2) Our Story Resumes in 2004, as Told by One of the Younger Generation
The two men sprawled on the couch, the blue light and din of the TV shining on their faces. The laughter on the screen blared at the men, their weary ears no longer hearing as well.
"Ya know, Beej, we were just like them," the man in the red bathrobe said, gesturing to the dancing figures of JD and Turk on the screen. "Doctors, Surgeons, playing pranks, saving lives. We even had uniforms, just like them."
"However, Hawk, we did not dance like that," replied the man in the pink shirt.
"No matter. By the way, I'm Turk. I've got the smooth dancing moves," replied the first, holding and swaying an imaginary woman in his arms.
"What? No way. Not after that dance. Turk's bald, I'm pretty close. End of story, Hawkeye." The man in the pink shirt was shaking his head as the first continued to hum and murmur sweet nothings into the ear of his imaginary dance partner.
The two men bickered back and forth good-naturedly when the front door burst open.
"Papa? BJ?" A young women's voice rang out. Impatient clicks echoing off the floor meant trouble.
"Dani's home, Beej," Hawkeye stage whispered. "She's not going to be happy with us."
"That's right, Papa. I am not happy," announced the brunette walking into the room. "Another notice from the property manager! What did you do to poor Mr. Levin this time?"
"Why, honey, nothing at all," Hawkeye reassured his pretty young granddaughter. "Would Beej and I ever do such a thing?" he asked with his biggest blue puppy dog eyes.
Dani stared at him, and then BJ, who was doing a fine job of keeping a straight face. Then she burst out laughing. "Okay, I give. What did Mr. Levin do to deserve the enormous teepeeing? And you two, with the joint age of well over 150, how did you get the giant plastic snowman suspended above his deck?"
The two men burst out laughing. "Oh, you should have seen it, Dani," cried out BJ. "Crazy old Levin kept letting his dog water the greens out front. We asked him to stop, because this place is a high-class joint and all. And really, do you expect us to give you our secrets? Especially when we might need to use them on you?"
True, it was a low-rise off of the hippest street in Austin, with two bedrooms for the two old tent mates and a beautiful view of the Texas State Capital from their third floor balcony. Food, shops and entertainment were a skip away, which was good for Hawkeye and BJ, who were getting on in years. However, this also meant the property manager and the condo association would have no problem kicking the pranking duo out and filling the condo in a blink of an eye.
"Papa, BJ, please, please don't get put on probation again," Dani pleaded. "It's happened so often the homeowner's association president just hands me the notices every time she sees me!" Then she gave a very familiar mischievous grin. "Besides, my place is awfully cozy, and I don't have room for the two of you AND your egos."
Hawkeye grinned at his best friend and then looked with pride at his granddaughter. She came over to their condo for dinner twice a week, and they always made sure any man she attempted to date knew that she had very protective family members who happily cleaned their imaginary Korean War-era guns every time she brought someone home to meet them. Granted, not that either gun had actually been fired, much less existed, but the person who stuck with Dani wouldn't care.
"Dani California, what do you want for dinner?" Hawkeye asked.
"Papa, you know that it's not the most complimentary nickname in the world, don't you?" she replied.
"No matter. Mexican, Japanese, Italian, Sonic, ice cream? Culinary delights await my delightful granddaughter." Hawkeye spread his arms wide and gestured toward the street.
"What, I get to have dessert first? No specially cooked BJ Hunnicutt homemade meal?" Dani wasn't all that surprised. BJ was the best cook in their place, which wasn't saying much, and her grandfather probably wasn't all that appreciative.
"Nah, Beej felt he needed a night off from his role as galley-slave." Hawkeye reached for Dani's arm. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and they began walking toward the door.
Dani knew her arrangement with her grandfather and his best friend was unusual for a 25-year-old. It was simple, really. Her parents met, not married and had a child, not particularly in that order, way too young. Her father ran off, leaving her mother with a little baby to go along with her fresh high school diploma. She died in a car accident when Dani was four. Her grandparents, always there when her mother had class, took her in, and they moved Dani in to their rustic home in tiny Crabapple Cove, Maine. This lasted until the day after Dani turned 11, in which Papa and Nana had sat down, looks of concern on their faces, saying the family was taking an extended holiday to Austin, Texas for a few months. It was Nana Pierce's hometown, and it was her burial-place, three years later. Her Papa, fleeing too many memories in Maine, decided he liked the warm weather and advances in air conditioning, and decided they, too, would stay in Texas. Her junior year in high school, BJ's wife had passed on. Papa disappeared for a month, then came back with BJ, a bunch of suitcases, and a set-up for a new sitcom. "My Two Gramps," Dani called it. BJ took the spare bedroom and the cooking duties, which both Pierces were thankful for.
The three of them had a special relationship. Dani always told the same story to describe it. Senior year of high school, she went with the school choir to New York City near the end of the year, Papa Hawkeye and BJ ever dutiful as chaperones. Being herded with 75 other choir members and chaperones and grandfather figures around an exciting city for a week on end was trying Dani's nerves, and she yearned to break out a little. Halfway through a speaker series starring some random and uninteresting storyteller, she convinced a friend of hers to sneak out and find a fun little joint, where they could hopefully sneak in, get some drinks, and really enjoy being in New York City. She and Darling Dave, as she called him, headed out at intermission to mingle. Dear darling Dave, male model pretty with an amazing sense of style and gayer then a drag show revue, was the perfect partner in crime.
They found the Blue Note, a club a block and a corner away from the theater. It was hidden, but no line, which was important, because their fake ids would not stand up to a bouncer. Dave easily passed for early 20s, and Dani, with her geometric black and white shift, wasn't bad-looking herself. They passed muster at the door and found a small table, each swirling martinis and people-watching with as much nonchalance as two 18-year-olds could muster. It was a mix of people of all ages, and Darling Dave swore to her that Ralph Fiennes was at the booth to their left. The room was backlit in a gentle blue hue as they swirled around the dance floor to the beat of the jazz combo band on stage. That was their one mistake.
Returning to their table, the waitress stopped by with martinis for the two of them. From the gentlemen in the booth, she indicated, and nodded in the direction. Dani turned and groaned. Sure enough, Papa and BJ were toasting the two of them. Dani and Dave grabbed their drinks and migrated to the booth. Turns out Hawkeye and BJ had found the storyteller as un-entertaining as Dani and Dave. They, too, headed to a club they had once visited many years ago, watching the crowds, flirting with the wait staff and admiring the couples on the dance floor.
Papa asked Dani for a dance. They swirled around the dance floor, Dani slightly buzzed and more than slightly nervous. He had said, "Dani my girl, what would your grandmother say to this?"
Dani replied truthfully, "She would say, 'Danielle Elizabeth Pierce, stop acting like your grandfather.'"
Papa had let out a roar and twirled her around. "True, true. We'll enjoy tonight, and then you will have a higher authority to respond to when we get home." He twirled and dipped her one more time toward the booth in the back, and she got a glimpse of BJ laughingly shaking his finger at her. The four of them had enjoyed the evening, and Dani's punishment was dinner duty for the next two weeks. Honestly, she didn't know who had it worse; her for cooking, or Papa and BJ attempting to eat the finished product.
There were some boundaries. Dani had her own apartment now, and her own career. True, she had stayed in Austin for undergrad at the University of Texas, living in the dorms, but Papa and BJ insisted she study abroad, so she did and then came back. Austin was her home, too, and it was easy to graduate, find a job and keep close by. Her two Gramps were not getting any younger, Papa at 83, and BJ a sprightly 81, although neither of them acted like it, amusing most of the people they met. She had lost a lot of family young, but the one constant was her grandfather. His best friend was a bonus. Maybe not so much their plots against their nosy, busy body neighbor.
Explaining their relationship earned Dani some stares, until the people questioning her met her Papa and BJ. Whether volunteering at her school or the veteran's hospital, domineering the homeowner's association meetings or charming the tourists in their little part of Austin, their quick wit and easy smiles paved the way for friendly relationships and a few memorable moments. All except for their nosy neighbor, who would be happy to send all three of them to the nearest lockup.
Dani remembered earlier in the week. The harried manager met her as she entered the building, standard manilla envelope in hand. She passed it wordlessly to Dani as they crossed paths. Dani groaned and headed up the flight of stairs, peeking into the envelope. Peter Levin, in the condo next to Papa and BJ's, had rebuffed all overtures of friendship, called and reported everyone in the building for noise and sight violations and never bothered to follow the rules himself. This led to often and occasionally hilarious pranks, which Dani would never admit to her two Gramps. The HOA manager had long given up trying to reason the elderly gentlemen on the third floor and simply handed notices to Dani, who passed them to Papa and BJ, who then burned them.
"You Saran wrapped his parking space?" Dani asked incredulously as she entered the condo, holding yet another letter from the HOA. "Are you insane?"
"No worries, Dani," her Papa reassured her, giving her a hug and a peck on the cheek.
"Levin was fine, his car was fine, and he better learn not to report us to the HOA," BJ added from the sofa. "Glass houses, glass parking spaces, you know."
"Besides, it's not like we were stealing and reading his mail," Papa added, as an aside trying to make her feel better.
"Yet." BJ gave her a smirk. Good Lord.
"Yes, the man is obnoxious, and yes, he shouldn't tattletale, but the more you bait him the more he reacts," Dani said with a sigh. "He bought a condo. He has lived there since all of you moved in a few years ago. He's not leaving in three months."
"Maybe he will," Papa said hopefully.
"Maybe he will realize that community living is not for him," BJ added.
"Maybe he will realize he is not perfect and the rest of us are not trying to live up to his standards of perfection," Papa added.
"Nah, Hawk, perfect Peter Levin is who we should all aspire!" BJ protested.
"Maybe you will run out of perfect pranking ideas?" Dani asked hopefully. She gave up, walked over and looked at the chessboard. "Who's winning?"
"I am!" BJ crowed. "Therefore, Japanese for dinner!" Dani laughed as her Papa pouted silently, and the three of them had walked to the elevator, just as they were doing tonight. It was nice getting to spend her evenings with the two elderly gentlemen on the third floor.