by DJ Jamison
This was proof, wasn’t it, that his father was all empty words and broken promises.
Still, he had to try. If not for his sake, then for all the people who would be affected by this discriminatory bullshit legislation.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“I’m sorry to put this on you,” Gil said regretfully. “If I thought I could influence him at all…”
“I get it,” Avery said. Gil was too timid to take on a man like Drake Kinkaid. He was smart as hell and had a great analytical mind, but Avery’s father had a presence to him, a power that boomed in his voice and made people want to do his bidding. That’s what made him such a successful businessman.
Avery wouldn’t go so far as to say it made his father a good politician. It did make him a formidable one, though.
Ending the call, Avery pushed back from his desk and paced to the large window that overlooked downtown Bell Harbor, Maine. It was a quaint, touristy town on the coast of Maine—not one with high-rises or the fast, cut-throat pace of New York. It was full of wealthy men, however, and the Kinkaid family kept their banking headquarters there.
From the third floor of the historic building, the original Kinkaid Bank of Maine, Avery could see the expansive homes on the coastline—including the one he still shared with his father—and the sparkling, navy blue water beyond. The sun was high in the sky, its rays refracting brilliant light off the water.
Avery wished he could go there and soak in the peace the ocean gave him, rather than confront the man in the next office. Sucking in a bracing breath, he squared his shoulders and forced his legs to carry him across the plush carpeting, to the hallway, and right up to Drake Kinkaid’s door.
Frosted glass was etched with the words, Drake Kinkaid, President.
His father was president in name only, especially during a legislative session, but Avery had seen him arrive just an hour ago, talking loudly on his cell phone and giving Avery only the most distracted of nods. It was Friday afternoon, and Avery suspected the legislators had started their weekend early. They weren’t the most dedicated of workers.
Avery rapped on the door. After a moment, his father called out, “Come in.”
When Avery stepped inside, his father barely glanced up at him as he packed up his briefcase. “Well, what is it?”
Now that he was standing before his father, he wondered how to broach the subject without getting Gil into trouble. “I was just reading up on the latest legislation.”
“Uh-hmm,” his father hummed noncommittally, more focused on powering down his computer than he was on Avery.
“SB 371,” Avery said. “I’m surprised you’re supporting it.”
His father blinked. “SB 371… that’s the bipartisan proposal for expanded state funding for child placement and planning agencies, isn’t it? Too many kids falling through the cracks. Underpaid case managers and short-staffed agencies. That’s a cause all parties can get behind, huh?”
“It looks that way on the surface,” Avery said. “Until you get to the discrimination.”
His father smiled crookedly, looking befuddled. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Avery was familiar with this tactic: the ole Kinkaid charm, people liked to call it. Avery looked a lot like his father. Drake Kinkaid stood over six feet tall with steel gray hair that had once been as golden as Avery’s was now and icy blue eyes. His father knew how to work a room, and he’d worked Avery on more than one occasion, but not this time.
“Those paragraphs about allowing agencies to operate according to their own beliefs, without government interference. That’s just another one of those loopholes to allow adoption agencies to shut out queer couples.”
His father frowned. “Avery, it doesn’t say that.”
“It doesn’t have to say it. That’s what will happen. You know that.”
“It’s pretty rare to get Democrats and Republicans to work together. Compromises have to be made. Sometimes, lofty principles have to be lowered a smidge.”
What few principles remained among politicians, Avery thought cynically. He wasn’t sure his father actually believed in anything beyond winning the next election.
“It doesn’t bother you that this could directly affect me?”
“I don’t see how.”
Avery lowered his voice. “I’m gay, remember? I’ve kept it quiet at your request, but I didn’t expect you to forget.”
“I didn’t forget. Shut the door.”
Avery begrudgingly closed the door. Once again, the senator’s priority was keeping his son in the closet, he thought bitterly. He’d always believed, before coming out, that the worst thing that could happen would be for his father to not accept him. That was probably still true, but this was a close second. His father loving him, but not quite enough to let Avery live his life as an openly gay man. Not enough to risk his re-election in a conservative district.
Once Avery closed the door, his father sighed. “I would never try to hurt you; don’t you know that?”
“It hurts all LGBTQ people because it’s discriminatory. And once legislation like that gets through, it opens the door for more.”
“It won’t hurt you. No one knows about you,” his father said,
“Seriously, Dad? Don’t you think I want to live my life openly? Have a husband and a family one day?”
His father looked taken aback. “Son, I appreciate you’ve put your interests aside in the name of the greater good...”
“This is not the greater good.”
The senator’s chin jutted out. He was irritated now. “Nothing gets done without compromise. We spend half our time gridlocked, and forty percent of our time writing legislation that goes nowhere, but this bill has a real chance. The State House is working on a similar piece of legislation. Finally, something is getting done!”
“That’s what scares me.”
“What do you want me to say, Avery? If you had a fiancé waiting in the wings, it’d be different. I’d support you coming out then. But there’s no reason to risk my career, or your future in politics, so you can announce your private business.” He gave an annoyed chuckle. “It’s not as if you’re anywhere near fatherhood. Let’s not kid ourselves.”
“Just pull your support of the bill at least. Please.”
“Sorry, but I can’t. You know how it goes. I’ve got favors to repay.” His father glanced down at his Apple Watch. “And now, I’ve really got to get going. I’ve got dinner reservations at Scotch House.”
A date or a schmooze fest with assholes who would support his father’s legislation? It hardly mattered.
He came around the desk and patted Avery’s arm. “I love you son, no matter what. Rest assured, this bill isn’t going to hurt you. And, eventually, the time will be right for you to come out. For now, we have to play the game.”
As Avery watched his father walk out the door, he hated him a little. He painted Avery’s wish to be open and honest—and yes, free to date or fall in love—as something frivolous. Avery was putting aside his “interests” for the “greater good.”
Avery knew enough about politics to know that the greater good was a fantasy. Nothing came without strings, not even a bill that could have done some good.
Heck, his own father’s love came with strings.
If you had a fiancé waiting in the wings, it’d be different. I’d support you coming out then.
Avery returned to his office, moody and unsettled. Pulling out his phone, he texted Gil.
Up for drinks tonight? I need to disappear into a shot glass or twenty.
Gil’s response came quickly. Went that well, huh? You know I’ll be there. Brickhouse?
Brickhouse, Avery confirmed.
Rory hustled into the bar and grill where Lana Porter waitressed, checking his phone for the time. He was running late, caught up in running down one of the leads he’d gotten at the gala, for all the good it would do him. He’d made a handful of contacts, but only one solid one.
&nbs
p; There’s always Avery…
He shied from the thought. He would call Avery. He wouldn’t have much choice, given the situation he found himself in. But not yet. First, he needed to forget how much that charming smile affected him.
He just hoped Avery wasn’t jerking him around about making a contribution. Equal Justice needed the funding to help people like Lana.
The sign at the front of the restaurant said he could seat himself, so Rory found an empty booth and slid into it. He dressed more casually for a day at the office than the gala, so he wore jeans with a dark blue T-shirt and a blazer. He slid off the jacket once he was seated. He found that most of the clients he worked with felt more comfortable talking to someone more casually dressed, someone who didn’t seem rich and privileged. They’d get enough of that from the lawyers they were eventually assigned. Rory’s job was essentially to get their story, which he fact-checked later, and to reassure them someone was in their corner.
This was why he did this job. Not fundraising. No, he fundraised, despite hating it—all so that he could sit down with scared, skittish women like Lana, who wanted to fight but didn’t quite know how.
A server approached. “Hi, do you know what you’d like to drink?”
Rory checked her name tag.
“Lana, I’m Rory Fisher,” he said, extending his hand. “We spoke on the phone about meeting at the end of your shift.”
Lana was a brunette with a short pixie hairstyle and heart-shaped face. She smiled nervously, shaking his hand. “Rory, yes, thank you so much for coming out here. The car’s been acting up, and Keena is with the kids.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Rory said.
She hesitated. “I’m still on the clock for another fifteen minutes.”
“I needed to get a bite to eat anyway,” Rory said smoothly.
“The kitchen’s not too busy,” she said. “I’ll get an order in for you, and then we can talk when my shift ends?”
“Sounds good,” he said. “What’s good here?”
She smiled. “Oh, the surf and turf is real nice, but I love the Cajun pasta myself. Guess I’m a sucker for carbs.”
“That does sound good. I’ll take the pasta and a side salad. Water to drink.”
“Okay, got it.”
She started to tuck away her order pad.
“And Lana?”
“Yes?”
“Order something for yourself if you haven’t eaten. It may take a while to go over all the details.”
Avery spun a coaster, his food mostly uneaten in front of him. He usually loved the wings at Brickhouse, but he was too disgusted to have an appetite. The conversation with his father continued to replay in his head, a broken record he couldn’t turn off, and each time it did, he felt more powerless.
He was twenty-eight years old, and he still lived with his father, worked for his father, cowed to his father’s demands. He’d come home after business school, thinking things would be different now that he was an adult. Unwittingly, he’d set himself up to be locked back into the closet. He wasn’t sure how to change his circumstances now. He ran the bank in all but name, but his father had all the power. If Avery broke free, he’d have to break free completely. New job, new home. It was daunting.
But not impossible. You have a business degree and experience managing a banking company, not to mention the Kinkaid name.
“Can I get you another?”
The server had appeared beside him. “Yup,” Avery answered without hesitation.
“And you, sir?”
Gil, seated across from him, was still nursing his first beer. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Once they were alone again, Gil eyed Avery critically. “You can’t drink away reality.”
“I can try,” Avery said cheerfully.
He had a nice buzz going, and he was aiming for blitzed. He didn’t even care it was a Wednesday night and he had work in the morning. He was a fucking Kinkaid. They’d manage without him while he nursed a hangover.
His father’s words had made him feel so shitty he might as well have physical pain to go along with the emotional.
Gil sighed. “Are you going to tell me what he said to you?”
Avery had arrived in a foul mood, but fortunately Gil had known him long enough to weather his black moods without blinking. When Avery got angry, he often went silent. He brooded. Internally, his brain was noisy, spinning with too many thoughts and recriminations for him to put into words.
“He’s not pulling his support for the bill.”
“I figured that much.”
Gil reached across the table, snagging one of Avery’s wings and nibbling at it. He was so meticulous sometimes that it made Avery smile, even when he felt like crap. If only he could have fallen for Gil, life might have been easier. He could have a boyfriend, get laid regularly, and he could throw his father’s words back in his face.
If you had a fiancé in the wings, it’d be different.
It’s not as if you’re anywhere near fatherhood. Let’s not kid ourselves.
I appreciate you’ve put your interests aside in the name of the greater good...
Avery snorted. “Apparently me being in the closet is for the greater good, and since no one knows I’m a fa—”
“Avery!” Gil cut in sharply before he could finish the slur. “You know I hate that word.”
Avery winced. “Sorry.”
When he was angry like this, he was his own worst enemy. All the ugly words that he’d ever heard thrown around by bigots surfaced, attaching themselves to him like a fungus. It was all self-directed, though. He would never want to hurt Gil. He was his best friend. Sadly, that’s all he could ever be because they’d never felt any kind of chemistry. But even if they had, Gil was openly bisexual, and Avery’s father had told him bluntly that he would only hire Gil if he had assurances there wasn’t a sexual relationship between them.
Avery had seen the writing on the wall then, but he’d reasoned that his father didn’t want to be seen as giving preferential treatment to his son’s boyfriend. He didn’t mind having an LGBTQ individual on his staff, oddly enough, so why was it so hard to admit he had one as a son? He blamed it on his politics, but Avery thought it must run deeper than that. There were queer individuals in Congress, for goodness’ sake. A gay man had run for president of the United States.
When Avery had pointed it out to his father, he’d said, “He won’t win. And even if people seem accepting, he’s not dealing with the Maine Legislature. Trust me, son. I know what I’m about. We have to work within our own unique political landscape.”
Frustratingly, Maine had been fairly liberal while Avery was in high school. But living in Bell Harbor, they were in a conservative district. And more recently, the power had begun to shift to the right. His father played both sides as an independent, but Avery thought his heart secretly laid with conservative Republicans. Which was troubling, to say the least.
“Maybe you should eat.” Gil nudged his plate toward him. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”
“And I’m going to keep drinking,” Avery said with a grin. “I plan to regret my life choices tomorrow morning.”
He’d started the evening with a couple of shots before switching to beer. He fully knew he was being irresponsible. He just didn’t care.
“Why do you always do this to yourself?” Gil asked, sounding suddenly angry. It took Avery by surprise. Gil knew him so well, he usually just dealt with Avery’s destructive spiral with a look of regret. “You give him too much power over you. If you want things to change, you have to do something.”
“He’s always going to have a reason it’s bad timing for me to come out.”
“Yes, he is,” Gil said more gently.
“He’s so determined to see me go into politics. Maybe so he can keep me in the closet forever.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Gil said, not sounding as if he expected a real answer. They’d had this circular conversation off and
on for years. Avery knew that Gil wanted him to tell his father he was coming out, in no uncertain terms. He didn’t understand the manipulative powers Drake Kinkaid possessed. Or maybe he did, now that he worked for him. Avery had never been able to out-argue his father. Each time he tried, he found himself carefully repositioned, as if a piece on a chess board, until he was agreeing to his father’s terms.
“I don’t know what do,” Avery said. “I’ve tried to be patient, but he always talks me out of coming out. I think I’ve got my mind made up, and he somehow convinces me to keep waiting. I hate that I’m so damn weak.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Your dad is a politician. He persuades people for a living.”
“He’s always got a loophole,” Avery grumbled. “Like today. He said, it’d be different if—”
He stopped short, eyes locked on a man who walked past their table toward the bathrooms. Something about the shape of him and the way he moved—long legs, slim hips, smooth stride—reminded him of Rory.
He couldn’t see his face, but his hair was the right color. It was gathered in a knot at his neck instead of loose, so it was tough to gauge exact length, but damn, that ass. Was it possible to recognize a guy by his ass?
“Avery?”
He blinked and looked back toward Gil. “Hmm?”
“You were saying that your father said it’d be different if…?”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat, trying to shake the vision of Rory and the niggling feeling that he should go talk to him. It felt significant that he was here tonight, if he was here. Avery wouldn’t put it past himself to imagine things. Rory had been on his mind a lot since the gala.
“My father said it’d be different if I was engaged. That he’d support me then.” His gaze drifted back to the bathrooms, watching as Rory emerged. He was sure it was him now. He’d recognize those sharp features anywhere. Heart thumping, he asked Gil, “Do you think he means that?”
