“‘Aligning himself.’ Well, that’s a new one to me. I’ll have to remember that. That has to be one of the most elegant disowning-the-son speeches I’ve ever heard too, by the way.”
Evans had grown up since they’d last met. Tougher than Donald had remembered. Less vulnerable. Definitely not as easily manipulated. Maybe it was the lack of shaggy, blond curls, or because chronic pain had etched lines into his face. Donald didn’t want to think about that. Evans had been amply compensated for his losses. He took a steadying sip of Scotch. Disowning. It was such a cold, harsh word. For the first time he realized that was exactly what he’d just done. When the alcohol hit his stomach, he felt nauseated. Swallowing back bile, he said, “You can stop this. If you leave now, I will continue to finance Jake in his eventing career. He’ll get his shot at gold, the one thing he’s always wanted. But not if you ruin his life.”
“Pardon me for stating the obvious here, but it seems to me your son is already packing, with or without me. I’m not sure you can put this particular genie back in the bottle. Anyway, I don’t think your little puppet-master routine will work this time.” Evans raised one hand to waggle his fingers up and down in an approximation of a puppeteer moving a marionette. “Jake knows you were behind me kicking him out before. He’ll know you made my leaving part of any deal to continue supporting him now. Maybe it’s time he tried to make it on his own anyway. The timing could be better, but he’s tough. He’ll get by. I’m not going to try and stop him. Let him make up his own mind. It’s his life, you know.”
Donald set the glass down so hard that Scotch slopped over the lip and splashed on the smooth surface of the desk. It would mar the wood if he didn’t wipe it up, but he didn’t care. “So I’m supposed to stand by and watch him destroy it? I only want what’s best for my son. If you cared about him the way you claim, you would get out of his life, and you know it. Can you honestly tell me that the gay lifestyle—” he paused to curl his lip“—could possibly be better for Jake? Healthier? Safer? I think not.”
“It’s not a lifestyle. You make it sound as though there’s a choice.” Richard gave a little snort. “Right. Because galloping a half ton of horseflesh over fences is such a healthy occupation in the first place. As for the lifestyle”—Evans’s emphasis on the word grated— “all I see are two people who care about each other very much. Would you rather see him out clubbing? Meeting a stranger through the Internet? Paying for sex? Because without someone in his life, that’s next.”
“Jake never had these… these feelings for men before you arrived on the scene.” Donald’s anger surged up out of him, dark and livid. Blood rushed through his veins so loudly it made his ears ring, and black spots developed in his vision. Nostrils flaring, he made himself take a sip from the drink he no longer wanted, just to force himself to calm down.
To his surprise, the look on Evans’s face was one of pity. How dare he show pity?
“How would you know what Jake feels?” Evans’s question was quiet, but it somehow stung Donald like the strike of a riding crop on bare skin. “Did you ever ask? Can you honestly tell me that he was serious about anyone before I came along?”
“Jake has always been very private about his relationships.” Donald tried to freeze out this line of questioning, disturbed that Jake had asked him almost the very same thing. Evans seemed oblivious to his hints that this was an inappropriate topic. He should have known better than to expect common decency from someone of Evans’s upbringing.
Evans merely shook his head. “If there’d been anyone in his life for more than a matter of weeks, you’d have known about it. I know you guys aren’t all that close”—Evans shot him an oddly apologetic glance—“but if there’s an important person in your life, you talk about them. You can’t help it. You bring them up in conversation because they’re nearly always on your mind. Jake never had a serious relationship before me. That should have clued you in right there. Your son is fucking gorgeous. Not to mention funny, and smart, and caring. If he’d been straight, he’d have been snapped up long ago. He’s single because he didn’t know how to be gay and your son at the same time.”
Donald winced at the crudity of the language, but something inside him stirred restlessly at the passion behind Evans’s words. Everyone deserved to be loved like that. Jake deserved to be loved like that. If only Evans wasn’t a goddamned man.
“Can you honestly tell me you think being in a committed relationship is worse than being alone? That it’s unhealthy because we’re both guys?”
“Yes, I can when the relationship flies in the face of all that I hold to be right and natural. When it is condemned by society and the Church alike. Jake was doing just fine without you. He had his horses and his goals. He didn’t need anything else.”
Evans, however, was looking at him with the expression of someone for whom a light was slowly turning on. His mouth had dropped open, and his brows, first pulling together with a frown, now lifted in astonishment.
“Wait, wait,” he said, one hand vibrating rapidly in a gesture for Donald to stop speaking. “Are you telling me there’s been no one since me, either?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Really, the man had no right to look as though Donald had just handed him a present.
“I’m sorry,” Evans went on, still wearing a ridiculous grin. “You were saying?”
“I was saying,” Donald spoke with emphasis, “that you have the power to protect Jake from the stigma that goes with this life—with being gay. By leaving.”
Evans’s mouth twisted into a pretense of regret, his former smile still lurking around the corners. “Sorry. I don’t think that ship will sail.”
“I won’t pay you any more, you know.” By God, this gold-digging faggot and his family had gotten the last dime from him.
“This isn’t about you paying my medical bills. I know we had a deal on that, but at the time, I thought it was the best choice for Jake as well. I’m not so sure that was the right call anymore, but that’s neither here nor there.”
“You told him.” Donald tasted bile again. How Evans could stand there, twisted to one side as he leaned on his cane, and look as though he was in complete charge of this conversation was a mystery to Donald. He was a broken man. Why didn’t he act like one?
“Your phone call brought things to a head. I wouldn’t have said a word to him otherwise.” Evans held his gaze steadily and Donald was surprised to feel guilt licking at the edges of his old decision. What did he have to feel guilty about? Evans had been taken care of, and Donald had saved his son from an embarrassing and potentially damaging entanglement. If anyone should feel guilty, it was Evans, for taking his money and not honoring his part of the bargain. For endangering Jake again.
“I don’t want any of your money. Any more of it, that is,” Evans amended hastily. “I was in a bad spot and I don’t know how I would have gotten out of it without your money back then, but I intend to pay you back. I don’t know how, but you have my word on that.”
“Your word.” Donald infused his sentence with sneering disbelief and was pleased when Evans’s face, ever expressive, darkened. “We know how much we can trust you on that. You gave me your word you’d never have contact with Jake again.” He was pleased to see he’d scored at last.
“I owed Tom. He asked for my help, and I gave it to him. I don’t expect you can understand that kind of loyalty. Whether you believe me or not, I was keeping my distance, that is, until your phone call. How much?” Evans asked, his lips thinning in a tight line of anger as he obviously bit back other words on the subject.
“How much?” Donald was momentarily blank until he understood the change in subject. “Ah, for your medical expenses as well as your therapy? I don’t have the exact figures in front of me, but the totals came to well over three hundred and sixty thousand.”
Evans’s eyebrows rose, and he felt a nasty little burst of satisfaction as Evans realized to what degree he was indebted. “Of course, that doesn’
t include the five thousand dollar stipend for living expenses until you could get back on your feet again.” He’d been surprised at how little that amount had been. Whatever else Richard Evans had been at the time, he’d been no spendthrift. Hell, Donald spent more than that for a couple of tailored suits. At least half of Evans’s medical bills had been recouped by the lawsuit against the driver’s estate. It had been a small price to pay to rid Jake of Rich Evans.
Donald had gotten Evans to sign papers allowing Donald to act on his behalf regarding the bills. Too bad Donald hadn’t drawn up an agreement regarding the conditions of the payments as well. The idea of putting his proposed actions, even though he’d suggested them with the best of intentions, into a legal format had caused him to balk at the last second. On paper, it had seemed such a callous disregard for what he knew Jake wanted. Nettled with his unexpected conflicted emotions, he returned to a tangible target for his anger. Let Evans think he still owed the full amount. He had to add a final dig. “Nor does it include the additional twenty thousand your mother requested.”
“My what?” The shock and incredulity on Evans’s face couldn’t have been faked.
“Your mother,” Donald said slowly, watching Evans’s expression with interest now. He gave a mental shudder at the memory of the woman, her blonde hair teased and sprayed into ridiculous height, sitting with a falsely sanctimonious smile on her face while she demanded more money for her son’s recovery in the name of Christian charity. The veiled threats that she would go public with the relationship between their sons had repulsed him, and he’d made his feelings for her known as he’d written the check. He’d also made it clear that if she came back for more, he’d have her arrested for blackmail. He’d accepted the devil’s bargain to get her out of his life with a minimum of fuss. She’d seemed to have taken the hint. It would appear now Evans hadn’t known of that meeting, and probably never saw any of the money, either.
Evans’s jaw worked as he breathed heavily through his nose, looking like a bull behind a gate leading into the rodeo arena. He pulled a checkbook out of his back pocket and slapped it down on the desktop. He hooked his cane over his left wrist and held out his hand with the snappy precision of a surgeon waiting for a surgical instrument. “Pen,” he said sharply.
Curious despite himself, Donald reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his favorite silver pen. He twisted the barrel open and handed it to Evans with bemusement. Evans took it without looking at it and scribbled out a check. When he was done writing, he rolled the pen between his fingers several times before handing it back. “Nice pen. Smooth.” His voice was clipped as he tore out the check and presented it to Donald.
“It should be, given the price,” Donald said dryly. Tibaldi charged a pretty penny for their executive pens. Tucking the pen back inside his jacket, he idly noted that the force with which Evans had written the check had almost torn the paper. He folded the check and placed it in his pocket.
“That’s for my mother’s demands. I’ll get the rest to you somehow. In the meantime, I have a proposition for you.”
Donald flattened his lips, noting Evans was echoing his own words from the time of the accident. He had a brief flashback to the sight of Evans lying in his hospital bed, eyes blackened and swollen shut, his lip split, his face battered almost beyond recognition. He’d had an IV line and a morphine pump connected to his arms, and an ugly set of pins attached to metal clamps coming out of his leg. It had been a bad fracture, he recalled. One of several. Perhaps he had taken advantage of Evans’s condition at the time, but he’d seen an opening and he’d taken it. It was an odd feeling to have his same words tossed back at him now, and the look in Evans’s eyes told him it was deliberate.
“Yes?” Donald raised one eyebrow inquiringly, as though bored.
To his utter surprise, Evans seemed amused by him. “We both want what’s best for Jake. You and I know that moving the training setup to my place now, right before the Games, will be disastrous to his concentration. Things are going to be hard enough as it is, and he has no guarantee of making the final cut, let alone winning, mind you.” Evans’s voice became stern, and Donald wondered who he was actually reminding of this fact. “But you stay out of it for now, and let Jake make his own choices here. At least until after the Games.” He held up a hand when Donald would have spoken. “In the meantime, I will see that your son makes it to Rio, barring the usual unforeseen things that happen to horses, like lameness and colic. I’ll see that he gets his shot at the gold medal. We won’t go public with our relationship, and I won’t tell the world that you tried to buy me off.”
Donald sucked in his breath sharply, but Evans wasn’t finished. “In return, I’ll try to help you fix what’s wrong between you and Jake.”
His mouth gaped open, and he shut it with a snap. Evans was still talking, however. “I thought I was the problem—that your disapproval of me was what was keeping you and Jake apart, but it goes deeper than that, doesn’t it?”
Outrage at Evans’s audacity waged war with the knowledge that he was right. “That’s none of your concern.” What could Evans possibly know about his relationship with Jake? How dare he insinuate it wasn’t healthy, or that Evans could make it better?
“But it is my concern,” Evans said. “What makes Jake unhappy directly affects me, especially now, in the run-up to the Games. Besides, you should see his face when he talks about you. He thinks you only care about what kind of image he presents to your voting public.”
His words were like a sucker punch to the gut.
“He doesn’t think much of me, does he?” Donald surprised himself by asking.
That look of pity flashed in Evans’s eyes. “I get the sense things have been strained between you for some time, but right now, he’d pretty pissed about the whole ‘paying me to break up with him’ thing.”
“He was never supposed to find out about that,” Donald said with some heat, remembering anew the bargain Evans had failed to keep.
“He was halfway to figuring it out on his own. He’s not dumb, you know, just… sheltered.”
“Of course he’s not dumb,” Donald snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose briefly and sighed. “After his mother died, I had a hard time connecting with him. It was like someone turned out a light. Admittedly, I was struggling myself, but Jake stopped smiling, stopped caring about anything. He spent hours playing video games at the D.C. apartment. The only time he showed any interest in life was when we came down to Foxden. I could hardly bear to be here, but it was everything to Jake. Just like that, he told me he wasn’t going back to private school, and that he was going to stay here and ride the horses. If I went back to the city without him, it was no big deal.”
“He was what—ten? Eleven? And you let him decide.”
“You had to have been there.” By the time Donald had come out of his dark depression in the years after Darcy’s death, Jake had been a teenager well on his way to a future at the Olympics. It seemed easier just to sign the checks.
“That was then, this is now. So, deal or no deal?” Evans looked as though he held all the cards, with a bright gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his face, damn him.
“If you gave a rat’s ass about what was best for Jake, you’d walk out of here right now. You’re ruining his life.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not the one pulling the rug out from under him because I want him to be something he’s not.”
“I have every right to protect my son from disastrous mistakes. If it takes withholding money to make him choose wisely, I’m within my rights.”
“Yes. Yes, you do.” Evans spoke quietly, thoughtfully, almost to himself. “But you shouldn’t be surprised when he rejects the price tag that comes with your acceptance of him.” He shook his head as though clearing it. When he spoke again, his voice was cool and collected. “Right, then. Deal or no deal?”
The offer lay between them. Donald was conscious of the irony of the moment. He was a
maker of deals; he spent every day negotiating with people, persuading them that the lesser of two evils was something they actually wanted. Now this jumped-up horse trainer had somehow figured out what his weaknesses were and he was the one being played for a change. Jake would take Donald at his word, pack up his things, and move in with Rich—which was the last thing he wanted—if Donald didn’t compromise here. The rupture between them would be nearly impossible to repair, and the news outlets would have a field day over it.
“Do I have any choice?” Donald asked sourly. “Just so you know, I don’t like you, Evans. I never have.”
“Aw, give me some time.” Evans smiled nastily at him. “Once you get to know me better, I’m sure you’ll loathe me.”
He didn’t quite snort at Evans’s flippancy. If nothing else, the man had balls. The unfortunate imagery that went with this causal, business-related compliment made heat flood into his face. “I don’t suppose I can persuade you not to actually sleep with my son in the meantime?”
“Fuck, no.” Evans laughed, and Donald winced at his coarseness.
“Just think,” Evans said, his expression as sly as a fox, “none of this would have happened if the Affordable Care Act had existed at the time of the accident. At least Tom won’t have to worry about preexisting conditions when he applies for new health care coverage. I’m assuming you’ll liquidate the farm and the horses?”
The little weasel must have been following the news. Evans had to have known that as part of his political ambitions, Donald had been vocal about overturning Obamacare. How would it look now if Tom was forced to find new coverage in the middle of his chemotherapy?
“All right, Evans. You win this round.” The smug look on Evans’s face indicated that no matter how well he’d handled himself this time, it was still a new game to him. He gave too much away. “Whatever we agree upon here will only hold true until after Rio. Don’t think by forcing me to accept everything on your terms now that I’ll miraculously welcome you into the family once the eventing medals have been handed out.”
Fool's Gold Page 19
