Moore Than Forever (13 page)

All eyes in the room flashed to Nathaniel as the gravity of that statement hit everyone in the gut.

“Is HIV and AIDS still so prolific over there?” Mia was keenly interested and Malcolm was impassioned on the subject.

“Unfortunately, yes. The internists struggle with this terrible cycle that they can’t break. Patients are sent home with anti-retroviral drugs and then take them with unclean water and end up with secondary infections that their immune systems are just too compromised to handle. You should join a trip. I think it would be meaningful to you,” turning back to Schooner, “and you should visit Macha again. It was a transformative time in your life.”

Looking at Mia to gauge her reaction, Schooner was somewhat surprised to see a look on her face saying, “We should do this.”

“When is your team going back again?” Schooner had a light in his eye.

“Late spring, early summer,” Malcolm had him hook, line and sinker. “I’ll put you in touch with my associate Roberto Castillo. I’m sure you can take what you started and expand upon it.”

Mia could see Schooner’s mind racing a million miles per hour, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that orthopedic rehab is probably not as prevalent as it should be over there. I’m thinking the number one college physical therapy program in the United States is right here at USC, where I know you have excellent connections, Malcolm. I’m thinking that every health club in this country, L9 included, scraps perfectly good equipment when the new models come out and I’m thinking it’s time to go back to Zambia.”

Sitting there shaking his head as it all began to process and gel, Schooner was feeling a touch of déjà vu as the exact feeling he felt that day in Malcolm’s wood and leather office resurfaced. That sense of purpose and the excitement of an unknown adventure lying before him once again snuck up out of nowhere and grabbed him.

But this time, there was no escape or heartache involved, only renewed purpose and the ability to share his expertise and good fortune with those in need. Now, Mia would be at his side and all the images he tried so hard to capture with his Nikon, everything he dreamed of sharing with her, would now be part of their shared memories.

“Baby Girl,” that gorgeous All-American boy smile was beaming, “we’re going to Zambia.”

Chapter Twenty-three

With her laptop propped on her knees and Nathaniel curled up on the bed next to her in the Moore’s guest bedroom, Mia laughed at the shocked expression on Seth’s face.

“I’m telling you, Seth, I’m not creative enough to make this shit up.” Mia could see their office in the background of the Skype image and missed the crazy energy of her Manhattan agency.

“BBC, can’t you send him to Africa on his own? This is not like a high-end safari tour you are going on.”

“I think it will be exciting.”

“You want excitement, we’ll drop you off somewhere in Brooklyn or The Bronx with two dollars and let you panhandle your way home.”

“Oh my God, I miss you,” Mia couldn’t help but laugh.

“Who’s going to watch, Nathaniel?” his arms were now crossed, as he began to get worked up.

“Well, I can have Lois come up from Florida,” Mia instinctively reached out and rubbed Nathaniel’s back. When she looked back at the screen, it was clear that her last statement had not gone over well.

Tapping his fingers loudly on the desk, “I’m his Godfather, Mia. Do you not trust me?”

“It’s a lot of work and it’s exhausting. I don’t want to saddle you with that, Princess.”

“Fuck you, BBC. I’m watching Nathaniel when you go off on your Hemingway adventure.”

“Ok, ok,” Mia laughed. “Are you sure you don’t want Lois up to help you?”

“That would be fine. You can call her. So, with all of those little CJ/Zac shenanigans, what is going on with the divorce?”

Smiling, Mia scrunched back into the pillows, “Princess, Pretty Boy would’ve gotten you so hard…”

“He always gets me hard,” Seth interrupted.

Mia laughed, “I don’t think I want to know that. Well, he would’ve made you even harder than he usually makes you. He is really very different out here. I guess because he’s in his own domain, his empire. He’s really commanding,” and demanding too, thought Mia, a visual of their latest tryst on deck causing a tingling between her legs.

“BBC, he’s always commanding. If you’d just put that dick of yours away every so often, you might actually notice.”

“Fuck you, Princess,” but Mia knew he was right, “and you’re right, he is always commanding, but it’s like kicked up a notch out here. It’s really kind of hot. Anyway, he just told CJ, this gets signed this week or I’m going to ruin your life.”

“You’re right, I would’ve come in my pants. So, what does that mean if she signs it this week?”

“It means as soon as it gets in front of the judge, he signs it. So, it could all be completed in a couple of days.”

“Oh my God,” Seth literally squealed, “so, Lois and I do need to get together. When do you want to do this?”

Amused at how he had already switched into wedding mode, Mia shrugged, “I don’t know. Late summer out at the beach or maybe even late September/early October, when the leaves are changing, maybe somewhere up along the Hudson River.”

Eyebrows drawn together, “BBC, you really have no idea what you want.”

Laughing, Mia shook her head, “Not a clue.”

“You are so useless. Little girls grow up dreaming of this. Us gay boys grow up dreaming of this. I’ve been planning your wedding since dark, brooding, can’t-keep-his-dick in his pants poet.”

“You and Lois will figure it out. Just don’t start planning until the judge signs that divorce decree. I don’t want to jinx anything.”

“It’s a deal. Just promise you won’t go all Bridezilla on me.”

“I miss you so much, Princess. I promise to be a good bride as long as you don’t put me in a dress that makes me look fat. And I don’t want to be fru-fru. No fru-fru. Got that?” pointing her finger at the computer screen.

Rolling his eyes, “You’re so annoying. Give my baby a huge kiss from Uncle Seth and give Pretty Boy a blow job from me.”

“With pleasure and with lots of pleasure,” waving goodbye she hit end call.

Chapter Twenty-four

Roberto Castillo was not a southern Californian. Hailing originally from City Island in The Bronx, his accent was heavier than Mia’s, despite twenty years in California.

“Berto Castillo,” he extended a hand to Schooner.

The smile was on Mia’s face even before his hand grasped hers.

“I understand you’re from my neck of the woods,” his warm brown eyes were smiling.

“Grew up on West 85th,” Mia felt immediately at home with him.

“Which High School?” New York City geography was a favorite game amongst native New Yorkers. It included schools, restaurants, clubs and more often than not, you knew someone who they knew, making the degrees of separation surprisingly small for a city so large.

“Fieldston,” Mia said with pride.

“Whoa, nice. Great education,” Berto was nodding, clearly impressed.

“You?”

“Bronx Science,” Berto’s pride equaled Mia’s.

“Ah, a smart one here,” Mia kidded.

His laugh was hearty, “That’s what I try and convince my patients.

Sitting down across from him at his desk, Schooner began, “I understand you are going back to Zambia in a few months. I don’t know how much Malcolm shared. I joined him on a trip twenty-five years ago.”

“Coach Schooner, you are legendary.”

“In my own mind, maybe,” Schooner laughed.

“Seriously,” Berto began, “You really had an effect on those kids. You were kind of a star athlete, coach, camp counselor and NGO worker all rolled into one. One of the doctors we work with, Dr. Banda, was in your soccer league. He’s said on more than one occasion that it was the best summer of his life and that is when he decided he wanted to become a doctor. Apparently, you taught them CPR and Oral-Rehydration Therapy.”

Glancing over at a smiling Schooner, his eyes crinkled in the corners, Mia reached for his hand, his right hand, the one that had been casted the last time he was in Africa. As if sensing her thoughts, he squeezed her hand.

“We’re currently working in and around the capital, Lusaka,” Berto continued, “so it’s a much more urban environment than what you experienced last time. Malcolm mentioned that you were interested in outfitting a rehab facility.”

“I’ve had the opportunity over the last few days to reach out to counterparts in the industry. There are multiple things we can do to help. The equipment piece of it is easy, we have a lot of buying leverage for new product and we all replace machines that are in perfect condition and there’s no reason they can’t be used in clinics. The other two parts that I’m really excited about are launching capital campaigns within our clubs. Maybe a portion of each membership is donated beyond what we fund directly and that would be used to build a state-of-the-art PT rehab facility. The third piece is setting up a scholarship fund through USC’s PT program to work abroad.”

With her own head spinning, smiling at her big-hearted love, Mia was thinking aloud, “My team can certainly put together all the collateral and point-of-sale materials for the membership/capital campaign drive. Brochures, posters. We should shoot video while we’re over there.”

“Excellent idea, especially for major donor appeals for the capital campaign. Get your Nikon out, Ms. Silver, I’m envisioning very large photos hanging in the clubs.” They were in their own space, brains tag-teaming, the electricity crackling like a hot wire hitting a puddle.

Sitting back in his worn leather chair, Berto watched the creative volley and found himself getting caught up in their palpable excitement. Medical missions dreamed of partnering with wealthy scions of industry and Schooner Moore had a personal stake in this venture. He was coming full circle back to where it all began. This was his opportunity to pay back the land and the people that gave him the inspiration that became his life’s blood.

“We’ll be spending time at several medical facilities and also working with a few of the local orphanages,” Berto explained. “We’re trying to put in place a network of facilities and a group of medical personnel to rotate through them.”

By the time they walked out of his office, Mia was tossing ideas at Schooner as fast as he could serve a tennis ball and he was volleying them right back at her. This intellectual collaboration charged every cell in their bodies. For Mia and Schooner, this was foreplay at its best. As they arrived back at his parent’s house, they snuck through the yard like teens, and made their way onto the boat without being spotted. Staying moored at the backyard dock, they raced below deck, and into the aft cabin.

Tackling Mia on the bed, Schooner grabbed Mia’s hands over her head and buried his face in her neck.

“Schooner.”

Pulling away to look at her, he tilted his head to the side.

Mia’s devil grin had reached her eyes and they smoldered like emeralds in the cabin’s dim light. “Schooner, we’re going to Zambia.”

Her words were a portal to every emotion he felt that day he sat in Malcolm’s office, his devastation rapidly receding, as the unknown adventure loomed before him and the realization hit, “I’m going to Zambia.”

Nodding, he could feel his heart bursting as his unanswered dreams finally were becoming his reality. This time it wasn’t ‘I’m’ going. This time it was ‘we’re’ going. Feeling the old ache find a crevice to steal its way into his heart, it was the ache that accompanied him to sleep every night and greeted him at the dawn’s light. The longing to be sharing the wonder of the adventure with her. And now he was staring down at her smile. Her wanting body beneath him.

“Yes, Baby Girl, we are. We’re going to Zambia.” And in that moment, he didn’t want to make love. He wanted to fuck her hard. He wanted to fuck away all the heart-splitting memories of longing for her with every breath he took that summer. He wanted to fuck them away and leave an open path for them to walk together as he showed her everything he ever dreamed of showing her and discovering things he never dreamed he’d be experiencing.

Silently, he made a vow to himself. This time there would be a picture of them together in front of Victoria Falls.

Chapter Twenty-five

The Moore men sat in the Family Room, patriarch Gavin, Schooner, Zac and Nathaniel.

“I hate leaving you,” the worry was evident in Schooner’s eyes.

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” it was Zac that was doing the reassuring. “I’ll still be around for a little bit before I have to go back. Or I could stay.”

“No,” was the stereo response from both his father and grandfather.

“You need to finish school,” Schooner was adamant, “or you won’t be starting college next year.”

Zac had applied to several small private colleges in the northeast and Schooner knew that paying full tuition without any financial aid would help Zac’s chances considerably. Having him on the east coast would ensure that he could keep a closer eye on his unstable son.