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CHAPTER TWO
Sean wondered, "Jeez, wonder what Dad wants...I don't know of anything special going on. Oh, well..."
Sean went to the fridge and got out eggs, English muffins, American cheese singles and a sausage patty. Setting a non-stick pan on the stove with the heat to medium he let the pan warm up and proceeded to skillfully prepare two sunny side up eggs. He placed them carefully on the well-toasted English - Sean always joked that he liked his toast "with a little carbon on it" - interspersed with the sausage and the cheese, cut the breakfast sandwich in half and chowed it down with a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice.
Afterwards, Sean put the dishes and the pan into the dishwasher, ran a rinse cycle and went up to take a shower.
Sean stepped into the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom that he had all to himself – that was the rule as long as he kept it clean which he did by the simple act of not keeping much in it – soap, toothpaste, deodorant, razor, shaving cream, a few towels and washcloths and that was about all she wrote. Less is more, Sean reasoned.
Turning on the shower and adjusting it to the preferred temperature, Sean stripped off his running clothes and jock strap. Casually, he scratched his balls and gave his cock two short tugs before stepping under the cascading stream of warm water.
Lazily, Sean let the torrent cascade down his hair and back, reaching for the shampoo all the while looking like the picture of the all-American High School jock with his young man's almost-fully-mature body getting cleaner and fresher by the second.
Grabbing the soap, Sean lathered up paying special attention to his butt crack, balls and dick. Suddenly, Sean was aware of the semi-hard penis attached to his groin. He began to run his hand over it open-palmed and rubbing along the top from the base to the tip. The budding sensations of sexual pleasure began a fantasy in Sean's mind and soon his cock was at its seven-inch full mast with his fantasy developing as it went.
Only Sean knew what the fantasy contained and for now here he was, a young man at his sexual peak in the throes of self-pleasure. With his left hand – Sean was left- handed – he encircled his engorged meat beating it ever faster, and then backing off just when he thought he was getting close. Knees bent, Sean began with his right hand to finger his asshole first circling around the donut, then flicking his fingertips across it ever so lightly and quickly, then pulling lightly at the ass crack hairs around the hole which made his whole ass pucker and made him groan with ecstasy. Finally, while fist-pumping his hard dick, Sean went for it and stuck his index finger into his ass to the point where he knew by a feeling of electric shock and another guttural groan that he'd hit his prostate.
At that moment a huge squirt of precum leaked from the mushroom tip of his cock. Sean paused just long enough to gather on his index and middle fingers, raise them to his lips and suck into his mouth his own juice.
The lethal combination of Sean's jacking, his assplay and the fantasy raging in his mind were at last unstoppable and amid gasps and involuntary oaths of "fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" the evidence was sprayed over the shower wall in six, or eight rapid-fire jets of thick, heavy, white cum that shot from one end of the shower to the other.
Amidst the steam from the shower, Sean smelled the heavy, musky scent of his own cum, his dick stayed absolutely rigid and after another perhaps 20 seconds the sum of all this induced a second, and this time even more shattering orgasm.
Sean's knees went wobbly and he had to grab the shower door in order to steady himself. "Fuckin-A!" Sean thought to himself, "that was totally insane! I wish I could figure a way that I wouldn't always have to do this alone... What? What am I thinking? All I did was shoot a couple of loads! Oh, well, it is what it is..."
His legs were still rubbery and unsteady and his body twitched every few seconds. Sean felt totally spent as he dried himself off. So much so, that he decided to forego the usual shaving routine and simply finished up by brushing his teeth and combing his hair in his parted-down-the-middle style.
Back in his bedroom, Sean picked out some clothes for the day. Typically, he dressed easy – tan cargo shorts, a black belt and a loose-fitting, white, heavy cotton pocketed T-shirt (Sean would take a size Large, but for T-shirts he preferred an XL, or sometimes even an XXL) tucked into the shorts. For shoes, he went to his closet and picked out a pair of old-school Adidas Rom's white with three blue Adidas stripes on the sides that wrapped up the picture of his casual-prep style.
By now, it was going on 9:30 a.m. and Sean knew from breakfast that there wasn't much food in the house so he'd better get to the grocery store and make sure that when dinner time came around that he and his Dad would have something tasty to eat, so Sean grabbed his car keys and set out to the Woodman's grocery store which he loved – the store was about 250,000 square feet and while too much for some folks due to sheer size, inside there was literally anything and everything for sale. The coffee aisle alone was a hundred feet long.
Hitting the button to open the garage door, Sean slid into his ride, which was a gift from his father upon getting his driver's license. Sean's Dad was the Chief of Production at SC Johnson, a huge worldwide consumer products company, located in Racine, which was the next city to the north about a ten-minute drive. Although Sean's Dad could pretty much afford any set of wheels that a teenage boy might reasonably want, and a limit of $30,000 was set with the condition that Sean pay for gas and insurance. Sean chose something practical, a Chevrolet Equinox LT compact SUV that while sporty enough to dispel cat-calls from friends, seated 4 comfortably, had a large cargo area in the back and all-wheel drive for the Wisconsin winters.
In order to pay for Sean's end of the cost of running the Equinox, Sean's dad, in typical fashion, set his son up in business for himself. As most of the people in his neighborhood were older, wealthier people, and didn't have any kids at home, Sean did almost all the lawns and lighter landscaping work around the neighborhood. It was good exercise, and his well-to-do neighbors loved the tall, good-looking young man with the sunny disposition and the smirky smile. Sean had all the right equipment, too: a Simplicity Champion zero-turn-radius lawn tractor, a Honda self- propelled walk-behind commercial mower for the smaller areas and Stihl commercial gas-powered edger and weed whacker for sidewalks and flower beds.
Of course, Sean could not afford to buy all the equipment on his own - his dad bought it - and again in typical fashion, Sean's dad set up an LLC, "Wyman Landscaping" for Sean. The equipment loan was paid off by the LLC through expensing capital depreciation, which netted the LLC a better cash flow. Setting it up that way let Sean pay off the loan that much faster.
Sean was a hard worker, he didn't like owing people money, and after three years, he owed his dad only $800 on the initial loan - soon Wyman Landscaping – and by extension, Sean - would own the equipment and the LLC outright. Sean felt proud that he basically was running his own business, and Joe thought it taught his son the value of a dollar and how a business works.
Once in the little truck, Sean, always a careful driver, buckled up and glided out of the driveway on the way to Woodman's. He'd settled on having shit-on-a-shingle for dinner, he'd made the recipe many, many times and it was one of those comfort foods that while a lot of people turn up their noses at it, he and his father both relished. His dad said it brought back memories from his time in the Marines.
He had the ingredients list in his head: dried beef, butter, light cream, Wonder Bread, a bag of frozen peas, an onion. He also decided to pick up some staples like coffee and salad ingredients that he noticed they were low on. Luckily, when he got to the store they also had cheese curds fresh that day – a special treat that he and his Dad also enjoyed together with a beer when they had the time.
Getting back home, Sean unpacked the groceries, put them up, and sat down to relax for a while. Again, his morning shower fantasy crept back into his head and while it didn't make him horny this time, neither did it surprise him as that same fantasy, or something similar to it, had become his part-time companion of late. Sean figured he'd blow a bong hit and listen to some music.
Like Sean, Sean's dad was a great music fan and the home had for a 17-year-old a kick-ass sound system. None of the faddish surround-sound equipment for Sean's dad. This was old school at its finest: a Harman/Kardon HK-990 amplifier delivering 300 watts per channel of power into a pair each of vintage JBL 4311B Control Monitors and JBL L300 Summit speakers. While the 4311B's were the epitome of classic 1970's JBL sound, the L300's from the same era were jaw-dropping with their 15" bass drivers, horn mid-ranges, glass tweeters and cabinets the size of a standard dishwasher – the kind of equipment that just isn't made any more. To say that this was an enviable sound system would be gross understatement.
Sean grabbed his MacBook Pro and set off to hook it up to digital input on the amplifier through a USB to one of the amplifier's optical inputs. Sean liked the old music of bands like AC/DC, The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Blue Oyster Cult and oddly for kid his age, The Grateful Dead.
Once in the basement of the rambling old home where the media room was, Sean was disappointed to see that while he had thought of doing a bong hit, that his stash was dry. "Oh, well" Sean thought and put on a couple of songs from the 1975 album A Night at the Opera by Queen and figured he'd try to hook up with Andy later in the evening and score a small stash of weed.
Not much else happened that afternoon - Sean did two of the neighbor's lawns, then returned home and dusted the house a little bit. Like his dad, Sean was a little bit of a neat freak and didn't like it when things were cluttered, or looked like they hadn't been tended to.
While in the living room cleaning the two large, leather wingback chairs in front of the floor-to-ceiling living room window, Sean spied a strange, unknown car pulling up the driveway. Sean was a little surprised as he wasn't expecting anyone, and he stood stock-still at the window wondering who it could be.
He jumped as he heard the garage door opening and wondered if he should go investigate, or hit the home's panic button – one needed a specially coded pass fob to open the garage door, not just the regular opener with a button that most people have.
This was part of the home security system that Sean's dad installed as sometimes he was away on business for a few days and wanted to make sure that Sean was safe. In Sean's dad's mind one never knew what criminals might know, and might not know, so best to assume they know when one comes and goes.
Upon reaching the garage, Sean was greeted by his father getting out of the strange, sleek, long black car.
"Hey, dad! What's with the new car? It looks like a Cadillac! I thought you only drove BMW! What is it, anyway? You're home early and I haven't even started dinner yet! I thought you wanted to see me at 6:00! What's the deal?"
"Whoa there Champ!" exclaimed Sean's dad, Joe Wyman. Joe Wyman was a tall, well- built man of 46 years. His close-cropped chestnut brown hair was without a trace of gray, and Joe had the body of a middle-aged athlete kept fit by regular workouts at the gym and jogging. Joe was a self-made man who put himself through college on the VA plan graduating cum laude from the Business School at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and later earning an MBA in management from Harvard Business School.
Joe was a good man, and made sure that he provided well for his only son. Val's death devastated him, but Joe managed to snap out of it when Val came to him in a dream one night, appearing though the mists of the Lake Michigan shoreline at a time that was around midnight and spoke these words, "Joseph, do not grieve for me, for it was my time and I now know that, so please trust my words. It is not given to you, or to our son to know what one's time is, but it is what it is. Do not grieve for me, Joseph, but live your life as God intended, be happy, and make sure that our son is happy, and well taken care of. That I am sure you will do. I love you always, Joseph, and you will see just how much on the day that shall mark the end of your time on Earth."
"Dad, is something going on?" asked Sean now wondering really what exactly WAS going on.
"Well, there, bud, you and I are going out to dinner tonight – I've already made reservations so be ready in about 20-30 minutes, dress casual but neat, and then we'll go!' Joe said.
"Oh, OK, dad, but this just seems a little weird." Sean told his father with a skeptical look. "I got all the stuff at Woodman's today for shit-on-a-shingle, but I guess it can wait – it won't go bad..."
Bewildered, Sean retired to his room in order to pick out a suitable outfit for dinner with dad.
Sean was what he liked to call a "crisp" dresser – you'd never see Sean overdressed, or ostentatiously dressed, but for an occasion like this he'd look the part of a regular 17 year old preppie except for his long hair, which tonight he decided not to pull into a pony tail, but to use his curling iron to give it just a hint of a wave, and part it down the middle. Like his late mother, Sean prided himself on how to dress for any occasion.
For clothing, Sean choose standard-issue beige pleated front chinos, a cordovan leather belt, dark blue t-shirt with a royal blue Oxford shirt over and rolled up the sleeves neatly to just the mid-point of his forearms. He finished the ensemble with white socks and his favorite cordovan Allen Edmonds penny loafers.
Joe smiled when saw Sean coming down the stairs and thought to himself, "Jesus Christ, that boy's got his mother's looks! Even when he was little we knew he'd grow up to be a good-looking man, but Holy Crap! Val, you'd be so proud of our son...sure I know he smokes pot now and then, but so did we, and I tell ya, our boy's got his head on straight, Val. He's been a joy to me." Joe moved to suppress a tear of pride that welled in his right eye.
"Lookin' good there, Sport!" Joe told Sean. "Let's go eat! We're going to that Italian place that we always like! I sure could use a good pizza and a Caesar Salad!"
"OK, dad, but I think there's something going on. Am I in some kind of trouble? What's this all about?"
"We'll talk when we get the restaurant, and no, you're not in any trouble, Bucko!"
Joe hit the app on his iPhone to disable the alarm for egress, open the garage door and turn on specific interior and exterior house lights, television, etc., to make it look as if someone was home. The setting on the app gave them exactly one minute to clear the garage door, then the door automatically shut and out they went.
"So, dad, um, like, OK - what the hell is up with this car? It's a Cadillac and you always swore you'd never drive anything but a Beemer! What's the deal-e-o?"
"You could say it's a company car, I guess, Sean. Whadya think of it? It's the big XTS model, but it's got the V-Sport package with all-wheel drive and every option on the list! Tell ya what, you can drive us home when we're done and then you can tell me whatcha think."
"Sure, dad..." Sean said skeptically with one eyebrow rising. Something seemed fishy here, and he had no clue what it was. Some people are comfortable being clueless. Sean Wyman was not one of those people.
The big Cadillac wheeled out onto the road and Joe headed it toward the main drag Sheridan Road. Sean was impressed with the modern techno-glitz interior – something he felt his dad's favored BMW's lacked with their stark, Teutonic austerity. The 410-hp twin-turbo 3.6-liter V6 engine burbled in an aggressive yet suitably stately fashion with power that seemed both seamless and locomotive-like. Perhaps this would be a fun drive after all when he got the chance to slide behind the wheel.
At last, Sean and Joe arrived at the restaurant, parked and made their way inside to the hostess who asked if they had reservations advising otherwise there would be a 45-minute wait.
Joe smiled at the hostess and said, "Reservations for two – name's Wyman, ma'am."
"Oh, yes, here you are," said the hostess, "right this way sirs – we have a nice table overlooking the Lake for you tonight!"
After ordering their drinks, a Grey Goose martini, extra dry, for Joe, and a Schlitz draft for Sean. *
Presently, the waiter appeared letting them know that his name was Danny and he would be their server this evening. Danny was polite, professional, tall, well groomed, and quite good-looking with well-cut auburn brown hair, and hazel eyes. What went unnoticed by Sean as he was still perusing the menu was that Danny eyeballed Sean just a second, or two longer than needed when announcing the evening's specials.
"Damnit!" Danny thought to himself, "I'm 19 and this kid looks to be maybe 17, whatever – can't take the chance on jailbait, but fuckin'-A what a hunk! And look at that long, soft, wavy blonde hair, and that angular, androgynously stunning face! If it weren't for those intent-looking sapphire eyes, I'd think he was a sissy – nah, with that build and dressed like that, he's gotta be a jock. Still...looks too young. Damnit!"
Snapping out of his trance, Danny dutifully took the Wyman's dinner order of a large thin-crust pizza with sausage, mushrooms and onions as well as a Caesar Salad that they would split. Of course, Sean and Joe both asked for anchovies on side plates as they enjoyed them as an accompaniment to the salad, but not an integral ingredient.
"OK, dad," Sean said quizzically, "What's going on – not that we don't like the food here, but it just seems out of character that we'd be going out for dinner on a week night and that you made reservations on top of it. I know you said I'm not in trouble, or anything, but you sent me that text this morning, then you came home early today with a car that you said you'd never drive and now here we are. What's up?"
"Sean, I...well...I've had a change in my life that happened recently. It's something I never thought about and never asked for, but it's the opportunity of a lifetime, and I wanted us to come here tonight so we could work it out."
"Um, OK, dad, I'm all ears, so I guess as long as I'm not in trouble and if this is a good thing for you then I'll sit back and listen. Are you dating someone, dad, and you didn't tell me? Is that what this is all about?"
Joe was taking a sip of his martini at that moment and almost spit it out at Sean's question, grabbing his napkin and putting it to his mouth. "Sean, I'm not dating anyone. Not that someday I might not, but not today."
"OK, so spill it then, dad. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's all good, right?"
"Sean, I'll come right to the point, but before I do I'm going to level with you – this might mean a change for you, too, son. All I ask is that you hear me out and don't make any judgments tonight. Do you think you can do that?"
"I dunno, dad. I'm not sure I can answer that question when I don't even know what it is we're talking about. I get the feeling this is gonna be one of those `it is what it is' moments, though, yeah?"
Joe smiled, "You've got a lot of your mother in you there, Sean. I think that's exactly what she would have said. Anyway, OK, here we go..."
Just then Danny showed up with the salad and the anchovies. "Would you like cracked pepper on your salads, gentlemen?" Danny asked. After both Wyman men said they would, Danny asked if they were OK with their drinks. Joe said he'd like a Sam Adams IPA, while Sean asked for another Schlitz.
"OK, Sean, like I said a minute ago, here we go. I've been offered a new job."
"Wow, dad! That's great! A promotion, huh, I bet! Does it mean less travel for you, and maybe some more money and stuff?"
"Well, son, it will mean less travel, but it also involves you and I moving, and I want to know how you feel about that."
"Moving? Um...dad...well...OK, moving where? When? I mean school's starting soon, and football and everything... I need more information."
"OK, Sean, here's the deal. Now, I haven't said yes yet, but today is Tuesday and I have to give an answer by next Friday. By the way, the Cadillac's a teaser that they offered me to drive while I make up my mind. Anyway, what this involves is that General Motors is going to be re-starting the Janesville Assembly plant. I've been offered the job of Plant Manager. The job comes with a significant – and I do mean significant, just about double - increase in pay and benefits over what I make now. They are offering me a ten-year contract and there are stock options and bonuses. In addition, they have offered to pay for your college education up to the cost of in- state tuition, room and board through and including graduate school. There will be new cars every year for both of us, insurance, gas and maintenance would be gratis courtesy of GM."
"OK, dad, but why would we have to move? The job thing sounds awesome and everything, but...I mean...Janesville's only maybe an hour away. Couldn't you just commute? And I don't know anything about Janesville other than I was there last year when we played Craig. I don't even know anybody there! Anyway, I don't get why we'd have to move..."
"Well, son, part of GM's deal is that in order to re-open the plant, and from what they've shared with me they are doing on a sound business decision model, there were incentives offered by the State and by the City of Janesville. One of the City's conditions for their part of the package is that the Plant Manager has to live in Janesville. Because of the way GM closed down the plant a few years back, there was bad blood between GM and the community. The City Councilors need this to go as smoothly as possible because they'll have to face the voters about what might look like giving away taxpayer money for corporate incentives, and they don't think it will go down well if they have some guy running the show from a remote location. They wanted someone from Wisconsin. I know they interviewed guys from Harley- Davidson, Briggs & Stratton, Kohler, Miller Brewing and Mercury Marine, too. You have to understand, son, Janesville is a town of maybe 70,000 which is even less than Kenosha's 95,000, and in small towns feelings run deep. I remember when Chrysler closed here in Kenosha and it was the same way. Janesville's a little different in that it's an "Old Money" town and to a certain extent some things there are still run by the old money, but it's also a union town. GM is reopening the plant as a non-union plant, and there will need to be some smoothing over for the union people. The City government people would never be able to get around having an out of town plant manager."
"OK, what are you really wanting me to do? I'd have to give up my friends, my position as quarterback, and for a car? I already have a car. I don't know. I'm not thinking straight right now, dad. This is..." Tears almost welled up in Sean's eyes. Then the image of his mother flashed before him telling him he had inherited her strength and steadiness. Sean righted himself, took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, looked his dad in the eye and simply said, "Dad, I'm gonna need a few days."
"You deserve that - at least that - son. There is something I'd like you to do before you make up your mind..."
"What now?!"
"I want you to drive to Janesville and check things out. I've made some preparations so that your visit would be productive. Here is the card for a local Realtor that was recommended to me by the Janesville Chamber of Commerce, and here is the office number and the name of Janesville Craig's head football coach. I've called them both in advance and said that you might be calling them for an appointment in the next day, or two. If we decide to make the move, then I put you in charge of picking out a house for us. GM has a condo they own that we could stay in if the house search takes a little while. I've looked at the real estate values in Janesville - their market is still a little down, so within reason house price is no object. I want us to stay within the Craig High School boundaries, though. The other High School is Parker and it's a decent school, but its academic reputation isn't quite as good as Craig's. I also have a guest pass for you at the Janesville Country Club in case you need something for dinner, and a reservation at a bed and breakfast so you could come back the next day if you wanted. I also put an extra $300.00 in your bank account so that if you need any incidentals they'd be covered."
Sean sat there staring, gob smacked. This sure seemed to be one of those "it is what it is" moments, and Sean was numb because uncharacteristically for him he didn't have a clear bead on this situation, and therefore Sean's mind was simply not able to systematically process in its usual way the evening's news.
"Um, well, OK, dad, I guess... I still don't know what to think, though. This is a lot all at once. I wish mom was here so we could all hash it out together. It's a lot to process..."
"Sean, you're a good man. All I am asking you to do is be objective. We can talk more once you come back from your Janesville trip. If anything else comes to mind before then, son, please just come to me, OK?"
"Sure, dad..." Sean knew instinctively that his father loved him, and would never hurt him. Sean also knew that his dad had a life, too, but there were still many things Sean must wrestle with and reconcile over the next days.
As Sean liked to say from a quote, he'd forgotten from whom, "There are known unknowns, and unknown unknowns." Sean thought that about sized it up.
Joe sat in silent thought: "Val, I hope you were watching tonight. Our son's growing up. I don't want to uproot him, but this opportunity could mean that he'd never want for anything in life. No, I won't force him. OK, we'll see..."
By this time, Joe and Sean had eaten their fill, and Danny popped in asking, "How we doing here, gentlemen? Can I offer you anything else? Coffee? Desert perhaps?"
Sean looked up at Danny, noticing Danny's smile, and said with his patented smirk, "No, but thanks for asking, Danny!" Joe said, "I guess we'll just take the check then, Danny – the food was excellent tonight!"
"As you wish, sir!" Danny smiled, returning monetarily with the check. Joe presented his American Express Centurion card instructing, "Danny, add a 25% tip for yourself to the total."
"Yes sir, thank you, sir!" Danny smiled, looking back again at Sean. "Christ, I wish I could get that kid's phone number!" Danny thought to himself. "Oh, well, two ships that pass in the night..."
"So, you still up for driving the Caddie home then, Sean?" Joe asked.
"Sure, dad. Whatever happens, I won't get to drive a car like this one for a long time anyway – I kinda liked riding in it. We'll see how she goes, hey?"
"OK, son, just be careful like I know you always are, but if we get to a good spot and ya wanna put the hammer down, then we'll see what she's got."
"Exxxxxcellent, dad!"
Sean glided the big, black Caddie onto Sheridan Road and by that hour on a work night in a town the size of Kenosha there was no one else on the road. Coming to a red stop and go light, Sean looked at Joe saying, "OK, dad – the next stop light is about a mile down, can we see what she's got?"
"Sure son, but just remember, the speed limit's 45. Now, there's no rule on how fast you get to 45, but you know the old saying the cops use: eight ya skate, nine yer mine! So just keep `er under about 52 on the heads up display and we should be good!"
"Alrighty then, dad!"
Sean watched the light for the cross street run from green, to yellow, to red. He saw the light in front of him snap green. On a part-throttle launch, once the vehicle was moving and there was no risk of tire scratch to attract cops, Sean buried the gas pedal into the thick Cadillac carpeting. "Holy fucking shit!" Sean yelled as the tachometer flew toward the redline, the faint whistle of the twin turbochargers kicked in, the gears shifted with the butter smoothness of a GM automatic and sadly, to Sean, after maybe four seconds as near as Sean could figure – for he was a bit of a gearhead - he had to let off on the gas and yank the transmission back a gear as the big XTS passed 60 miles an hour.
"Jesus Christ, dad – none of the Beemers ever ran this fast I don't think! And I think the Caddy feels at least as stable under full power as any of them!"
"I think you're right, son. Look, Sean, right now is not the time to rehash our whole conversation from the restaurant, but I just have one thing to ask and that's that when I get home from work tomorrow you'll be able to tell me when you're doing your Janesville run for the Realtor and the Coach, because one way or another we've got a decision to make. OK, son?"
"Sure, dad. I can't say what I'll decide for my part. This is still a lot of shit for me to digest and it's all at once, ya know? It's weird, dad. You promise me that's OK with you then?"
"Sure, son. That's fair."
"Dad, you're the best!"
"So are you, son."
Once they turned the corner into their street, Sean told his dad, "Hey, dad, it's still a little early and I told Andy I'd be stopping over tonight, so if it's OK, I'm gonna run over by Andy's for a few."
"That's fine, son, and since this isn't a school night, I want you in by midnight, right?"
"Right, dad."
"Now, Sean, if you guys have beers and if you can't drive home, then you use your judgment and call me and tell me you'll be home in the morning as long as it's OK with Andy's mom, OK? And if it's not OK with her, then I will come get you." Joe knew how these things go with late teenage boys – after all he was one not that long ago - and his concern was always with his son's safety.
"That's fine, dad. We might have a beer, or two, but if it's more, then I'll give you a holler."
"Good man, Sean. It's your safety I worry about, not your judgment, son. You've got a good head on your shoulders."
Once in the garage, Sean returned the keys to the big XTS to his dad. Pulling out his iPhone he texted Andy, "u busy? I wnt 2 cm ovr now."
Andy answered back, "KK"
END CHAPTER TWO
*In Wisconsin, although the legal drinking age is 21, if the establishment is agreeable a minor can lawfully be served alcohol if accompanied by a parent, legal guardian, or spouse of age.