Good Man

A thankful heart is not only the greatest virtue, but the parent of all the other virtues.
- Cicero



The days following the American Music Awards were all but a blur; like Wile E. Coyote watching as the Roadrunner flew by him at mach five.

Billie Joe, Adrienne and their sons, plus Nicole, had left to go to Minnesota to spend Thanksgiving with Adrienne's family, who was, from what Caroline had gathered, excited at the prospects of meeting the next generation, via Joey, in a matter of six and a half months.

Caroline had packed her parents up for the holiday to fly with her and her kids back to New York to spend it with Caroline's birth father Alex, sister Timmy, brother-in-law Seth and new niece Jocelyn at Alex's house in Peru, New York. To top it off, Alex had even suggested extending the invite to Mike's birth mother Lucy and half-brother Shawn, which Caroline did. Her in-laws accepted and drove up from Buffalo and would be crashing at Alex's house while Caroline and her parents and her kids would be staying in a hotel about ten miles away in Plattsburgh.

Then there was Tre who had decided he would go up north a bit to his parents' house, and even had all his kids in tow. His sister Lori and her family would be coming over for the day as well as some aunts and uncles on his mother's side. And because he felt no one should be alone on the holidays, Tre had called Ellis, who had been back in Manhattan at the time, and asked her if she wanted to come out to California for Thanksgiving; eat lots of food, watch some football, see Avarielle.

Ellis, declined, though thanked her brother-in-law for the invitation, explaining she was going away for the weekend to stay with some friends who had just bought a fabulous new home in Siasconset, a small seaside town on Nantucket Island, and they wanted to christen it with a Thanksgiving feast for friends and family; Ellis included.

The drive up to Tre's parents house was a short one, but it felt like it was a lot longer because of the weekday and holiday traffic on the roads, but also from having all three of his kids in the SUV; Ramona in the front passenger seat while Frankito and Avarielle in her car seat occupied the backseat. Tre found himself looking over at his eldest from time to time as they drove along. He found it so incredibly odd that she was almost two months from turning twenty; she'd no longer be a teenager anymore, but officially a woman in her twenties.

Her hair was dyed platinum, her eyebrows were recently shaped and her make-up was simple, mostly just some eyeliner and mascara with a touch of rouge on her cheeks and a light coating of pink lipstick. But it made her features pop, especially her blue eyes.

She was so beautiful and it warmed Tre's heart knowing he'd helped create this young woman.

"Dad! You're crossing the double yellow line!" Ramona squealed, wincing, as her voice cut into her father's thoughts.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, turning the wheel and straightening out the vehicle in his own lane. He looked briefly back at his daughter who was giving him an incredulous look. "Sorry," he repeated. "Was lost in thought, there, for a minute..."

"What distracted you?"

"You," he admitted openly.

Giving her father a questioning look, "What for?"

"Just thinking on how grown up you are now, how much time has flown by," Tre explained, turning on his directional to signal he was turning right, and then merged into the right lane. "I still feel like you should only be this little one-year-old, learning to walk backstage at some concert. But then I remember I'm not some twenty-something anymore, and you're gonna be, which gets me wondering how in the hell twenty years has gone by. It seems impossible. I mean, you're all grown up now, living in your own apartment in Los Angeles, making your own way to become a successful actress and you don't really need me anymore."

Ramona smiled and reached her left hand out to touch it down upon her father's arm. "Oh, come on, dad. You know I'll always need you," she insisted. "You're the only dad I have."

Smiling a pleased smile, Tre nodded happily as he signaled right again and turned onto an off ramp, slowing his speed slightly as he did so. Before merging with the oncoming traffic of the road he was joining, he caught Frankito's eyeroll from the backseat from the rearview mirror.

"What are you rolling your eyes about?"

Frankito's brown eyes met his father's blue ones in the rearview mirror and shrugged. "You and Mona."

"What about it?" Tre egged.

"It's stupid. You're both acting like this is an episode of Barney."

Tre rolled his eyes this time as they rolled into Willits, California; his hometown. He still had to maneuver around town till he reached his folks' home which was pretty much off the beaten path up in the boonies, basically.

"Stop being a moody teenager and grow up already, will ya?" Tre snipped a little harder than he meant to. "You're a part of this family which means you are gonna feel in the love or I will put you up for adoption. Mark my words, little man. Mark my words."

Ramona simply snickered at her father as she turned in her seat to look behind at Avarielle who was watching the scenery go by out the window to her right and jabbering quietly to herself. "Avrie, you ready for some turkey and cranberry sauce? Mmm!"

Avarielle turned her head of brown curls, which she had inherited from her mother, and smiled at her big sister, then jabbered on about something as if responding to Ramona's question. The only word that came out clear was her repeating Ramona and nodding, "Turkey."

Frankito's only response to his father's retort was to put the earphones to his iPod into his ear and turn the volume up to his music and ignore anything further until they arrived to his grandparents' house.

Which occurred not even five minutes later as Tre's SUV came climbing up the long, winding driveway that was practically hidden by all the trees and extra foliage. He rolled the vehicle to a complete stop, parking it behind his father's truck which was parked outside the garage for whatever reason.

"We're here, everyone out," he announced, mostly for Frankito's benefit because he was positive the 13-year-old was off in Teenage La-La Land.

Sliding out of the driver's seat Tre touched down to the ground below once his door was open and balled up his left fist and pounded once on the window to the left, back passenger's door where Frankito was to get the boy's attention. Dropping his fist, he stared at his son long and hard for a moment and then moved on to unlock the trunk area; lifting the door up to start pulling out everyone's bags.

"Mona, you got Avrie?"

"Yup," Ramona replied, already out of the SUV and opening up the right, back passenger door and leaning inside. She unhooked her little sister from her carseat and smiled. "Ready to see grandma and grandpa?"

The little girl nodded and reached her hands out to her big sis who scooped her up and then rested on her hip as she closed the car door.

"I got your bags, hon, if you will take care of Avrie and take her inside," Tre spoke further to his eldest. "Frankie, put your iPod away and come over here and help me take our bags inside."

"Ramona's got a free arm," Frankito grumbled. "She can carry something."

"She needs two arms for Avrie."

"No, she doesn't."

Tre poked his head around the side of the SUV and flashed his son a 'don't fuck with me or I will end you' look. "Have you met your little sister, by any chance? She is the epitome of a wiggle worm who will go running off and get into trouble. If I say Ramona needs two hands for her, I say she needs two hands. Now bring your two hands over here and grab two bags."

Frankito kicked at the paved driveway and muttered something under his breath as he tucked his iPod and earphones into his pocket and begrudgingly snatched up the two smallest bags. Without a word to his father, he turned on the heels of his feet and stalked off toward the front door just as Frank Edwin Wright, Jr. threw open said door and smiled.

"There's my favorite son," Frank called out with a smile and looking more and more like Santa Clause every day.

Tre made a face and then laughed. "See, now, if I had a brother, I'm sure that would mean more to me..."

Frank just smiled and walked up to his only son and embraced him in a bear hug before looking at his grandson who went storming away without so much as a 'hi, grandpa.' "What's his problem?" the elder Wright questioned, as Ramona walked up to him with Avarielle.

"He's thirteen," Tre replied as if that was the only explanation needed.

Accepting this answer, Frank beamed again as he reached his hands out to snatch Avarielle out of her big sister's arms. "Peanut!" he cooed, giving the toddler a big smooch on her cheek as he held her. "Can you say 'grandpa'?"

"Hey, uh-uh," Ramona shook her head. "She's not saying grandpa before she says Ramona. She already says mama, dada, baba, baby and 'Fankio' for Frankito. I'm next, old man," she quipped as she was pulled in for a side hug by her grandfather.

"Hello to you, too, sweat pea," Frank smiled, squeezing his arm tightly around Ramona's waist and kissing her forehead.

"Hi, grandpa."

Tre lifted the remaining bags into his hands and arms just as his father passed Avarielle back to Ramona. "Let me help you, Frankie."

"Nah, it's alright, dad. I got it," the soon-to-be 42-year-old insisted. "I mean, didn't you just hear Ramona? You're an old man."

Frank gave his son a knowing smirk and snatched one of the larger bags out of his son's hands anyway. "Not too old that I still can't beat your ass in."

Tre just grinned. "That's my dad. Ready to make with the love and affection."



Later that night, once everyone was settled in, Tre was lounging on the couch with his brother-in-law, Lori's husband, while his dad sat in 'his chair' and all three men were watching Die Hard on TBS.

"Dad, you own this DVD. Why don't we pop that in so we don't have to be bothered with watching commercials? Or hell, you got Tivo. Fast forward the commercials."

"Requires energy."

"To press a button on the remote?"

"Yep."

"Lazy."

"Yep," Frank willingly agreed.

"He's entitled to be," Lori's husband remarked. "He's retired, not a working stiff like you and me."

"What Frankie does for a living isn't work, really. He's a lucky stiff. He gets paid to do what he loves."

"Ah, very true." Tre nodded and looked at his brother-in-law and pointed teasingly. "Ha ha, you actually have to work."

After receiving a swift kick to the shin from his brother-in-law, Tre yelped slightly, kicked back and excused himself to go grab a beer from the kitchen.

"Grab me one, while you're up," Frank called out as he leaned over the arm rest of his chair and looked at his son-in-law and purposely spoke loud enough for Tre to hear, "Did I ever tell you the story about how Frankie's really the mailman's son?"

Tre just shook his head and laughed as he sauntered into the kitchen where his mother, Lori and Ramona were all sitting around the table with cups of coffee while Avarielle sat in a high chair eating a sliver of cheesecake.

"Hey, how come she gets cheesecake and I don't?"

Lori looked at her brother and laughed. "Because she's the only one who doesn't have to worry about the cheesecake going to her butt."

"The joys of a child's metabolism," Tre cooed dreamily. "Wait, then how come I had slight boy tits when I was Frankito's age?"

"Puberty."

"Ah, yes. Good times." Tre just snickered at his own comment and went to the fridge and opened the door pulling out two longneck bottles of Budweiser. "What time is everyone else coming over tomorrow for dinner?"

"I told your aunts and uncles to come by 3. The turkey should be done by then," his mother replied while stealing a dab of cheesecake from the highchair's tray where it sat in front of Avarielle, sans plate. "All the pies and side dishes were made yesterday and today. I did the cleaning today with Lori's help before you and your kids arrived."

"Awesome timing on my part, then," quipped Tre as he twisted off the caps of both beer bottles.

All three women -- and yes, that would be including Ramona -- looked at Tre and scowled mockingly as he just shrugged and walked over to his mother and planted a big kiss on her cheek.

"Oh, you know I love you and would shovel elephant shit for 365 days straight in 90 degree weather for you," he remarked.

"And you'd probably find some sick pleasure in it, too," Lori joked as she took a sip of her coffee.

"Probably."

The Wright women snickered and returned to their previous conversation that was being held prior to Tre entering into the kitchen. He returned to the living room and handed his father his beer and then excused himself again to go find his son.

In the downstairs den, he found Lori's kids crowded around the computer watching funny videos on YouTube but his son was not among them, so he made his way upstairs to the second floor and listened carefully for any sounds to signify where Frankito might be.

And that's when he heard a muffled voice coming from behind a closed door. Walking up to the door of the room which had been his while growing up, Tre quietly placed his ear to the door.

"Uh, yeah, so I was thinking maybe after this weekend, um, next weekend, we could go to the movies or something? I can ask my dad to drive us or something..." came Frankito's slightly nervous sounding voice. Tre couldn't help but smirk when he heard his son's voice crack at one point.

Puberty.

Good times, good times.

"Oh," a more crestfallen remark emitted from the 13-year-old's mouth. "Uh, yeah...that's okay. No, totally. It's okay. Uh, then, yeah, I'll just see you in school then." A few moments of silence commenced, followed by, "Okay. Talk to ya later, Katie. Bye."

Tre figured the conversation his son was having, obviously over the phone, was over, and when he heard slight sniffles, his heart tightened in his chest and he knocked softly on the door.

"Frankito? Can I come in?" Tre asked, and waited.

"Uh...uh, yeah, okay. Hold on."

A few seconds passed and then the door opened, revealing his son standing before him, about a foot shorter and looking up at his father.

"You okay?" Tre wondered, noticing there was a dry tear streak down his son's cheek.

Frankito nodded adamantly, but he wasn't fooling anybody. "Uh, yeah, I was just, uh...talking to a friend," he answered, gesturing to his cell phone on the bed.

"A friend named Katie?"

Beginning to frown, the teen turned away. "You were listening to my phone call?"

"Maybe a little. Just the tail end," Tre admitted. "I was looking for you and heard your voice." Off his sounds continuing frown, "So, who's this Katie? Girl you like?"

Sighing heavily, Frankito sat down and nodded. "Yeah."

Following suit, Tre sat down beside his son, took a sip of his beer and then held the bottle between his knees. "What's she like?"

"Nice," Frankito shrugged.

"Is she hot?"

Frankito looked up at his dad and made a face. "Daaaad."

"What? I'm asking you a simple question. Is she hot or just pretty?"

"She's pretty," his son decided on.

"Pretty is much better than hot, if you ask me," Tre offered his two cents. "She a blonde, brunette, redhead?"

"Blonde."

"So, you asked her out to the movies?"

"Yeah," a defeated response if ever there was one. "But she said she couldn't."

"How come? Parents told her she's too young to go on dates with a rockstar's kid?"

Frankito shook his head and smirked despite his bummed mood. "No. She said she couldn't go out with me because she's going out with Tyler Griffin."

"Who's Tyler Griffin?"

"He's a ninth grader." Frankito pouted and grabbed his phone, fiddling with it idly. "He's older, taller, thinner, better looking. I'm not surprised, really."

This reminded Tre of his own personal experience.

"Alright, so she's not into you the way you're into her. It happens. That just means there's someone better for you out there. And you're still young and have many more years to be hung up on girls."

"But I really like her."

"I'm sure you do. But you can't get blood from a stone, bub. The right girl will come along when you least expect it. You might go through several girls before you meet her, but when you do, you'll know it."

"How?"

"'Cause you'll feel it in every fiber of your being."

Frankito gave his father a withering look. "Have you been memorizing Hallmark cards, dad?"

Foregoing a witty retort, Tre continued in all seriousness. "I'm not kidding. You might meet the right girl when you get to high school, or when you get to college, or maybe you won't meet her till you're in your thirties. The point is, you will meet her."

"Have you met your right girl?"

Tre stared straight ahead, letting the thumb on his right hand slide up and down the neck of the beer bottle as he considered the question. Twisting his lips for a moment, he nodded slowly. "Yes, I did."

"Well, you've been married three times..."

"And the third time was a charm," Tre replied. "No offense to your mother, of course."

"None taken."

"What about Caroline? If you and her hadn't broken up, would you have married her?"

Tre had asked himself that same question so many times in the past. He nodded again. "I had planned on it once upon a time. But she married Uncle Mike and that was her right person."

"But she's not married anymore. Do you think she'll find someone else and not be alone? Are you gonna ever get married again?"

The barrage of questions, Tre wasn't sure he knew how to answer. "I, uh...well, I don't wanna be alone for the rest of my life. I just haven't been ready to move on with someone else. It's still too soon for me. And as for Caroline, she insists she'll never get married again, that she'll always be Uncle Mike's wife, which is commendable, really. But I don't think that's to say she won't want some sort of companionship as she gets older." He then added, "No one should be alone."

"So, we're two single guys on the holiday." Frankito began to grin as he nodded toward his dad's beer bottle. "Can I try a sip?" he asked boldly.

The teen waited for his father to flip out on him or give him a stern lecture on how he was way underage and how he could even think to ask such a question, but he was surprised when his father shrugged and handed him the bottle.

"One sip, and one sip only," Tre spoke severely. "And don't tell your mother or she'll barbecue my head."

Wide-eyed and suddenly nervous, Frankito took the beer bottle in his hands and looked momentarily at his father to make sure the grown man wasn't yanking the teen's chain. When he saw no sign of doing any such thing, Frankito smirked and placed the bottle to his lips and took a big gulp.

The wince and sour face that followed was priceless.

Frankito swallowed the amber liquid but quickly passed the bottle back to his father and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ugh, that was gross. How do you drink that?"

"It's an acquired taste," Tre laughed, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig. "Just like all alcohol. And if I catch you drinking any before you turn twenty-one, I will barbecue your head. We clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good." Then, gesturing the bottle at his son, "Want another swig?"

"Ew, no."

Tre smiled and stood up, looking down at his son before excusing himself to return downstairs. "Good boy."

As Tre began to step through the bedroom door, Frankito spoke up. "Uh, dad?"

Turning, "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Holding onto the doorknob with his free hand, Tre Cool smiled down lovingly at his teenage son and nodded. "Anytime."