He pointed to an area between the restaurant wall and its dumpster, and I walked there."Strip," he said. I'd been right, my clothes were staying behin...."I have this," I told him, pulling a DVD disk in a paper sleeve out of my pocket.He frowned. "Carlos told you not to bring anything," he said."If Carlos wants what he told me, I need it," I retorted.For a moment he glared at me. Then he pulled out a cell phone. "Stay there," he said, and dialed. He spoke into the phone in rapid Italian; I heard. My heart was racing thinking about it framed by the straps of his jock inside his jeans. I didn’t want to move. It was a very long time before I heard the flush. A long time to me any way. He walked out of the bathroom shaking his head. His zipper was wide open and belt only connected at the first notch, not tucked in his belt loop. His head still shaking, he said, “I got a problem.". He came over to my left side, stood starring me up and down, and exhaled. “I get horny around you.” Looking. He wanted to take Nissa's hand but instead he shoved his own hands in his pockets. When he came out the other side he saw that Nissa was already clear on the other side of the plaza. How had she gotten so far ahead of him? He ran to catch up, past the empty fountains and the blank-eyed statues of Beethoven and Father Serra. When he was a kid he used to imagine he heard the statues talking. It scared the shit out of him. His mother convinced him he was just hearing echoes, and he guessed she was. The little kids picked their favorite burger joint for dinner, and again, grandpa treated. That night, Sandy got Monica to do something I hadn't been able to do--spend the night at my house--although not the way I'd envisioned it. Monica and her girls commandeered my bed, each of my kids and their 'significant other' utilized their old bedrooms, and grandpa camped out in the living room with the grandkids.Squealing, writhing bodies woke me the next morning. Seems grandpa was being 'dog-piled'.