Never Let Me Go

by McAvoy, J. J. ;

  “Mr. Rhys-Gallagher,” the older woman said. “Edmund Enterprises oversaw more than a hundred department stores and hotels, closing half of them will—”

  “Look bad?” I finished. “Moreover, look worse for the governor, since he is running for re-election?”

  None of them spoke.

  “Seeing as all of you would rather bargain with governors for favors than do your jobs or use your heads, let me remind you why I’m closing forty-seven stores, twelve of them in this city alone. It was your choices that led to empty shelves, atrocious locations, and unexciting merchandise. There are videos on YouTube of employees skateboarding down aisles because there is nothing else to do. Keeping these stores may look nice, but I will not continue to pay for the failed experiment that is E&E. It will not only cost billions down the line but hurt the economy. Tell that to the governor when you go back to kiss his ass. My answer is ‘no'. Am I clear? Brilliant. Have a good day, ladies and gentlemen.” I ended the call.

  “Would you like me to call the governor’s office, sir?” Goldie asked, still on the line.

  I pulled off the tie I had put on for this meeting. “No, just ignore him for now.”

  “Like Mr. Sinclair?”

  “Goldie,” I groaned, not wanting to think of that old fool.

  “Mr. Rhys-Gallagher, please explain to me what happened with Mr. Sinclair?”

  I closed my eyes, rubbing my temples. “The deal with Sinclair is dead. I used to think he had good insight despite his flaws, but I no longer trust him nor wish to do business with him. It didn’t work with my father, and it won’t work for me. That is all I shall say on the matter.”

  “Of course, sir. Have a good day.” She hung up.

  I reached into the cabinet drawer for some aspirin.

  “You okay?” Luella asked. She was in shorts and an oversized white blouse.

  “Yes, just work.”

  She strolled over and sat on the desk, her bare feet swinging back and forth. “Do you like your work?”

  “Do I like it?” I repeated slowly, not sure how to answer.

  “I will take that as a ‘no'.”

  “Can’t I think?” I latched onto her leg.

  “No, because when you like what you do, when you love it, you don’t need to think about it. Even on bad or hard days, you still love everything.”

  “Do you love cooking?”

  “Yes. I love food. I’m secretly jealous of Anthony Bourdain. Actually, that’s a lie, I’m openly jealous of Anthony Bourdain. It would be amazing to travel around the world, tasting and learning about different cultures through the food they eat. In my dream life, that is what I would be doing.”

  “Your dream life?”

  “Everyone has one.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I call bullshit,” she said with the worst southern accident I’d ever heard, which was probably what made it so damn cute.

  “I really don’t have one—”

  She jumped off the desk and went around behind my chair, placing her hands over my eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Alaric asked.

  Her hands lifted and she signed, “We are looking for your dad’s dream.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Sure.” I held my arms open for him, and he ran toward me. “What do you want to do when you grow up, Alaric?”

  “I want to be a soccer player.” He even pretended to kick a ball.

  “Try speaking, Alaric,” I said.

  “I…I want to be a soccer player when I get older.”

  “When did that happen? I thought you wanted to be a pilot?” Luella asked him.

  He looked at her like he didn’t understand the question. “I’m going to do that on the weekends.”

  I felt the need to add a mental duh. It was funny and inspiring how kids believed they could do anything, and it made me wonder when we stopped believing. “Alaric just reminded me what my dream was.”

  “What?” He got excited. “Did you want to play soccer too?”

  “I wanted to be a photographer,” I confessed.

  “Really?” Luella leaned against the desk.

  “I loved taking photos, but my dad told me that wasn’t a real job, and I should forget about it.” And because I’d lived to please my father, I did. Almost completely.

  “You won’t tell me to forget about soccer?” Alaric asked.

  “Never. You’re going to beat even Lionel Messi.”

  He nodded proudly at himself, like he could already see it happening.

  “Who is Lionel Messi?”

  Alaric and I gasped at Luella’s ignorance.

  “Tell her, Alaric.”

  “He’s only the number one soccer player ever.” He threw his hands wider to show just how great he was.

  “I thought that was David Beckham?” she asked to his horror.

  Alaric slapped his forehead.

  “I know, what are we going to do with her?” I tried to be as serious as he was but I couldn’t, I was shaking with laughter.

  “Teach her.” He made a fist. “We are watching all the matches.”

  “Are we?” Luella crossed her arms.

  He gave her a look. “Please.”

  “After we get your school supplies. Which reminds me, why are we here to begin with? Do you want to come with us?”

  “Sure, but I’m driving this time.”

  “You make it sound like there’s something wrong with my driving.” Alaric and I headed for the foyer.

  “Well, Mommy—”

  I clasped a hand over his mouth.

  “Hey!” She chased after us.

  Who knew this would be my life?

  RAFAEL

  I stood outside the hospital room, staring at my family through the glass. If it hadn’t been for the news, I would never have heard my father had a heart attack. He’d always thought he was so tough, like nothing could hurt him. He needed to slow down, but Chief Gonzalo Morales always had to prove he could do it all. I took the fact that he was now being forced to relax for a while and seeing him play chess with my sister as proof that he was okay. Placing the flowers on the trolley outside his room, I turned to leave.

  “Rafael?”

  My grandmother appeared, hunched over a cane, a piece of chocolate in her hand, as always.

  “Abuela?” I whispered.

  She lifted the flowers I put down, waving it as if it were a bat. “Rafael Felipe Esteban Diego Alejandro Morales, after a year you can’t even hug me? Tú y tu padre son dos cabezas de cerdo. Lo menos que podrías haber hecho fue venir a mí. No tenía idea de dónde estabas o si estabas vivo. Oh, si supieras lo preocupado que estaba.” You and your father are two pig heads. The least you could have done was come to me. I had no idea where you were or if you were alive. Oh, if you only knew how worried I was.

  Before she finished ranting at me, I pulled her into my arms. I knew she was trying not to cry.

  “I was so worried about you, mi hijo.” My son.

  At least there was one person. “I’m all right, Abuela.”

  “It’s not about you, it’s about me.” She smacked my back.

  I laughed. Yeah, if there was anyone I could relate to, it was Abuela.

  She looked me over. “You’re too skinny.”

  “I’m fine, and you look fine too,” I added before she could hit me again.

  “Go. Let us see your father.”

  “You know as well as I do that he does not want to see me.” I stuck my hands in my pockets. “I’m a homosexual.”

  “Congratulations, now come.” She pulled me into the room.

  I really wished she hadn’t. I could handle watching them be happy without me. What sickened me was how cold and uncomfortable everything became when I stepped into the room, like I was death.

  “Get him out.” My father looked away.

  “Mi hijo—”

  “Madre, le quiero fuera. Go!” Mother, I want him out. He spat at my feet.

  “I’m gl
ad to see you’re still well enough to hate.” I smiled and avoided Abuela's reach when she tried to take my hand. Shaking my head, I moved to the door.

  “You think I want to hate my only son? You think I take pleasure in turning my back on you. I had so many dreams for you, so many high hopes—”

  “That was the problem,” I snapped. “Your dreams somehow meant more than mine. What you wanted was supposed to trump who I am. What I want. I’m sorry. I love myself too much to let you make my dreams for me. I love you, Papa. I always will, but nothing will change who I am.”

  “Rafael, you should go—”

  “Of course.” I cut my mother off before she could hurt me any more. My father yelled, and she always just looked away.

  “Bye, Paulina.” I waved to my baby sister, running away as fast as I could. I ended up in the stairwell. I screamed, smacking the wall until my hand burned. I finally just sat down.

  Pulling out my phone to call Goldie, I saw I’d missed a message from Dorian. What the hell have you done now? I played the voicemail.

  “Rafael, I am currently inside some store called Uncle Esteban Supplies because my son needs school supplies. I have no idea how the hell this became my life.” He sighed, but he sounded happy. “Anyway, I was getting lectured by Russell last night, and he brought you up. He told me you call your family every weekend, only to have your father insult you. I advise you to stop. I always sought my father’s approval too, and even now that he’s gone, part of me is always seeking his approval. Truth is, neither you nor I need that. You, Rafael—I would say your full name but it’s way too damn long—are a good person and good friend. The fact that the Chief can’t see that is his fault, not yours. We will talk more when I get back. Now delete this message, because I swear if it is—” Beep.

  I laughed. What did he do, go on a spiritual retreat? I reached up to wipe my eye, and my arm ached.

  “Ah shit.” I gasped at the redness of my hand. “Way to go, Rafael, you think you’re Superman now and can hit walls?”

  I’m losing it.

  I texted the only other person who’d understand how I felt. Talk me off the edge. I just visited my father in the hospital.

  Her reply was, “Ain’t life a bitch like that.”

  Oh God, thank you for my friends. They often make up for my family.

  16

  The Wrong People Around You

  LUELLA

  “Welcome back to Claymore Golf & Country Club, Mr. Rhys-Gallagher.” The woman behind the counter, dressed all in white, smiled at Dorian.

  He pulled out a white card and handed it to her. “Please add Luella and Alaric to the account. I also made reservations at the spa.”

  “The spa?” I faced him. “I thought we were here for golf?”

  “We are golfing.” He pointed at Alaric, who grinned. “Father-son bonding. You are going to the spa.”

  “Fine.” I kissed Alaric’s head. “Finnick doesn’t have to follow me. He can go with you.”

  Over the course of the week, Finnick had been our constant shadow. He was now our driver, the head of household security, and our personal bodyguard. I wondered when the man slept. I was grateful for his vigilance, but you would think we were royalty or rock stars.

  Eva appeared in bell-bottomed jeans, a red blouse, and a sun hat, and Alaric gave her a hug.

  “Oh, you’ve gotten so big,” she signed and messed up his hair.

  “It’s only been a few days.” I gazed at her affectionately. “But we have missed you.”

  “As you both should,” she huffed. “Go have fun at golf, and when I say ‘fun’, I mean win.”

  “Hey, winning isn’t everything.” I smiled. “Just do your best.”

  “And win,” Eva added, and I elbowed her.

  “Okay, we’re leaving. We will see you ladies later,” Dorian said.

  Alaric waved, then fixed his visor and went with Dorian to the golf course. I noticed that alone with Dorian, he was talking less with his hands and more with his mouth.

  “He’s talking with his voice.” Eva’s eyes went wide.

  “He asked Dorian to help him speak better because he was being bullied at school for how his voice sounded, and he didn’t want me to be worried about it.”

  “He’s being bullied?” She spoke with just as much anger as I felt.

  “I couldn’t believe it either—”

  “Mrs. Rhys-Gallagher.” The woman behind the corner waved at me.

  I shook my head. “We aren’t married. Just Thorne. Luella Thorne.”

  Her mouth made an ‘O’ as she slid over keys. “These are for your lockers, where you can keep your personal things and change into a robe.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Mrs. Rhys-Gallagher?” Eva gave me a look when I handed her a key.

  “It was an innocent mistake.”

  “And you liked that she made it, because it means she thought you looked like one big happy family.”

  When we walked into the locker room, it looked more like a suite in Buckingham palace. “Is that a bad thing?” I muttered, opening the locker. “It feels nice. This feels nice. Him, me, Alaric. This week has been so perfect. Even when it wasn’t, it was still amazing.”

  “I’m happy for you.” She hugged me. “I really am. But again, do you see him as Dorian, or do you see him as Donovan? How can you fully heal or move on if all you see is Don every day?”

  “No matter what happens, I will never not see him. All I have to do is look at Alaric’s face. So why should that be one of my reasons to walk away? He likes having us. We like having him. Can’t we just do what we like?”

  She sighed and agreed. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up and pour everything you have into this. You just got out from under one person. Don’t go running to another. Don’t trust him so completely, you don’t know him well enough yet. I’ve heard that he’s ruthless in business and even worse with the companies he takes over. They call him Dorian ‘the Butcher' Rhys-Gallagher.”

  She was just trying to protect me. Eva didn’t trust men, and I couldn’t blame her. Normally I didn’t trust them either, but Dorian made me feel so comfortable at all times. He was different. Simple in a way. He was clear about what he wanted and how he felt. Part of me already knew he would always tell me the truth. Dorian ‘the Butcher’ Rhys-Gallagher was who he became when he put on a suit. It wasn’t him all the time. Just like when I was an escort. He was doing a job. An honest job.

  “I trust him, Eva. For mine and Alaric’s sake, please give him a chance?” I didn’t want her to be against him.

  She pulled her hair up. “Fine…I will try.”

  “Thank you. Now let’s take a mud bath. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

  “After you, Mrs. Rhys-Gallagher.” I glared. “I’m just practicing.”

  DORIAN

  I showed Alaric how to grip the golf club correctly.

  “I hit it hard?” he asked, excited to swing.

  “It’s not about how hard you hit it. It is about your form.”

  His head tilted. “Form?”

  “Do you remember how other golfers stand?”

  He thought for a moment and then moved closer to the ball, lifting his feet for no reason up and down beside the ball. “They do this.”

  “They do, but it’s just to make sure they are level. Each time you are about to swing, stand like this—”

  “Well lookie here.”

  I glanced up to see none other than Sinclair and his daughter, Portia.

  “What a surprise.” She grinned. “Who is this little guy?”

  Alaric turned his head to see what had gotten my attention.

  “Alaric. My son,” I said and signed. “Alaric say hello.”

  He signed hi, then asked me, “Are they playing too?”

  “No. Mr. Sinclair and his family are just passing through.” I glared at the older man. “Keep working on your form.”

  “Let’s play together.” Portia said to A
laric, even though no one asked for her help or company.

  Mr. Sinclair spoke. “I heard you are no longer interested in the Sinclair Group.”

  “Does it upset you to no longer have something to hold over my head?” I asked.

  He snickered, turning away from Alaric and Portia. “Why? Because Hugh got a little physical with your son’s mother? Oh, you thought I didn’t know? First rule of business: know everything about your friends and even more about your enemies. You did a pretty good number on Hugh though. Portia thinks he’s away, running an errand for me.”

  “How is it you can still look at that filth—”

  “Don’t be stupid, Dorian. You are the best suited for the Sinclair Group. You’re young, bright, driven, I used to think you might be too uptight. But recent events have shown you aren’t the stick in the mud you portray yourself to be. The only reason I haven’t given the company to you is because I’ve seen your family make one too many foolish mistakes. You managed to overcome all of that, only to have this random nobody woman destroy you.”

  “If one woman can destroy me, then I have no business running anything,” I countered.

  “How noble.” He flicked nonexistent lint off his shirt. “But she doesn’t know how our world works. You heard her at dinner. Her bleeding heart will stop you from being the cutthroat filthy son of a bitch you need to be in order to lead. You’ve surpassed your father in ways he wouldn’t have dreamed of. You can dress this woman up and make her look the part, but at the end of the day, she is not worth it. Give her money. Send her to Boston, Chicago, L.A.—better yet, send her overseas. Marry an educated, beautiful young woman who will be okay with you bringing your son over for the holidays.”

  He gestured at his daughter, who was attempting to communicate with Alaric. For some reason, my father came to mind, and I needed to know what had really happened back then.

  “Why did you and my father fall out?”

  “It doesn’t matter—”

  “It does. What happened?”

  He frowned, the wrinkles on his face clear. “Your father turned down the biggest mergers of our careers, not even speaking to me about it. And he did it because your mother was a bleeding heart. She came from the same small town where our factories were located. She knew the people and begged your father. We lost millions, and two years later, the factory had to close down anyway. The reason we marry people like us is because they understand money comes from making the right choices, regardless of anyone else. Do you think just anyone can live like we do? The world is at our fingertips because we know the truth. You can’t save everyone, so save yourself. Why do you think these country clubs exist? If we wanted to, we could have any damn thing we want sent to us. But no, we all come here. We climb the food chain. We trade and make deals, and we do better for ourselves. You are the very best of your family. Don’t repeat the same mistakes your father made. You think Portia didn’t know Hugh was messing around? She knew. All the wives know. But again, to live this life, you have to turn a blind eye. She’d look away for you—”