“Still getting used to it,” Jake said.
“That’s right,” Laura said. “It still hasn’t quite sunk in.”
Hugs and handshakes were exchanged.
“I must say, Jake,” Mr. Yamashito told him, “that the relative frugality of this wedding is a refreshing change from your normal spending habits.”
“I agree,” said Mrs. Yamashito. “Although flying the three of us here first class was a trivial waste of your net worth.”
“You didn’t like the first class travel?” Pauline asked them.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Mrs. Yamashito said. “It was enjoyable. It’s just one of those things that makes accountants cringe. Paying outrageously extra just for a little bigger of a seat and some free drinks.”
“And a less crowded toilet,” Jake said. “Don’t forget that part.”
“And speaking of unnecessary expenses,” Mr. Yamashito put in, “Jill tells us that they’re getting ready to break ground on construction of your new home.”
“That’s right,” Jake said. “The road in has been finished, the power lines have been strung...”
“One thousand, six hundred dollars per hundred feet, or fraction thereof,” Jill said with a shake of her head. “And it was two thousand, six hundred, and fifty-five feet from the power lines on the road to the house site.”
“Great Jehoshaphat!” Mr. Yamashito cried, imagining the horror. “That’s more than forty-two thousand dollars!”
“Just for power lines alone?” Mrs. Yamashito said.
“Well ... I can deduct it as a construction cost, can’t I?” Jake said weakly.
“That’s not the point!” Mr. Yamashito told him. “You did all this for a house with a view?” He turned to his daughter. “Jill, haven’t you explained to Jake about how paying extra for property with a view is never in the best interests of the investor?”
“I explained it to him, Dad,” Jill said sadly. “Jake doesn’t listen.”
“He certainly does not,” Mrs. Yamashito said, shaking her head once again.
He endured a few more minutes of financial lectures from his accounting firm before breaking free and making his way over to the next table. Here, Phil and Ted were sitting with Dexter Price and Bobby Z, the former two seemingly in awe that they were hanging with the latter two.
As they approached, Ted was in the midst of one of his paramedic stories.
“ ... and so, the dude finally gets around to telling us that he’s got something stuck up his ass and that’s why he called us. I ask him what’s up there and he says it’s an apple.”
“An apple?” Dexter asked, raising his eyebrows.
“A motherfuckin’ apple,” Ted confirms. “So, naturally, I ask him how an apple managed to find its way up his ass.”
“A fair question,” said Bobby Z with a chuckle.
“Right!” Ted said. “He tells us that the apple had been sitting on the edge of the tub while he was taking a shower and he sat down on it and up it went. And he seriously expected us to believe that shit. Of course! We all bring our fruit into the shower with us, don’t we? And then suddenly find a need to sit down on the edge of the tub while we’re showering with our fruit. So ... anyway, we get to the hospital and they x-ray his abdomen, and, sure enough, there’s a goddamn apple up his ass. You could see the seeds and everything.”
“I wouldn’t even think you could fit something as big as an apple up there,” said Phil.
“Somehow he managed it,” Ted said with a shake of the head. “And that’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of people sticking up there. My friend Booger Breath—he works the southside, and they call him Booger Breath because he’s always picking his nose and putting it in his mouth—he had a guy that stuck a fuckin’ light bulb up their once. And Rennie, one of the nurses at St. Francis, she told me a guy came in once with a three-cell mag light jammed in there.”
“Big end first or little end?” asked Phil.
Ted did not answer the question. “Anyway,” he said, “there’s one thing I don’t understand about all this; maybe y’all can help me with it since you’re all gay. What’s up with the compulsion to put things up the ass? I don’t get it. I can’t even deal with the doc putting his fuckin’ finger up there for the old prostate handshake. Why would anyone want to stick something as big as an apple up there? Or a fuckin’ mag-light?”
Bobby Z gave a shrug. “I don’t think it’s a gay thing. I’ve known quite a few gay men in my time, as you might imagine, and none of them have ever wanted anything but a dick stuck up the back door. A lot of them don’t even like that up there.”
“I concur,” said Dexter. “And if someone I was with did suggest putting something up there besides a dick—either my ass or his—I’d find myself heading for the door as quick as possible.”
“Definitely a deal breaker,” Phil agreed.
“Even if you’re a bottom boy?” Laura asked him.
Phil looked at her and smiled warmly. “Especially if you’re a bottom boy,” he said. “You don’t want to stretch things out, after all.”
Jake, who still did not know what a bottom boy was (or if there was a corresponding thing known as a top boy) smiled politely but kept his mouth closed. It seemed safer.
The four men all gave Laura hugs and shook hands warmly with Jake, offering their congratulations on the marriage and complimenting the ceremony.
“And we definitely appreciate the accommodations and the first-class travel,” Ted said.
“Agreed,” Phil said. “I was happy enough that you paid for our airfare and room, but you went all out and paid for the deluxe.”
“I like my friends to have a good time,” Jake told them. “And I owe both of you a significant debt. Ted, we couldn’t have done our first albums without you and Ben. And Phil, aside from being a badass backup singer for us, you helped Laura with her little dental problem that one time. Things would’ve turned out a lot differently if you weren’t there, I think.”
“Ah yes, Dr. Dave,” Phil said with a smile. “Punching his face in was actually one of the high points of my life.”
“This sounds like an interesting story,” Dexter said.
“It’s also a bit personal,” Laura said. “I’d prefer it not be passed around.”
“Right,” Phil said. “Sorry, Dex. It’ll have to remain a mystery.”
“Understood,” Dexter said with a shrug. He then looked at the happy couple. “So, what’s the word on the next albums from you and Celia?”
“We’re still in the composition stage, and early in it at that,” Jake said. “Right now, we’re both still getting a lot of airplay from the last albums and sales are still high. There’s no real hurry to start putting the next albums together.”
“I understand that,” Dexter said. “What I was wondering was if you’re going to be needing me for the sax tracks on the next go-around or is Mrs. Kingsley here gonna be the one to do them?”
“Oh...” Jake said, glancing at his wife for a minute. She was flushing a little, although if it was because of the question or because of being called ‘Mrs. Kingsley’ again, he couldn’t be sure. “We really haven’t thought that far ahead yet, to tell you the truth. What do you think, hon?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I haven’t played much of anything since we came off tour. I’ve been thinking a little about going back to the studio and doing some sessions, but ... well ... I haven’t really taken any initiative in that direction.”
Z and Dex looked at each other. Z then said: “Well, truth be known, I’m ready to start putting together some tunes for my next album. I need a sax player, naturally. I love working with you, Teach—you know that, right?—but Dex here was just telling me that he doesn’t have anything going right now unless you and Celia will be needing him, and ... well ... Dex and I always did work well together, as long as we could keep our personal lives separate.”