This is a work of fiction. Names of characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously; any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Dennis Milholland – All rights reserved. Other than for private, not-for-profit use, no part of this work may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in any form or by any means, other than that intended by the author, without written permission from the copyright holder.

Careful! This is a work of fiction containing graphic descriptions of sex between males and critiques of religion and governments. And last but not least, Nifty would like your donations.

Farewell, Uncle Ho

by Dennis Milholland

questions and comments are welcome. www.milholland.eu / dennis@milholland.eu

Chapter 63 (Fri. Mar. 24)

Marv laughed when I excused myself for intruding on his Sabbath, and said with believable sincerity that it was good to hear from me. Apparently, Major Horowitz had phoned him to renew old acquaintances. He'd told Marv to say hello, if I ever got in touch. And, of course, he'd known better than to tell Marv how he knew me, due to attorney-client privilege, so I explained.

When I asked about Bat, Marv told me that things had been better. Professionally, everything was tops, but Bat seemed to have become withdrawn. "He misses you, Bubeleh."

"And I miss him, too. I miss both of you." I looked at Gerry, who was roughhousing with Gordon in front of the fireplace. "But things are different, now." Seeing Gerry, made me able to curb my desire to ask about Lon. "Um, I'm off to Legal Clerk School, after AIT at Fort Knox."

"So, the plan's working?" Marv chuckled to himself, but sounded as if he were becoming more distant, so I got to the point of my call.

I cut a deal with him for his fees and told him I needed an official offer to purchase the house on Fremont Avenue, Borough of Richmond, from one Donald Bates Healy, Senior for forty three thousand. Marv knew the area and agreed that it would be an excellent deal if it went through. I told him that the deed was to be made out jointly to Gordon Healy and Ju-Long Clark. He gave me his account details, into which I would transfer forty five thousand plus his fees, to cover incidentals and he would pay out the remainder in cash.

Since I wasn't sure of the time in Hong Kong, I asked Gordon how many hours difference there were between there and here. He told me that they were one hour ahead of Vietnam, so they would be thirteen hours ahead of us, which would make it just after eight in the morning on Saturday.

I wondered if Dr. Liang's bank worked this early on Saturday, and how long it would take the overseas operator to put the call through. My questions were answered, when the phone rang and the operator connected me with a friendly female voice. "Welcome to the Hong Wam Bank" and asked for my access code. Both her British English and Cantonese Chinese were flawless and free of any accent.

When Gordon heard my speaking Chinese, he sat up to listen. My balance was, in fact, USD 380,000, and yes, she would wire the money into Marv's account, immediately. "It should arrive before the start of business on Monday."

I thanked her and hung up. Gordon was in fits of tears, and Gerry had moved into cuddle him. "What's going on?" Gerry was wondering what was wrong.

"We just bought this house." I said truthfully.

"What do you mean 'we', Lone Ranger?" Gerry laughed. "I don't have any money."

"If you're my guy, you do." I leaned over to give Gordon a kiss on his cheek.

"Why are you doing this?" He seemed a lot more upset than he should have been.

"Because other than my Gerry," I brushed some of his tears away. It was obvious that the flood gates of many years of pent-up emotion had opened. "you and Ju-Long, Cam, Gran and the Bandit are the only family I've got." I put my head onto Gerry's lap and pulled Gordon along with me. "For right now, we need a home of record and a place to stay when we're on leave. Then when we go to Canada, we'll have to ask you to help us out with certain things, so you'll need a home other than on a sandbar in the Atlantic, even if it is built on a barge."

We laughed a little, and Gordon got up to get the Scotch, wiping his eyes as he went. "Let's sit over there." He motioned to the dining-room table. "We have to make some plans. Ju-Long and I have been flying by the seat of our pants for so long, we won't know what to do." He hurried back through the door to the dining room with the bottle and glasses in hand.

"First off," I pointed to the telephone on the window seat of the bay window. "get your dad's approval of the deal."

"What if he says no?" Gerry wasn't as optimistic as Gordon and I were, but then again, Gerry had had precious little to be optimistic about in his past experiences.

I laughed. "Then he's fucking stuck with paying for a four hundred dollar, twenty minute phone call to Hong Kong."

Gordon almost spilled the Scotch. Gerry was bemused at the thought of Gordon's bastard dad getting screwed like that. And I pointed to the phone.

"I can't do it, Ben." Gordon, the Purple-Heart recipient, was shaking like a leaf.

Knowing that I wouldn't want to talk with my old man, either, I took a sip of whisky. "Okay, give me the number." He did; I dialed.

"Hello." A gentle, smooth voice answered.

"Good evening. This is Doctor Benton Loughery calling for Mr. Donald Healy, Senior." I thought about saying 'Doctor Benton Loughery, the Faggot Chink', but this wasn't about me or any hurt feelings on my part. This was about getting stability into Gordon's and Ju-Long's life. For some reason, the thought of Cam growing up on Fire Island chilled me to the bone.

"This is he." This well-spoken voice was not what I had been expecting.

But I decided to keep to my formal, assertive mode. "Mr. Healy, it has come to my attention, that you are thinking of selling your home on Fremont Avenue, is that correct?"

"Yes, it is."

"Would you entertain an offer of forty three thousand, payable next week, as soon as you have signed and returned the contract that my attorney, Mr. Brandstifter, will be sending you, should you agree?"

"That was less than I was going to ask." He cleared his throat. "But since you're inquiring on behalf of my son, Gordon, I'll take it."

"How did you know?" I was grinning, looking at Gordon, who was still shaking.

Mr. Healy laughed. "He's the only one I've mentioned it to." He coughed. "Well, other than my oldest son, who relayed the message to Gordon."

"Then, shall I have Mr. Brandstifter send you the contract?" I pressed him slightly, to keep him from backing out.

"Certainly." He coughed, again. "And Dr. Loughery, would you please tell my son that I'm sorry?"

"I'd be glad to, Mr. Healy." I had to fight back a couple of tears of joy. "Good bye." I touched the cradle and dialed Marv's number. "Hey, Marv, Ben here. Just talked to the seller, and he's agreed to forty three. So, forget the offer, I'll be by tomorrow to sign and we can send him the contract by courier." I gave him the address, which Gordon had written down. "Oh, and the money and your fees will be in the escrow account by Monday. See you, tomorrow." I disconnected the line.

"He accepted?" Gordon was still shaking.

"Yeah," I took another sip of the single malt. "and he said to tell you that he's sorry."

At that, Gordon propped his elbows on the table, put his face into his hands and wept uncontrollably.

***

We sat at the dining-room table and drank. When the pizza arrived, we switched to beer and vodka. "What d'you guys wanna do to me, when we get upstairs?"

"That's pretty much up to you, Gordon." I thought his question to be a little too willing. "What would you like?"

"Aw, who gives a shit what I want." His eyes had gone boozy glazed. "It's your house, now. You decide."

Gerry jumped when I slapped the table with the palm of my hand, but Gordon didn't flinch. "Goddamn it, Healy!" He looked up, and his grin became snidely provocative. "This house is going to be in your and Ju-Long's name as co-owners."

"And where do you get off buying us a house?" He didn't seem angry, just defeated.

"Because that's what real family does." I retorted, trying to keep my own anger at bay. "As opposed to our, yours, Gerry's and my, dysfunctional clusters of assholes, who are legally defined as our families." I was working myself up, despite my resolve not to. "Why the Fuck didn't your old man just give you this house instead of making you live in a floating lunchbox on a public-park sandbar? Ask yourself that question before you question my motives of buying your home back for you."

He thought about it, took a deep breath and a shot of vodka. "I guess what's really bugging me, is where you get all this money from." He looked at me sadly, as if to ask me if it's money that had to be laundered.

I took some deep breaths myself, seeing his point. "It's totally legal money that I earned honestly. Bat Khan, the Mongolian, I was telling you about--"

"--hold on. Does he own the Khan Real Estate Agency over in Brooklyn?" Gordon looked surprised and, at the same time, impressed.

"The very same." I knocked back another shot of vodka. "He sold a big chunk of property in east central Brooklyn to a Hong Kong banker, Dr. Liang, for thirty-eight million." Since both Gordon and Gerry were nodding, I guessed that they'd read about the deal in the newspapers. "Anyway, I translated the contracts from Cantonese into English and negotiated the deal for Bat and Marv, his lawyer."

"And that's the same Marv, who you talked to on the phone about this deal?" Gordon was quick to piece things together, regardless of his alcohol consumption.

I nodded. "Exactly. And he's the one we'll be visiting tomorrow, so I can sign the papers, before we send them to Don, Senior."

"So, back to the original question." Gerry grinned mischievously and finished his glass of beer. "What do you want us to do to you, once we get you upstairs?"

***

Gordon got undressed and onto his twin bed, the one he'd used since childhood, every time he stayed here. I could only see his outline against the dim light streaming in across the vacant lots behind the house from the streetlights over on Lincoln.

Gerry and I were removing one another's clothes; we were about to make love while Gordon watched. This reenactment of what he had once witnessed his brother, Mike, and Eddy Chung perform many years ago. I started kissing Gerry and fondling his back, which was clearly visible to Gordon, since we weren't in the shadows, and the curtains were open. I felt odd at having to admit to the fact that being watched added an extra kick.

My cock was in Gerry's mouth and his in mine, as Gordon had directed. Slowly, we lost ourselves in our mutual fellatio, it not only felt good on its own, but letting my tongue play with Gerry's long skin, letting my lips retract it over his glans and back again, gave me pleasure in that I was addicted to his taste, and I longed for his sounds of delight with each stroke. He was far too big for me to deep throat, but since most of his sexual nerve endings were inside this lusciously long flap of skin, I concentrated on this end rather than the base.

By the time, I started to build to orgasm, I noticed that Gerry's breathing had hastened. Since we both experienced a long, tingly build up prior to the final explosion, we generally managed to synchronize when we were to shoot our loads. Precision detonation, so to speak.

Our moans and grunts would have possibly cause the neighbors to fear that beasts of the wild had penetrated their properties, had the windows been open. From the bed next to the one, upon which we had performed, we heard moans, as well. But as we were to find out after re-entering Earth's atmosphere, following our sexual high, Gordon was in distress. His moans were from his sobbing: "This is all wrong."