw Rick take it out once senior year, but I could never prove it. Rick gets a little hyper driving because of those lessons.

    "So, how come you're the one picking us up?" I ask after we get on the highway.  "I thought you had some legal work today you had to finish before the party."

    "Well, I was supposed to," Rick takes the exit to downtown before answering.

    "I was supposed to be co-chairing a deposition for an associate's case, but his client never showed up.  After an hour, we finally heard that that client had chosen a different firm, and that they needed to set up a different time and place for the deposition.  I suddenly had my entire afternoon free with nothing to do.  I had no more meetings or hearings set up for the rest of the week, and nothing to prep for until next.  So, I went back home and worked a bit before driving out to pick you two up."

    "Wait, you're a corporate attorney."  I start running through my phone for local news.  "Sure, you've done some civil work fo me, but you focus on business issues.  In fact, you firm rarely takes criminal cases unless it is a long-time client."     

    My fingers flew across the screen as I remembered something I saw when I did a quick check on Lexington news while waiting for Rick.

    "Leigh Ann Bagwell was arrested last night for public intoxication and attempted assault at a local bar.  She has been in a bitter divorce with Charles Mosley for the last few weeks due to their business partnership."  They co-own four restaurants in Lexington and Richmond, as well as the bar where she was arrested.

    "Privilege continues even after a client decides to change attorneys,"  Rick replies.  "I can neither confirm nor deny your answer."  

    He has 'that' smirk of his while answering.  Looks like Leigh Ann is in a lot of trouble for trying to pick a fight with her ex's new girlfriend, while drinking away her profits.

    "Hey," Sam suddenly shouts as we take the corner to our street.  "What's with the house!?"

    I guess he's talking about the new garage behind and to the left of the house, and not the large red truck parked in the driveway, but I could be wrong.

Pop: Chapter Seven

     "How much longer will we have to wait?" Sam mumbled behind me.  "We've been here over fifteen minutes."

    "The line isn't that long.  Just be thankful we only brought carry-ons.  The wait at the baggage claims is going to be much longer than this."

    Sam and I were finishing up the check in at Bluegrass Airport.  The flight was uneventful, and that is putting it mild.  Barely three-fourths of first class had been booked, so Sam was able to get a seat not next to me.  Otherwise, we would've wound up at each others' throats somewhere over Pennsylvania.  Just one of the perks of being heirs to a former multi-millionaire family.  Not enough cash for your own private jet, I don't think, but more than enough to fly with the best perks.

    The plane touched down just after two, only an hour delay in arriving.  Strong storms in the west had been playing havoc with the flight schedules.  Right now, we were finishing up a half hour of check in, before finding some place to eat at the airport before our ride arrives.  Which might be late as well due to the flight delay.

    "Where do want to eat?  There's not that big of a selection here, but I'm sure that..."

    "I don't think I want anything," Sam cuts in.  "Besides, I think the ride's here."

    "It can't be.  They said it would be almost four before..."

    I trail off again as I see fairly tall man in a dress shirt and jeans waving a cardboard sign with 'BURTONS' on it.  "Why this?" I think as I rush up to one of my best friends in the world, Rick Morris.

    "You know, you could've have called or texted me that you were going to pick us up." I grab up and hug him, crushing that stupid sign between us.  "I thought your wife was going to come instead."

    "Well, she wasn't feeling well, and I unexpectedly had the afternoon off, so I volunteered.  Whoa.  Sam.  Have you had another growth spurt?  That shirt is really tight on you."

    "Whatever.  I going to hit the head before we leave." With a quick turn, Sam began to walk down the hall to the men's room up ahead.

    "What's up with Sam?  He's usually a lot happier than this," Rick asks.

    "Dad finally told him he's selling the manor.  He's been grumpy ever since. Now, what's up with you and the missus?  I hope it's not serious."

    "Oh, her.  She might be pregnant again.  It's not yet two months, but she's pretty sure." Rick looks kind of glum himself at this.

    "Congratulations, I guess.  Please tell me there's not a problem."

    "Not with her, but with the house. We've only have a master and two bedrooms.  We don't have room for another kid.  For goodness sake, Will is going to have to sleep on the couch in my home office when he stays there tonight.  RJ was in no mood to share a room with his sister, even for just one night."

    "Couldn't you remodel?  It can't be that hard."

    "We've talked to some of your contractors already.  There's just no way to expand.  One contractor told me that RJ's room was probably just a remodeled linen closet already.  We thought the room was too small for a reason, but we never thought it was a closet. While it okay for now, there's not going to be enough room for RJ once he hits puberty, if not sooner.  My own dad got his at eleven."

    "So, you're moving?"

    "I'm not sure if we can afford it.  My wife was just starting to plan to go back to working full time when this came up."

    "Couldn't your father-in-law help out?  You two both work for his law office.  Surely, he can find a way to get more work your way."

    "Maybe not.  It's a little hard to get into right now, and Sam is on his way back.  Okay."

    I look the way Rick is facing.  Sam is pulling up his zipper, in public, a few yards away from the men's room door.  Yeah, it is a long zipper, but don't show off like that in public. 

    "You know," I say to Sam, "you're eighteen now.  You could get in trouble for doing that in public."

    The disdain in his eyes drill into me.

    "Whatever.  Can we go now?  Thanks for picking us up Mr. Morris."

    At least he's polite to others.

Pop: Chapter 6b

     "So, what are you guys getting ready ..." Gil turns around to start a conversation, but stops after seeing Sam's surly disposition. "Okay, let's just head to LaGuardia."

    Gil keeps to himself for the rest of the drive.  I'm not sure if that makes him lucky or not.  I barely look up from my phone as I keep up with the tolls.  That's one thing I won't miss about New York.

    I used to not be able to fly.  On my first ever plane ride, on my way to Florida for spring break my sophomore year of college, I developed a severe headache and a steady nose bleed.  Fortunately, I was able to hide my condition from the flight crew, or else they would have had to make an emergency landing somewhere in Georgia.  As it was, my friends were able to get me to an ER before going to the hotel room we booked near the beach in Daytona.  I was stuck at the hospital for two days before the doctors finally found out what was wrong with me.

    Turned out, I had poor drainage from my sinuses due to obstructed nasal cavities.  I was lucky I was only on a plane.  I could have died if I had been somewhere else, like a submarine.  Somehow, the pressure caused a blood vessel to break.  It was a minor leak and had healed on its own, but the danger was there if I ever flew again.  Or somehow wanted to stay underwater in a sub for any length of time.  I was able to finally get to the hotel to spend the rest of my vacation.

    Which was a few hours.  Because of my newfound medical condition, I was going to have to take a bus back to Lexington.  The only direct departure that would get me back in time for classes was leaving that afternoon.  I managed a trade with one of my friends, Pete who had made his own way down separately.  It would've been the first time I had seen him in almost a year after he changed schools.

    Anyway, I managed to get back to UK in time,  but the lingering hatred over Pete for leaving me and Rick and Jim began to grow.  It would be years before I would finally forgive him.  I managed to keep my mother from finding out about my incident.  I was just starting to pay for my own insurance at the time, so it wasn't too hard.  

    For the next few years, I managed to go without air travel, until I met Sam.  I had to drive up to New York with him to iron out the secrets my Dad and him were keeping.  After from Dad had recovered enough from the transplant and latest rounds of treatment, I finally decided to get the out-patient surgery to fix my nose.  After that, we would take the plane back to Kentucky for most trips.  We did make one last road trip that fall to pick up some of my stuff before moving to the manor.  I traded in my old car for a new one then.

    "We're pulling in now.  You two better get ready."  Gil startles me out of my daze with his announcement.

    "Thanks, Gil.  Sorry we weren't good passengers today."  I deliberately try no to look at Sam as Gil comes to a stop at the unloading zone.

    "No prob, Mr. Burton.  You two be careful wherever you are going."  Gil stays inside the car while we get out.  He peels out as soon as Sam crosses the road to my side.

    "How long before we leave?  I'm hungry, and I need to hit the head."  Sam, always straight to the point.

    "At least another hour.  Clear weather for the entire east coast today, but there were some storms over the Rockies last night, so there might be a delay.  Plenty of time to eat before we have to clear for boarding."

    "I'll meet you over there," Sam points to breakfast hub to our left, "after I leave the restroom."

    Sam jogs to the right to the massive restrooms.  Yeah, this is going to be a fun day.  Nothing else bad could happen.

Pop: Chapter 6a

     I go back to my room to make sure I have finished getting ready.  I don't have much to pack, as I still keep around a third of my clothes at the Lexington home, mostly my older stuff.  I bought so many things new since I moved here and started really exercising.  I needed the new wardrobe just to keep up. However, I usually switch things around every few months whenever I go back for a trip.  Looks like I'll be moving everything now.

    Today, I only need my computer tote and a small bag for toiletries and accessories.  Everything else is for home.  My old and new one.  I grab the bags and turn out the lights as I leave the room. Sam is rushing back from the bathroom, wearing a wet towel around his waist.  I guess he didn't shower last night after all.  As he notices me, he stops for a second before going into his room, throwing the towel back at me as he closes the door. 

    I catch it before it hits the floor and rush and take it with me downstairs.  There's no time to wash it before we need to leave, and I will not let a wet towel lay around for over a week to mold.  I find an old plastic bag and stuff the towel into it.  I then stuff the towel into my own bag.  Fortunately, I under packed it for just such an emergency.  I'm just lucky Sam didn't chose a bigger towel.  I hate having to do laundry so soon after getting back, but it can't be helped.

    "I'm here.  Are we ready to go, now?"  

    Sam had stuck up behind me.  I din't think he would be that fast after his little tirade, but he's dressed, barely.  He has on a white tee that just barely covers him.  It must be a year or two old to be so tight on him.  The shorts are a little better.  Black, knee-length, and somewhat loose.  I suppress a sigh.

    "Just need to make sure everything is off.  Did you turn off the lights upstairs?  And where's your bags?"

    "I left them in the hall.  And there's only one.  You had me leave a bunch of stuff the last time there."  That was over spring break, so it would be a mix of winter and summer.  It should be fine, as long as he's not growing more.

    "Fine.  Meet me in the hall while I finish up."

    "Aren't we eating before we go?"  Sam and his stomach.  He must be in another growth spurt.

    "No.  We'll eat on the way."

    Sam wanders into the pantry to steal a protein bar, and who knows what, while I take a last sprint around the house to make sure everything is off, again.

    When I return, Sam is munching on one of my blueberry bars by the front door.  I set the alarm just as our ride pulls up into the driveway.  What can I say?  I have a perfect sense of timing.

    The driver gets out.  I don't recognize him.  No.  I do.  

    "Gil?  What's happened to you?"  His hair was shaved off and so was his 'stache.

    "It's different.  Solidarity for a friend starting cancer treatments."  Gil pats his bald head as he waits for a response. "Do you need any help with your bags?"

    "No thanks," I respond.  Sam has already bounded into the back seat on the passenger's side, my favorite spot. I'll have to walk around to the other side to get in.  

    As soon as we are both situated and buckled in, Gil slips behind the wheel to start out.

    "Where to?" he asks.  "Just to make sure my schedule hasn't changed."  

    "LaGuardia.  Our flight leaves in two hours."

Pop: Chapter Six

     "Sam!  Wake up!  We're going to be late!  We only have another half hour or so before we'll be leaving!"  I'm yelling at my brother while pounding on his door, trying to make sure he's up.  

    "I'm not going," he mumbles through the door.  So, he's awake and still in bed.

    "Sam, you have to go.  You have that meeting with UK's swim coach and the rest of the team Friday. It will be easier to go with me today than reschedule things to go there later.  Even if you decide to change schools, you have to show up.  You might have problems if you don't."

    Because of Sam's late declaration and top showings at the last few meets of his senior year, Sam never got to have many of the official meetings on campus that most new athletes get.  As it was, he had to jump through a few extra hoops to get things done, but everything was above-book and legal.  No shadowy deals or anything of that nature.  Still, he still needs a few more last minute details to finish up on before fall.

    Suddenly, the door flies open and Sam is standing there, buck naked, with a grimace on his face.  I     quickly turn my head.

    "Fine!  I'll go, but I don't like it."  Sam slams the door back.

    "Just make sure you're wearing something appropriate."  At least he was excited about something, just not the trip.

    Everything after we got home yesterday afternoon was horrible.  Sam went up to his room and sulked the day away.  I went back to the library to work some more on The Third Generation.  I discovered the note I left just after where I had stopped at earlier.  I had forgotten to put in the subplot about the origins of  "The Wanderers."  This was a concept based on a really old supplement that had since been declared culturally inappropriate and somewhat derogatory.  I had been working on a new way to present this group with a some game designers soon after I posted my first stories online.  We just had the new material okayed late last year, and it had been well-received.  Now, I had to incorporate it into my novel, just so that the timelines would line up.  A hassle, but well worth it.

    I finished up the afternoon with a basic weightlifting session.  I usually don't go three days in a row, but I knew I would be too busy for another session for the next few days.  Besides, ti was mostly accessory work.  Fairly light and easy.  I didn't improve my mood as well as I had hoped.

    I was able to get Sam to go out for dinner with me by evening.  I didn't want to cook and leave either trash or leftovers to wait around until a get back a week from now.  We went in his electric eyesore down to Rosettis for the Strombolis, Sam's favorite.  He barely ate or talked to me the entire time.  I was just lucky he sat at the same table.  He didn't even want the radio on the ride home.  Pure silent treatment.

    He went back to his room while I finished getting ready and watching some television before turning in a little early myself.  I think he took a shower.  At least I hope so.  

Pop: Chapter 5b

     "Wait, what?!" Sam sputters out.  "What do you mean by 'sell the house'?  How can you sell our home?"

    "Sam,"  Dad begins, "that place hasn't been my home for years, if ever truly.  For goodness sakes, I almost had to take a piss in the laundry sink because I didn't think I could make it all the way to the hall bathroom and back without the wheelchair at your own graduation party.  That is no way for a grown man to live."

    "Dad, language."

    "For goodness sakes, Chris.  Sam's old enough to hear it.  He's probably said worse in front of his friends for a while now." Dads, but he has a point.

    "What about the memories? What about me? Where will I stay when I transfer to your school next year?" Sam starts to insist.

    Here it comes.

    "Memories!  You have no idea about how I feel.  You don't need an old, stuffy house for memories.  And you aren't ever going to that school either."  Dad looks like would say something else, but he turns to look at me first. He stares for a second, before turning back to Sam.  I get the hint and stay out of the conversation for now.

    "As to where you'll be staying, freshmen have to stay in the dorms, don't they?  For weekends and holidays, you can stay with me or with Chris and Addie at their place, although I think they deserve some privacy the first few weeks after the wedding."

    "Wait a minute."  Sam turns back to face me.  "You and Addie.  Last Christmas, you mentioned that you were going to remodel the upstairs after deciding to stop taking in renters.  You knew.  All the way back then that Dad was going to sell the house.  Didn't you?"

    "No, I didn't." I take a breathe before continuing.  "Last December, I was planning to remodel the upstairs before selling the place.  But this February, Dad informed me that he wanted to get a job elsewhere and move.  He was hoping for Kentucky, based on his history there from when he met my mother.  The project hadn't started yet, so I had the time to consult with Addie and we decided that Lexington would be the best place to stay.  She started looking at job offers while I contacted the contractors.  We were able to make enough adjustments so that upstairs would be done by June, and other changes could be started and done by fall, for the most part.  Honestly, I wanted to tell you, but Dad wanted to keep everything hushed until he got the confirmation."

    "No.  It was Addie wasn't it?  She's the one who put you up to this, this disaster.  She just wants me out of the way.  Forcing me and Dad out of the picture so she has you all to herself.  She hates us and will do anything to get us out of the way, even if it means losing everything."  Sam is raising his voice, all but screaming now.

    "SAM!  Don't put the blame on your brother and Addie.  This is all my idea, as I said."  Dad takes a stern approach.  Not sure if that will help. "It will take weeks, if not months to go through everything for the move.  I haven't even looked for a house down there yet.  And even after the move, it could take months, years even, before we sell the house.  Stuff will be here at least until the end of the year.  After we get back from Lexington, we'll start going through the personal things and the artwork.  They are the most important.  By the time Chris gets back from his honeymoon, we'll be able to start going through the furniture and stuff.  Some we'll take, some stays here for the realtors to deal with, the rest will be sold off.  It's not he end of the world, Sam.  This, this is for the best."

    How Dad manages to keep some much to himself is amazing.  I try to give him a look and nod to encourage him to tell Sam the rest, but. he deliberately tries not to make eye contact.  Meanwhile, Sam has somehow managed to keep on eating, almost cleaning his plate.  I've barely gotten halfway through my portion.  On some level, I'm kind of glad I haven't found a way to finish.

    We are all quiet for a few minutes, as Sam and Dad finish their meal.  I take a few more nibbles before leaving much of mine untouched.

    "I think it's time we leave, Dad.  We will all need the time to get ready for our trips tomorrow."

    "I think you're right, Chris.  You two best be off.  Call me later tonight," he pointedly looks at Sam,"both of you.  If either of you need to talk, or if the Lexington plans have changed.  You don't have to clear the table.  I think I can manage that on my own."

    Both Sam and I take our plates over to the sink, after I scrape mine back onto the serving tray.  Dad will either toss it or freeze it.

    "See you soon, Dad.  Call you tonight."  Sam just grumbles and nods Dad's way as we walk back to the door and into the Beretta.

    The silence builds as I drive us down the street.  I have to say something, without breaking Dad's trust.

    "You know, there might be something good that comes out of this.  If you just . . ."  A small pop interrupts me.  The stink hits me a second or two later.

    "Sam, did you just" I pause as Sam lifts up his left leg and lets out another one.  Longer, louder, and much smellier.

    I quickly start cranking the window down.  How drivers lived without power windows is beyond me. I all but stick my head out so I can breathe.

    "You know, you're just punishing yourself.  Remember, the passenger's window has been sticking lately.  You won't be able to get it down."

    Sam blindly stares at me for another second before he tries to grab the window handle to roll it down, to no avail.  He just glare at me back.  Just another one of the traits of the typical Burton male:  brown hair, hazel eyes, and emotional bouts of intense flatulence.  

    I grab my protein bar at the next stop sign and take a few bites to help get the stink out of my mouth. Besides, I'm still hungry. I'm glad I ate so little of the lasagna.  There's no way I could handle a trip with the threat of so much methane.  I just hope it's out of our systems before tomorrow.