Untouchable (boyxboy)

Chapter 7

Five hours and too much nineties rock music later (an hour in, I resolve that Dylan's old CDs will not be making the return trip) we arrive at Isaac's rich uncle's house.

It's on Tahoe's south shore, a lakefront property with a private pier, swathes of perfectly manicured lawn, and a glass-walled patio.

"Jesus. What the hell does your uncle do?" I ask, feeling reluctant to park my old car anywhere near the flaunted wealth on display before us.

"He's a movie producer for one of the big animation studios," Isaac says. "Don't worry—he's cool."

"If you say so," I reply.

I park in front of the massive garage, and Isaac gets our bags from the back. Together, we approach the door and Isaac rings the bell.

After a short wait, the door opens to reveal a short, balding man wearing sandals, khaki shorts, and a Hawaiian t-shirt.

"Hey, Uncle Reg!" Isaac says, opening his arms for a hug.

"Izzy!" the man exclaims, wrapping his arms around Isaac and lifting him a few inches off the ground. "Wowsa, you've grown!"

"C'mon, no I haven't," Isaac protests. "It's only been six months since you saw me last, and I'm twenty-three. I stopped growing a few years ago.

"Not taller—I mean you filled out. Look at these guns." 'Uncle Reg' squeezes Isaac's biceps appreciatively. "All that surfing pays off after all, huh? And who's this?"

He looks past Isaac to where I've been standing, hanging back a few feet and growing increasingly uncomfortable with all the hugging and touching going on. Isaac's family all seem very physical.

"This is Dylan's brother, Felix," Isaac says. "Felix, meet my uncle, Reginald Mason."

"Everybody calls me Reg," he says, thankfully just giving me a friendly wave. "Nice to meet ya, Felix. Come on in—I'll give you the tour."

He leads us into an open foyer, with paved stone floors and a broad set of sleek stairs leading to the second level. The house's theme seems to be a river landscape, with light pine and birch wood accents, smooth stone, and lots of glass. It's airy, clean, and minimally furnished. The living area alone could easily hold two-dozen people without feeling crowded, and along with the outdoor spaces and access to the beach, it's an ideal space for a wedding. Much of the wall facing the lake is glass, and I'm struck by the beauty of the view.

It seems almost criminal that one person could have enough money to claim a piece of it for himself. Something so sublime shouldn't be for sale.

"Not bad, huh?" Reg says, joining me by the huge stretch of glass. "That's my boat, Slick Willie." He points to a large sailboat anchored off the end of the private pier.

"Slick...Willie?" I repeat, somewhat unwillingly.

"Yeah—named it after my late business partner. Slippery sun-of-a-gun, ol' Willie was," he says fondly. "I'll take you out on it sometime." He speaks with the enthusiasm of a kid showing off a favorite toy.

After we've seen the house, he takes us upstairs to our rooms. I don't know what a single man wants with a five-bedroom, four-bath house that he doesn't even live in year-round, but at least it's spacious and I don't have to worry about any weird sleeping arrangements. At least, not until the rest of our families show up.

Once we've settled in, I meet Isaac downstairs so he can show me the patio, pool, and hot tub.

As we walk down to the sand and the edge of the blue lake, I ask the question that's been on my mind for the past half-hour.