Brownie Points (25 page)

“Mr. Waxman, I’m warning you,” the judge said flatly. “Now, Logan, tell me why can’t you join Boy Scouts instead?”

I saw Logan’s back stiffen as he prepared to answer her. But he never got the chance. Wax jumped in again, “Yaw Honor, you are cross-examining my witness!”

Lexie Stein rose and opened her mouth to speak, but the judge interrupted first. “Mr. Waxman, consider this your final warning.”

Jorge whispered, “Oh this lady’s a bad ass, just like Jenna, I’m telling you. They even look a little alike. I wonder if they’re sisters or something. Wouldn’t that be a small world?!”

“Will you shut up?” I whispered, stifling a laugh.

Wax continued. “Yaw Honor, there are reasons that Logan cannot join the Boy Scouts. Boy Scouts has discriminatory policies that would exclude Logan, which means Logan does not have an equal opportunity for scouting. Without the Girl Scouts, he’s denied the scouting opportunity that every other child in this country is afforded.”

“Except the boys you say are discriminated against through Boy Scouts’ policies,” the judge corrected. “So your issue is really with the Boy Scouts?”

Wax sighed heavily. “We will prove that Girl Scouts is, in fact, discriminating on the basis of gender, which, I might add, is wholly unconstitutional when considering that the Girl Scouts campgrounds are located on state land and are rented to the organization at the rate of one dollar per year!” Wax certainly had a flair for the dramatic presentation. I swore he addressed the jury box for a half-second before remembering that it was empty.

Michelle leaned in to me and whispered, “What did he just say?”

I explained, “The park is owned by the state, so it can’t give sweetheart deals to groups that discriminate.”

“Is that good?” she asked.

“It kicks ass.”

Michelle smiled and nodded.

The judge was unimpressed. “Mr. Waxman, the state offers the same deal to the Veterans Administration, the senior center and the Braille Institute. Are you planning to sue these groups for discrimination as well?”

Wax turned red. “Yaw Honor, I didn’t realize that not only had the trial started today, but that you’d assumed the role of lead counsel for the Girl Scouts!”

“That’s it, Mr. Waxman,” the judge snapped. Banging her gavel, she told Wax he was in contempt of court, and called for the bailiff to take him away. Logan turned to me with bulging eyes as his attorney was taken away in handcuffs.

Michelle leaned in toward me again and whispered. “This doesn’t really seem like we’re kicking ass.”

™˜

“Logan! Logan! Over here!” several reporters barked. “What did the judge say?”
Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Did she rule in your favor?”
Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Ms. Stein, were you happy with the judge’s decision today?”
Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click.

We stopped at the top of the courthouse steps paralyzed by the cameras. Supporters and protesters gathered closer to the steps to listen as well.
Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Did she give you any indication which way she was leaning?” shouted a reporter.
Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“We’ll know the judge’s ruling shortly,” Lexie said.
Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

“Where is Mr. Waxman? Is it true he was arrested?”

“That is accurate,” Lexie Stein confirmed.

“Is it true that you’re gay, Logan?” shouted a British reporter.

Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click,.

I glanced at Logan, who looked mortified to be outed in such a public way. It was one thing for him to tell his parents and friends, but an entirely different thing to have a reporter question his orientation while dozens of others clicked away, filmed and recorded.

Suddenly, lunging forward from behind us, Finn stepped up. “So what if he is?” Jorge slapped the side of his own face. Everyone grew expectantly quiet as Finn jutted his chin forward and moved his shoulders in a circular motion. No one knew if he was stretching, or finished or what. Then he continued. “What would it matter if he’s gay? I played for the Niners for thirteen years and no one cared that I’m gay.”

Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

The crowd collectively gasped and several of the men grumbled,

“Finn Ayres is gay?”

“Did Finn Ayres say he’s gay?”

“How could Ayres be gay? He plays
defense
.”

Jorge sidled up to Finn and whispered, “Nobody knew.”

“They couldn’t tell?” Logan asked, rolling his eyes.

“Is the shiny little guy your partner?” a reporter asked.

Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

Horrified, Jorge squeaked, “Shiny little guy?” Finn threw his arm around Jorge’s shoulder and pulled him in close. “Ouch! Give me some warning.”

“Yeah, this shiny little guy is with me, and anyone who’s got a problem with it can come talk to me about it face to face, man to man.”

A “God Hates Fags” placard dropped to the ground. Men stood agape absorbing the news that the man they’d watched sacking quarterbacks for more than a decade went home to a five-foot-seven-inch Chicano with perfectly gelled hair and a penchant for glittering rodeo gear.

Click, click, click. Click, click, click. Click, click, click.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I wondered if Logan was a bit jealous that Finn’s coming out of the closet was a bigger news story than his lawsuit. Starting on the four o’clock news broadcasts, TV news media flashed headlines about the gay linebacker. CNN dubbed Finn and Logan “Backer and the Scout,” which frankly sounded like a gay porn version of
Butch Cassidy
. Thankfully, MSNBC never came up with “Lineback Mountain.”

“How do you feel about all this, buddy?” Jason asked as we all watched the story unfold on television.

“Okay, I guess,” he said. “It was just weird to have everybody screaming about me at the courthouse.”

Jorge reminded us to look at the bright side. “Now that you’ve been outed, those Hot in the Trousers boys will go home.”

™˜

As it turned out, the O’Mally faction did not go home. Their numbers grew as Bob O’Mally urged his viewers to come support the “ballsiest kid in America” as he was being slandered by the liberal media. “They’re callin’ our Logan gay, people!” he shouted from the local Fox studio, where he filmed his show that evening. “That means one thing and one thing only! Logan must have kicked butt inside that courtroom today. Otherwise, they wouldn’t need to throw in this red herring about Logan being
gay
,” he shouted, dramatically placing quote marks around the last word. “We’re not falling for it, people! Stay focused on our issue!”

O’Mally spent the entire show urging his viewers to grab their camping gear and join him in Corderos State Park, where he would be camping until the judge issued her ruling. “It’s a God-blessed Boy Scout jamboree out here and if you miss it, then you really are gay!”

™˜

After the kids went to sleep, Finn and Jason went outside to continue a discussion on our drainage. Jorge and I were left alone with the dishes.

“I’m so glad you and Finn showed up today,” I told him as we rinsed plates and loaded them into the washer.

“Me too, Li-li, but I have to tell you, this place is different than I expected. So much fresh air and open space. I love it here.”

“You do?” I asked.

“Don’t you think —”

“That you complain a lot?” Jorge interrupted. “Yes, but I love you anyway.” He turned off the water and took a more serious tone. “You told me you have no friends, but Michelle is adorable and now you’re hob-nobbing with Kate Parr. I don’t see what’s so terrible about Los Corderos.”

I groped for words to explain. “These houses. Don’t you find them to be completely devoid of individuality?”

“Ay, houses,” he dismissed. “Li-li, listen to me. You have a hot, sexy husband who loves you, two healthy children, good friends, talent … what more do you want from life?”

“Jorge,” I whined, begging for his understanding. “I hate where I live.”

He placed his hand over my heart. “This is where you live.”

At that point we noticed that in Jorge’s hand was a sudsy sponge, which had soaked the front of my blouse. I laughed and wiped away a tear. Jorge tossed the sponge over his shoulder and embraced me. “Come here, Mamita,” he said, patting my back. “There, there, you’ve had your ruby slippers all along.”

Jason and Finn shook the floors as they walked in bellowing about home repairs. “Guess who figured out our drainage issue,” Jason said.

Jorge shooed him away with the wave of a hand. “No one cares,” he told them. “We’re having a moment.”

When the phone rang, we let the call roll over to the machine. Surely the only people rude enough to call after ten were reporters. Jorge was already regaling Jason and Finn with his imitation of Wax in court when we heard Michelle’s voice struggling to be heard amid the bedlam. In the background, we heard voices toppling each other, boisterous laughter and music. “I wish you could see what’s going on down here at the courthouse!” Michelle shouted. We all looked at each other, unsure if it was a good thing — or a complete disaster.

“Michelle,” I said, picking up the line. “What’s going on?”

As she began explaining, I interrupted. “Oh my God, we’re on our way.”

™˜