Destination, Wedding!

by Xavier Mayne

  Kerry smiled at Donnelly. “He’s not the same without you, you know.”

  A warmth spread across Donnelly’s chest as Kerry beamed at him. He shook his head. “You should see what I’m like without him.”

  “You both are amazing, and I can’t let you do this,” Sandler said. “You should be in a castle, getting ready for your wedding, not skulking across Switzerland trying to help me rescue my high school sweetheart from some mad scientist.”

  “Sandler, I can’t really explain it any other way than this: this is what we do. I don’t know why, but the universe has seen fit to keep giving us these chances to help people—people who for whatever reason need just the help that Ethan and I can give. If we can help, we should. And so we do. It’s as simple as that.”

  “But it’s not like we’re going to break into the clinic at night and steal him away,” Sandler replied. “We just have to let the police or whoever know what his parents are trying to do and they’ll stop them, right?”

  Donnelly sucked in his cheeks and looked at Kerry. She simply sighed and returned his mournful look. The news wasn’t good, and she seemed to be as reluctant as he was to deliver it.

  “It gets complicated when it comes to medical issues,” Donnelly said as kindly as he could. “His parents are likely to have a power of attorney to make medical decisions for him, and there’s nothing illegal about what this doctor is doing. The drugs are legal—he’s just using them in a way that the people who made them don’t think is responsible.”

  Kerry nodded. “Hippocrates notwithstanding, it can be really hard to prove that medical treatment is doing harm. Think about chemotherapy. It’s basically a treatment designed to kill the cancer a little more quickly than it kills the patient. To the casual observer, it looks like torture, and plenty of people who have cancer decide they’d rather not go through it. But the majority are going to fight it aggressively, no matter how painful it is. Now, if you’re convinced, like the Hendrickses seem to be, that being gay is as bad as cancer, then an aggressive treatment seems like their only option.”

  Sandler looked bleakly from Donnelly to Kerry and back again. “Then what good does it do for us to even go to Geneva? If we’re not going to be able to do anything….”

  Donnelly smiled bracingly. “I’m sure there are things we can do. We just need to get there and see what our options are.” He sensed Sandler needed something more concrete to occupy himself with. “Have you ever carried legal documents?”

  “I’ve done some. Not as much as the diplo work, but a few times a year.”

  “Are there any attorneys you could call, see if they can give you some sense of what might be done?”

  Sandler visibly seized the chance to have something to do that might be helpful. “That’s an excellent idea.” He pulled out his phone and started flicking through contacts.

  Brandt walked briskly back into the cafe. “All set. The van that was sent to take us to Whitford is going to take us to London instead. From there I managed to get us the last four seats on the last train back to Paris. After a middle-of-the-night layover, we’ll be on our way to Geneva. We should be there around noon.” He held Donnelly’s phone out to him, but Kerry snatched it from him.

  “One of the lawyers who’s been working on the Rauthmann thing is a friend. I’ll check with her to see if there’s any info she can give us that might help.”

  Donnelly nodded and let Kerry take the phone. She dialed, then got up to pace as she talked. She and Sandler crossed paths several times, as he too walked back and forth, tracking down someone—anyone—who might be able to help.

  Brandt sat back down next to Donnelly, and they watched their new friends’ progress across the floor, heads swiveling like they were observing two tennis matches at the same time.

  “James’s travel agent booked us into a suite at the best hotel in Geneva,” Brandt said as the pacing continued. “He felt so bad about the mess we’ve been through that he’s treating us to our little adventure. Nice of him.”

  “Indeed,” Donnelly agreed.

  “That means we’ll finally get to share a bed again,” Brandt continued casually.

  “That’ll be nice.”

  Brandt leaned over to whisper into Donnelly’s ear. “I’m going to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.”

  Donnelly was powerless to prevent a devilish grin from spreading across his face. “You’d better,” he whispered back. “Because at midnight we switch. I plan to give you as good as I get.”

  “I think you’ll be completely exhausted by midnight.”

  “I think you’re in for a big surprise.”

  Brandt playfully bit Donnelly’s ear. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  Donnelly turned and looked into Brandt’s eyes, suddenly serious. “I never want to be away from you again.”

  “Sounds like a deal.”

  They kissed.

  “I’m just worried about one thing,” Donnelly said. “How am I going to make it all the way to Geneva without tearing your clothes off?”

  “I was just asking myself the same question. Be strong, Officer Donnelly. And in the meantime, I invite you to cop an inappropriate feel anytime you like.” He slipped his hand under the table, along Donnelly’s thigh, and up to his very full crotch. “That’s what I’ll be doing.”

  “Oh, fuck,” Donnelly moaned. It was going to be a long journey.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Monday

  Hôtel Genève

  FOR ONCE, all the mechanisms of travel meshed perfectly for the newly constituted foursome. The train left London on time, and while spending the wee hours of the morning in a train station was a bit tedious, the ride into Geneva was both scenic and smooth. Their hotel was a short walk from the train station, allowing them a welcome opportunity to stretch their legs.

  The hotel elevator conveyed them to the very top of the historic hotel, and through double doors at the end of the grand hallway was their suite. The two bedrooms that opened off the luxuriously appointed parlor boasted commanding views of the lake.

  “Dibs on the room with the twin beds,” called Kerry, after bustling from room to room. “Then Sandler won’t be able to make a move while I’m sleeping and defenseless.”

  “I think we established when you fell asleep on me on the train that you’re not my type,” Sandler replied. “And we further established that you snore.”

  “You are such a charmer,” she said with a laugh as she chucked his cheeks like a doting grandmother. He laughed with her, his anxious mood seeming to lift under the influence of Kerry’s joviality.

  “So I guess we get the big bed,” Brandt said with a wink at Donnelly.

  “Make sure you check for structural integrity before y’all let loose on it,” Kerry warned, then broke into giggles.

  “Thanks for your concern,” Donnelly said drily. “But I assure you my fiancé will be a perfect gentleman this evening.” He smiled at Brandt, mischief in his eyes.

  “We’re well out of your jurisdiction here, Officer,” Brandt replied, a husky growl underlying his voice. “Your assurances, among other things you hold dear, are subject to violation.”

  “Welp, good night, everyone!” called Donnelly as he seized Brandt by the arm and began dragging him to the bedroom.

  “See you in the morning,” Brandt added over his shoulder, not even making a show of resisting Donnelly’s firm grip.

  “You two have fun,” Kerry said as the door to their bedroom slammed shut. She shrugged at Sandler as the two of them stood in the parlor, suddenly alone.

  “Here’s a suggestion,” he began, “how about we head down to the café in the lobby and plot some strategy for tomorrow?”

  “Excellent idea,” she replied as she picked up her bag. “That way we’ll be out of the impact zone.” She rolled her eyes toward the bedroom door.

  Sandler laughed and held the door open for her. “After you, m’lady,” he said with a bow.

  “Such a gentleman,”
she said as she stepped with regal grandeur through the doorway. Behind her, not-very-gentlemanly noises began to emanate from the bedroom. They were getting out just in time.

  The hotel lobby was suffused with the golden light of the late afternoon sun, laced with the quiet conversation of the wealthy. They found a high table at the café that occupied a windowed corner of the lobby, overlooking the street, and soon had steaming mugs of strong coffee laced with even stronger liqueur. The sky darkened as a storm approached from across the lake, and gentle rain began to fall on the city as streetlights blinked on and pedestrians began to hurry on their way.

  A delicious warmth spread across Kerry’s chest, both from the coffee and the high-proof enhancement it was spiked with. They watched the street in silence for several long minutes. Then she turned to study the man across the table from her. Sandler’s expression was distracted, not by the street scene Kerry had been watching but by a deeper mix of emotions that etched his face with worry. She thought about asking him something, though she had no idea what she could possibly say that would be appropriate, given what he’d been through in the last twenty-four hours. So she waited.

  Finally, after nearly a quarter hour of staring blankly ahead, he spoke. “Do you think he’s really out there?” he said quietly, looking out the window.

  She saw the desolate expression on his face, heard the utter lack of hope in his voice, and knew that blithe words of optimism wouldn’t be enough. She reached across the small table and put her hand on his arm. “I do,” she said solemnly.

  He turned at her touch, looking first down at her hand and then up to meet her gaze. He seemed no less lost than he had before.

  “He is here,” she said slowly, seriously. “And you will get to him before anything bad happens.”

  He closed his eyes for a long, dismal blink. When he opened them, he seemed to be, if anything, even more hopeless. “It’s been ten years since the accident, and his life is still entirely in his parents’ hands. I think bad things are the only things that have happened to him.”

  “I know it seems grim, but you have to be hopeful,” she replied, as gently as she could. “Maybe his parents have been keeping him prisoner against his will.”

  He looked at her, startled. “How is that in any way hopeful?”

  “Because it means he may be fine, physically and mentally, but his parents have managed to convince everyone—well, not everyone, but Dr. Rauthmann at least—that he’s sick.”

  “And that’s supposed to be better than actually being sick?” His furrowed brow clearly showed he wasn’t buying this pep talk at all.

  “It is,” she answered decisively, “because you are here now to save him from them. Once he’s rescued from their clutches, he’ll probably be fine.”

  “Sure, because people who’ve been institutionalized against their will for nearly a decade just bounce right back. I’m sure he’ll be making witty jokes about it over drinks at this very table tomorrow night.” He screwed his eyes shut, squeezing outraged tears from them before turning his head back toward the window.

  She hadn’t moved her hand from his arm, and she didn’t intend to. “Sandler, we’ve known each other a little more than twenty-four hours. If you’re asking me whether everything’s going to turn out just peachy for Trevor, I will honestly tell you I have no way of knowing that. But hear me out,” she said, talking over the objection he was opening his mouth to make. “Hear me out. Trevor has been absolutely controlled by his parents since the accident. You didn’t even know whether he was alive or dead. But look who he has on his side now. Two police officers who have experience with rescuing gay people from horrible parents. Me, who knows more about the therapy that Rauthmann uses than just about anyone else on the continent. And most of all, you.”

  “Most of all me?” Sandler replied dismally. “Because what someone held captive by his parents really needs is a messenger. Right.”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “What Trevor needs is someone who loves him. And he has that and better, because the person who loved him more than anyone else in the world is here for him. His parents have confused love with control, but you—you knew him and loved him as he really was—as he really is. When he sees you, and sees you have come here to save him, his life will be transformed. Miraculously transformed. You have the chance to work a miracle in his life, Sandler. A miracle. That’s why you’re here. That’s why I’m here. That’s why Ethan and Gabriel are here. Saving Trevor is the reason we have all ended up here, through a series of unlikely events and even unlikelier coincidences. You have to see that. And that should give you hope.”

  “I thought you were a chemist—a scientist,” he said. “You can’t possibly believe that stuff about our being brought here for some kind of greater cosmic purpose. You sound like the lady who reads tarot cards outside the British embassy in Budapest.”

  Kerry laughed at the image, but then leaned closer over the table. “Do I believe that some divine hand guided us here? No. I believe we make our own destiny, and that’s what we’ve done.” She was warming to her subject now, speaking more forcefully with every sentence. “I hopped on this crazy train because I saw such goodness in Ethan that I had to help him if I could. I think you did the same with Gabriel. And they chose to come with you on this adventure because they believe they can—and should—help you. It’s not cosmic forces—it’s people. A group of people who made a series of well-intentioned choices, each one building on the last. Small choices that add up to a big insane plan, with the end result that we’re in fucking Geneva about to bust your first love out of that clinic of the damned.” She realized her voice had been climbing in volume, and she took a breath and sat back in her chair once again. “Luck didn’t bring us here, hon. We did. And we’re going to do what we came here to do.”

  Eyes wide, Sandler seemed unable to form words.

  She grinned bracingly. “That’s where hope comes from, doll. Not from wishing for something good to happen, but knowing that you are going to do everything you can to make it happen. And having friends who would rather pitch in with you, thick or thin, hell or high water, than be off in a castle getting ready for their own wedding. You should have hope because the three of us are in this with you, and we will be with you no matter what happens. So stop moping and start thinking about what you’re going to order to toast Trevor’s first night of freedom.”

  His mouth opened and closed, then opened again, but no words emerged. He swallowed hard, then looked back out the window for a long moment. “A week ago I was carrying a pouch for the millionth time and wondering what I should do with my life. I knew people all over the world but had no friends. Every man I’ve been with since Trevor has been a shadow of him, and I’ve made damn sure that not one of them has gotten anywhere near the heart I wrapped in barbed wire after I lost him. And now….” He sighed deeply and shook his head. “I just can’t believe I’m here.”

  “We’re here,” Kerry said, squeezing his arm again. “This is your adventure, big guy, but we will be with you every step of the way.” She cast her eyes upward. “Well, I will be, and once those two exhaust themselves, they will be too.”

  Sandler smiled. “Still not fair those two found each other and the rest of the world gets to struggle along with the leftovers.”

  Kerry raised her cup. “To the leftovers!” she cried merrily.

  Sandler raised his as well. “Some things are better the second time around.” A note of hope sounded in his voice for the first time.

  “Now we need to get a plan together,” she said once they had toasted. She pulled out her phone. “My friend in legal gave me some good background on Rauthmann and his fucked-up ‘therapy,’ but I don’t have much on this clinic he’s working out of. Did you find anything?”

  He nodded tentatively. “One of the lawyers I’ve worked for was able to find a case from several years ago when someone sued for malpractice, and I got some info from the lawyer who handled it.” He tapped and swi
ped at his phone for a few seconds. “He said it’s a kind of co-op place, where the individual doctors rent facilities and the use of some support staff, but they manage their own patients. There’s apparently a law that shields the owners of the clinic from liability if one of the doctors who uses it does something wrong, as long as they can show they didn’t know about it.”

  “So all we need to do is let them know what Rauthmann is up to, and they’ll throw him out?” Kerry asked.

  “I don’t think it’s that easy. We’d have to sue him and win before they’d be likely to do anything. In the case he told me about, the firm won their case, and the doctor who lost was basically thrown out. But until the verdict was reached, he was allowed to keep practicing there. So filing a lawsuit would help Trevor in a couple of years, not tomorrow.”

  “So what we need is to find some reason for the clinic to throw Rauthmann out immediately.”

  “How are we going to do that? He basically says on his website that he’s willing to completely fuck people up in order to make them straight, and they’re apparently okay with that. What could we tell them that would change their mind about him?”

  Kerry pursed her lips and mulled this over. “Maybe we don’t have to change their mind about Rauthmann. Maybe we need to make them think about the effect he could have on the reputation of their little clinic. But first we’d need to visit the man himself and get him to admit that he’s still using the protocol we think he is.” Her brow furrowed. “Though we couldn’t just walk into his office and demand that he give us the details. We may need to be a little… devious.”

  Sandler narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  “What I’m thinking is that if we stage a little drama, we can get him to give us what we need.” She looked at him with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “Too bad we don’t know anyone who dabbled in the dramatic arts… say, in high school?”

  “You’re scaring me with that wicked smile,” Sandler said suspiciously.