Texas, Our Texas 6

Texas, Our Texas

Chapter 6

“What time is it?” Sheldon’s voice was sleepy, and he pulled his pillow over his head in the way he did when he wished the day hadn’t started yet.

“Stay in bed. I’ll have breakfast sent up later. After last night...” Milton trailed off. They’d been like crazy teenagers last night; maybe they put something in the water here. He bent down and kissed the back of Sheldon’s neck, running his tongue over the visible bite mark.

“If you’re going to make breakfast, you better quit,” Sheldon said with a laugh, pulling the pillow from over his head and taking a wild swing at Milton. “Gordon will disapprove if you look all rumpled.”

“No rumpling. My old body will stage a general strike.” Milton sat on the edge of the bed and gently carded his fingers through Sheldon’s red hair, the strands silky soft against his fingers.

“I thought I was going to get to sleep, and you’re sitting here looking all worried. There’s never any rest for the wicked.” Sheldon propped himself up on his elbow, a mock pout on his lips. 

“Brat.” Milton kissed Sheldon’s cheek, his eyes still on his partner. Sheldon looked happy; he was still sprawled in the bed in guileless relaxation, not guarded nor reserved.

“I’m not a bug under a magnifying glass,” Sheldon said in exasperation. “You’re worried about last night. It was hot, and I had a great time. I know we didn’t negotiate it and all that, and you’re going to freak out about that and make me sit down and spell out how far I’m willing to go, and I’m going to hate it, curse at you, and probably break something. Jesus! I’m a big boy. I would have told you to stop if I’d hated it.” Sheldon’s voice lost its exasperation, dropping to a soft husky tone, his expression open and sincere. “I would have told you if it was too much, and you would have stopped immediately. I know that about you; I love that about you. Fuck!” Sheldon swiped at a tear that slid down his cheek. “I wasn’t going to get all schmaltzy. Go eat your breakfast with the ogre, and let me enjoy my luxurious lie in, or I’m getting up too.”

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” Milton kissed Sheldon’s forehead, knowing if he kissed those lips neither of them were going to make breakfast.

Have breakfast with me.” Sheldon entwined his fingers around Milton’s. “You can feed me pieces of fruit one at the time.” His tongue snuck out and licked around the edge of his lips.

“Don’t tempt me, boy.” Milton swatted Sheldon’s thigh that was still under the covers.”You’re familiar with Gordon. I must attend.”

“You’re not making me go; that’s like a first. Or are you having a dominants’ only powwow about Jonah and Samuel. That’s a disaster.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re not blind. You’ve got to see it. Jonah’s no more a dominant than I am. The poor guy, he’s terrified to be what he most needs to be.”

“I thought you wanted to shoot him at dawn.”

“That was before I realized he was a submissive. Now I just feel sorry for the poor guy. Who are you going to find to top him? He can’t stay with Gordon forever, and Landon can’t stand him. That’s pretty obvious.”

“It’s a mess, and there’s the added complication of Samuel. What do you think of Samuel?”

“Shy, sweet, damn hot to look at.”

“Behave,” Milton growled, not angry but knowing that response would be expected and appreciated.

“Well, he is.” Sheldon grinned unrepentantly. “One of his attractions is that he’s gorgeous and totally unaware of it. If he’d let himself enjoy life a little bit, half the men on the East coast would be chasing him.”

“Is he a boy?”

“God if I know. You’re the expert, mister head of the Green Mountain Boys.”

“On submissive matters, I defer to you.”

Sheldon snorted. “Don’t make me laugh. I'm a bratty boy, not a submissive expert. You get us; you sometimes get me better than I get myself. Scary.” 

“Sheldon.” This time the tone was a warning, and the slight stiffening of Sheldon’s shoulders and the tightening of his lips showed clearly that he’d understood.

“I don’t know,” Sheldon said after a moment. He doesn’t feel like a dom, and he doesn’t get all freaky about us like most vanilla types do after a day. He doesn’t participate, but he seems to take it as natural enough. I think he must be attracted to it at some level.”

Milton nodded. He ruffled Sheldon’s hair and stood up. “Enjoy your morning. Be back at 1:00 if you go out.”

“You’re not going to tell me what you think of Samuel?”

“I’m going to be late. I already am late, and you know Gordon.”

“You’d call that dodging the subject if I did that.”

“Sheldon, I’m late,” Milton said with a jaunty wave as he made a dignified scramble for the door. Sheldon was right; Milton was dodging the question. He didn’t know how to categorize Samuel. He, like Sheldon, had considered the possibility that Samuel didn’t belong in the power dynamic in any role and rejected the idea. The young man was shy and retreating, but he wasn’t repulsed. Was he an elusive submissive who turned everything inward and whose submission manifested as quiet good manners, or was he an equally private and polite dominant who hadn’t even imagined that role and completely suppressed that side of his nature? If he were a dominant, he wasn’t the noisy and assertive type, and Jonah was going to need a feel of unleashed power more than Samuel was ever going to manage. That role reversal was going to be impossible; even an experienced dominant was going to have trouble with it. Gordon was having trouble with it. Jonah wouldn’t freely admit to his submissive side with someone as dominant as Gordon; it was going to be impossible with Samuel.

Milton cursed under his breath, words that he never let Sheldon hear and words that anyone with even a dose of mental competence didn’t even think in Gordon’s presence. Gordon was death on bad manners, and he considered swearing the ultimate in bad manners. There was no easy solution. Jonah couldn’t top Samuel. Samuel couldn’t top Jonah. What did that leave them except to break them apart? Interfering bastards all of them, Milton thought, smacking his own palm with his fist. Maybe Gordon could pull a rabbit out of a hat. This would take more than rabbits; it would take fantasy all around.

Gordon was seated at a far table behind a folded Times and a cup of hot coffee. He pretended to be engrossed in his reading, but Milton had seen the glance at him and then to the clock on the wall. Milton was going to have to endure a few words about punctuality. Milton braced himself as he threaded through the tables of immaculate linen and beautifully presented fruit bowls. Only a few people were eating as most chose room service after a hard night. The few diners were all conservatively dressed, several with briefcases, smart phones, or laptops intent on a few minutes of work before blending back into the outside world.

“I took the liberty of ordering for you as I assumed you were unavoidably detained.” Gordon rose with perfect manners and pulled out the chair on his right. “Are either you or Sheldon ill?”

“There is no excuse for my tardiness, sir.” Milton said, recognizing only rapid acknowledgment of his fault might lessen Gordon’s sharp tongue, and Gordon didn’t need to elaborate. Milton knew it was rude to be late and that Gordon was impeccably careful at always arriving at the correct time.

“Very well,” Gordon said with a stare that would turn lesser men into blathering wrecks.

Milton took his seat and unfolded the pristine, white napkin. Almost at the same instant, a waiter poured him a piping hot cup of very black coffee. Milton blew on the hot liquid and took a small sip. “I assume you want to talk about Jonah and Samuel.”

“I do,” Gordon agreed, “but first are you and Sheldon in good sorts this morning?”

“You were actually concerned when I was late,” Milton said, not hiding his smile. “You aren’t the rigid ogre that you pretend to be.”

“Boy,” Gordon growled, “and you have everyone fooled. I should put you over my knee on principal.”

“Spank the head of the Green Mountain Boys. It will cause a scandal.”

“Don’t consider yourself immune, boy.”

“I don’t,” Milton said with another smile.

“As my time is limited,” Gordon said smoothly, “I will grant you a pardon today. I wish to use our limited time to discuss Jonah and Samuel.”

“At your service.” Milton could think of many different responses to Gordon, some that would make Gordon laugh and some that would get Milton turned over Gordon’s knee no matter Milton’s current status, but Milton had been able to tell from Gordon’s intensity last night that he had true concerns about their two visitors from Texas. This was not a time to rattle Gordon’s cage as Sheldon would put it, not that it would stop a boy like Sheldon, but that was also one of Sheldon’s charms, the openness and unshielded aspect of many of his responses.

“What are you smiling about?”

“I was thinking about Sheldon and how he would have responded to you this morning.”

“He’s a dear boy,” Gordon said with a fond smile, “but he’s not renowned for his subtlety or tact.”

Milton snorted into his coffee, nearly sending it spewing out onto the tablecloth. 

“My dear boy.”

“Stop, and you’re right as always. Sheldon would have ended up over your knee in a split second. He is and always will be an impulsive boy.”

“And that suits you, or you would have changed it. Do not underestimate the force of your personality, Milton. You can bend a boy to your will as easily as a sapling bows in the wind. I have Landon to keep my darker urges in check. You have yourself and a love for a boy; a boy that you perhaps should push harder. He was beautiful last night and not in distress. There is no need to deny that side of your personality. You are attuned to your boy; you will know if it is too far.”

“I thought this meeting was to discuss Jonah and Samuel.”

“It is, but your own house must be in order if you are going to assist them.”

“Jonah’s not a dominant,” Milton snapped out.

“Do not change the subject, my lad.” Gordon reached across and took Milton’s coffee cup.

“I was drinking that,” Milton protested.

“You were fiddling with it and avoiding eye contact. Hands flat on the table eyes on me.”

Milton obeyed. Gordon might technically have no authority over Milton now that the presidency has passed to him, but the older top had been Milton’s mentor, and he had lost none of his severe and natural authority. In that tone, he was a man to be obeyed.

“Good.” Gordon took a slow sip of coffee, seeming to savor the rich aroma. “You, boy, enjoyed last night.” 

Milton thought it was a statement, but it might be a question or a request for an affirmation. “Yes.” Milton swallowed a private smile. After Sheldon’s initial apprehension, he had more than enjoyed it.

“Your boy needs regular physical contact. Now that you have this tool, do not make him act out to get want he wants. You can both enjoy this, and even though Sheldon will never be the force Landon is in controlling play, he has been with you a long time and knows how to make his wishes known, and you have always respected those boundaries and no doubt always will.” Gordon pushed the coffee cup back to Milton. “Enjoy yourself. Don’t forget that.”

“Yes, sir.” Milton repressed a smile. How often had he given similar lectures to Tilden?

Gordon smiled gently. It was an expression that few saw. Most saw him as a stern master or a ruthless business man; very few saw him as a kind friend. “I’ll always watch out for you. Now eat your breakfast.”

The service in the breakfast room was as impeccable as Milton remembered. The waiters glided between the tables, invisible to the patrons unless they made a concerted effort to track the magical appearance of fresh coffee and hot toast, none of the ill-timed interruptions of even some of the finer restaurants. The food matched the service, breads and rolls fresh from the oven and Milton’s scrambled eggs a perfect consistency, lightly studded with true country ham.

“What about Samuel?” Gordon asked.

“I don’t know.” Milton buttered a second scone, watching the butter soak into the light crumb.

“That is hardly an answer.”

“You saw him last night. Landon saw him. Does he strike you as a submissive? What does Landon say? He has a good read on these sorts of things.”

“What does Sheldon say?”

“I asked first.”

“Milton.” The growl was friendly, but it still held a touch of warning.

“He doesn’t consider him a top.” Milton had watched their pack of boys closely. They didn’t respond to Samuel as a dominant. Sheldon had picked up from the first or second sentence that Jason had been a dom, and Luke and Mike had noticed almost as quickly. Blade, of course, had caused as much ruckus as possible but that was Blade and also indicative of Jason’s top status. Blade had to be noticed by the dominants. Milton controlled those mad impulses the best he could, but many weren’t going to fade until Blade had his own top around the clock. Mace was never overt with either tops or submissives. He chose to label himself a submissive, but in general he kept that side well in check and never exposed it except with Trent and to a lesser degree with his immediate housemates. He paled at Blade’s obvious attention seeking behavior.

“Does Sheldon consider Samuel a submissive?”

Milton took another bite of scrambled egg, chewing slowly. “Is this a yes or no question, or is maybe an acceptable answer?”

“Maybe has never been an acceptable answer.”

Milton wished he had more jam to spread on his scone or had just taken a large bite of food; that would have given him time to stall. It was more complicated than a yes or no answer.

“I’m beginning to regret that I didn’t have this conversation in my room with you hanging over my knee, my lad.” Gordon’s voice still had a warm rumble which meant he wasn’t truly serious, but merely prodding for Milton to get on with it.

“Sheldon believes that Samuel is a boy.”

“Sheldon believes,” Gordon repeated. “You are not convinced?”

“He might be an introverted and polite boy, but...” Milton took another sip of coffee.

“Trust your judgment, Milton. You are experienced and savvy.”

“He might be a dominant that has repressed his true nature to the point that he is incapable of identifying that side of himself. I’m not sure he will ever be able to reclaim it.”

“Jonah made many terrible choices, but I don’t believe he was a strong enough force to beat the top out of a true dominant.”

“Samuel would never have been a dominant in our model, but more of an analyzer and a guide, someone to lead his partner, not knock him over the head with a frying pan.”

“I know Blade is a difficult boy, but I hope that is not a new technique. It sounds barbaric and more suitable for dispatching a robber.”

Milton smiled tightly. “Tempting as it is, I leave the frying pans in the kitchen.”  

“Would he be better in a relationship without a power exchange?”

Milton ran his hand over his beard, stroking the short, bristly hair. “He is drawn to it in some fundamental way. Both Sheldon and I see that. He’s not appalled when Tilden or I top one of the boys in the house. He takes it as perfectly natural and understands it. A part of him needs it, even if it’s from the bottom side now and not the top.”

“Have you disciplined him?”

“Only in the most general way by laying out a few rules. He’s polite, well behaved, and keeps out of the way--too well behaved.”

“Sheldon is usually quite good at bringing the brat side out in people,” Gordon said dryly. “Are you sure Samuel will fit on that side of the equation?”

“He needs the comfort and the security.”

“That can be found without the power exchange.”

“I know.” Milton took another bite of eggs. 

“Milton,” Gordon said, capturing Milton in an intense gaze. “There must be more reasons than comfort and security to enter a power exchange. We ask our submissives to willingly cede power to us, and we, the dominants, must enjoy wielding the power. This is not about rescue or finding a home for every stray and lost young man. They are not all submissives. In fact, most of them are not subs and will rebel once they find some stability.”

“If he’s not either?”

“He stays with us until he says he’s had enough. You’re a good dominant, my boy. You will know.”

“What would you do?” Milton pushed his plate away. He’d had enough eggs, and while he hid it well, he knew that Samuel and Jonah were a strain, the constant observation, the fear of doing it wrong. Samuel was vulnerable and tentative; Milton didn’t want to overwhelm him. 

“What haven’t you been doing?” Gordon asked, sidestepping the question and forcing Milton to look inward.

“I haven’t used any discipline.” Milton ran his finger around the cup. “He doesn’t talk, and I haven’t forced him.”

“Have you had Adam talk to him?”

“I’ve tried.” Adam was a dominant, but he was genial and soft spoken, and more importantly he had professional training in dealing with abuse victims. He was a doctor, technically a general practitioner, but his practice catered to gay men in all kinds of relationships, and he was a more than capable counselor, and Milton knew that at least one of the set of initials after Adam’s name was some qualification in social work or psychiatric care.  He was a member of the Green Mountain Boys, mostly Milton thought to provide a safe social group for his boy and not because he was drawn to the more overt display of power often seen in the Green Mountain Boys. Adam didn’t frown on spanking, but Milton wasn’t sure he used it with his partner Joe, at least not as anything more than the lightest foreplay. 

“Texas psychiatric services are rife with abuse,” Gordon said, not hiding the disdain in his voice. “They still practice reparative therapy as a recognized psychiatric field. Jonah refused to talk to Adam also. The boy became downright hysterical. I had to spank him.”

“I’m sure Adam had a few words to say about that response.”

“I consulted him,” Gordon said. “I am a dominant; I am not trained in the mental health fields, but it doesn’t require an expert to realize that Jonah is an abuse victim. I am not entirely comfortable treating an abuse victim as a submissive. Corporal punishment can have a tangle of confused connections in the brain for a man such as Jonah.”

“You have personal experience,” Milton said softly. He knew Gordon preferred not to discuss his childhood or his relationship with his late father. 

“I was exiled at fifteen, a punishment that was a blessing, and I wasn’t surrounded by a society that reinforced my father’s hateful message. I was lucky. Jonah has internalized that hatred, and at least at some level even believes some of the messages of failure, strangeness, sinfulness, and whatever other hateful category they wrap around us.”

“Why do you spank him?”

“He responds to it. Every one of his responses indicates that he is a submissive, and he wants to hand me or another dominant, who is either bold enough or foolish enough to try, the power. The only time he talks to me is when he is over my lap.”

“Does he know he’s a submissive?” Milton looked around the room; most of the diners had left, leaving them alone with their coffee. The servers had noticed the intensity of the conversation and had left a silver coffee service at the table, allowing the men to pour their own coffee without interruption.

“At some level he must, but, no he hasn’t identified himself as a sub to either Landon or me. He fights when we hint at it.”

“A submissive must self-identify as such and not be forced into the role,” Milton quoted the Green Mountain Boy’s handbook.

“I am well aware of that passage,” Gordon said sharply. “I am not addled in my old age.” Gordon’s fingers tightened around the coffee cup, and Milton could imagine him grinding his back teeth together. Gordon controlled his body language; he’d taught Milton the same tricks. “My apologies, Milton. I spoke too sharply.”

“Don’t go all formal dominant with me. We know each other too well. I know you are aware of the dangers where you tread, and you are doing exactly what we preach, bringing the potential problems to the attention of the community.”

“You are good,” Gordon said with a flash of amusement in his eyes.

“I learned from a master.”

“Your skills exceed mine and have for several years. I think my relationship with your friend Tilden more than proves that point.”

“Tilden is being inflexible.”

“He was the wronged party. It is his right, and I scared him badly. What’s done is done. We all must live with our mistakes.”

“Are you concerned you’re making an error with Jonah?” Milton asked, searching for a connection in the conversation. Gordon didn’t randomly go down side trails. He’d stop a submissive before the poor boy even realized that he’d started to divert the conversation down a long and irrelevant path.

“I have some unease.” Gordon said after several minutes of silence. “We are trapped in a pattern of resistance, punishment, and capitulation.”

“Let me take him.”

“He’ll be with Samuel.”

“We can’t keep them apart forever, and privacy is a rare commodity in our house,” Milton said with a wry smile. “Jonah will not have a chance to lift a finger to that boy without the cavalry showing up in an instant. I’m physically bigger and stronger than Jonah. He’ll respect that. It may allow him to more freely explore his natural submission with a more subtle use of force.”

“He’ll find it very hard to allow his submissive side to show with Samuel present.”

“The carrot and the stick. Being with Samuel is the carrot, and accepting he’s only allowed in my house as a submissive is the stick. He’ll take the deal,” Milton said with more confidence than he felt. This was dangerous ground, far too close to forcing Jonah into seeing himself as a boy, rather than allowing him to come to that identity naturally.

“I’ll tell him,” Gordon said, plucking his napkin from his lap.

“We should both tell him.” Milton rose from the table. “He needs to see me immediately as an authority figure.”

Together they walked up the wide staircase and Gordon rapped sharply on Jonah’s door. Milton heard the fumble of the lock and the chain sliding back before the door swung open. Jonah was fully dressed except his shoes; he wordlessly stepped back to let the two tops in the room. An open book was propped on the bed.

“Where’s Samuel?” Gordon asked.

“He and that Sheldon went out somewhere.” The way Jonah said that Sheldon made his opinion of the redhead very clear. Living in close quarters with Blade was going to be eye opening for him.

“You didn’t want to go?” Gordon prodded.

“I don’t like cities,” Jonah said, his shoulders rigid and his eyes focused on the wall to the right of Gordon’s head.

“It’s all right to admit that you didn’t want to go out with Sheldon,” Milton said, propping his hip against the bureau. “He’s a bit much for a lot of people. I’m surprised Samuel went with him.”

“Samuel wanted to see the city. He can’t resist anything new,” Jonah said, turning back toward the bed. “Since you’ve obviously come to interrogate me, you might as well make yourself comfortable.” Jonah sat on the bed, his hands tightly pressed together, one socked foot tapping on the thick carpet. This was a man unsuccessfully trying to hide his anxiety.

“I do want to talk with you,” Milton said, intentionally softening and slowing the cadence of his voice. This was a frightened man, stripped of all his defenses. Push too hard and he would bolt. “I want to offer you a chance to come back with Samuel and me. You two have been away from each other too long. It’s not fair, is it? You escape one repressive regime, and then we, your rescuers, separate you.”

“You’ll let us be together?” Jonah’s face softened for a moment before the haunted look came back in his eyes and his jaw tightened.

“It’s not a ruse, Jonah,” Gordon said, sitting down on the bed and ruffling Jonah’s hair. “You should know me well enough to know that I don’t play those kinds of games, my lad.”

Jonah nodded, instinctively moving to the offered comfort of Gordon’s hand.

“Milton and I do have a few rules to discuss,” Gordon said, continuing to stroke through Jonah’s hair.

“You come as Samuel’s partner, but not as his dominant,” Milton said, his gaze never wavering from Jonah’s face. He hoped this would go over without a battle, but he didn’t know Jonah that well, and the Texan’s defensiveness wasn’t boding well. Milton didn’t want to start their relationship by pulling Jonah over his knee. Milton wanted the Texan to know there was more to this relationship than force; Jonah had already seen too much force in his thirty odd years.

Jonah nodded slowly before he jerked from Gordon’s soothing hand. He must have just realized the implications of not coming as a dominant. “I’m not a submissive; I’m not a maniac like that partner of yours.”

“No, you are not like Sheldon. I should be thankful for some small favors in this world,” Milton said with a small smile, not responding to the provocation in Jonah’s words. “Landon isn’t like Sheldon. Submissives come in all shapes and sizes.”

“I’m not a sub,” Jonah spat, standing up and taking a step toward Milton.

“That’s not a good idea,” Milton said in a near whisper. “Sit back down and think.” Milton didn’t move. He wanted Jonah to find the right choice. Milton was confident he could easily physically overwhelm Jonah. The Texan wasn’t a small man, but Milton was both broad and tall with muscles he never lost from a childhood of hard farm labor.

“Oh, God!” Jonah flung himself back down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. “I almost did it again.”

“You didn’t; that is the important thing.” Milton had covered the ground to the bed in two long strides and pulled Jonah tight against him, kissing the closely cropped, dark hair. “You made the right choice. That is what you remember and focus on.”

“What is the matter with me?” Jonah keened his face still buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

“Don’t fight it. I’ve got you.” Milton tightened his arms, trying to project safety and comfort. “Everything is my problem now, and I’m good at this. You’ll come and live with me. You will be accountable to me.”

“I can’t be. I’m not a sub.”

“Shh. Let it happen. We’ll put a name on it later. All you need to know and accept is that you will come and live with me, and you will follow my rules. Can you do that for me, for Samuel?”

Jonah wiped his eyes furiously and looked up before nodding. “I don’t want to be a sub.”

“We’ll talk about that later. All you have to do right now is agree to accept my rules. Jonah, will you follow my rules and our house rules?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Milton rubbed the tense shoulders under his hands. “It won’t be bad; I promise. I’m not the ogre Gordon is.”

“Behave, boy,” Gordon growled. “You’re never too old for a little discipline.”

“Yes, sir.” Milton kept his voice light, hoping Jonah would hear and understand the tease and start to recognize and learn about the genuine affection between all these men, affection he’d been denied all those years in Texas, first by his parents and then by society in general. Milton kissed the top of Jonah’s head again. “I know this is hard, and you’re being very brave. Try to trust me. It will be OK.”

“I’m trying,” Jonah said, his voice thick with tears, his eyes still buried against Milton’s chest. 

“I know,” Milton said softly and with a good deal of sympathy. “You’re trying and that’s all I can ask. Now go wash your face. You should at least see some of the city. Gordon will take you, and he’s far less hair-raising than my maniac partner.” Milton looked over at Gordon, watching for the small nod. “Go on now. It will be fun.” Milton guided Jonah to his feet and pushed him toward the bathroom, waiting for the door to shut and the fan to come on before turning toward Gordon. “I hope I can do this.”

“Milton, if you can’t, it can’t be done. I have every confidence in your compassion and your ability as a top. Now keeping all the other boys from killing him will be the real show stopper.”

“Don’t remind me,” Milton groaned. “How did you keep Landon off of him?”

“Threats. I have a cane.” Gordon smiled. “Actually Landon understands. He may never like Jonah, but he does understand.”

“I hope Sheldon will understand.”

“He has a sharp tongue, and he sometimes fails to acknowledge the possible ramifications of his actions, but he has a kind heart.”

“Speaking of failing to acknowledge ramifications, I wonder in what he has managed to entangle poor Samuel. I expect I will need my afternoon free to untangle their mess.”

“Sheldon won’t do anything unsafe.”

“No, but he’ll guarantee the two of them find trouble,” Milton said grimly, standing up and smoothing the wrinkles out of his khakis. “I told Sheldon to be back at 1:00. I am going to go do some work and fortify my defenses. I’ll see you later.” 

“I’ll keep Jonah occupied. Good luck with your boys.”

“I’ll need it.” Milton said over his shoulder as he shut the door.