by DJ Jamison
Avery made the call to the senator’s office, asking curtly for Peter Rains, the campaign manager, when the call connected.
“You can’t send out this press release as is,” he said without bothering with a greeting. “I don’t want these words attributed to me.”
“Okay,” Peter said slowly. “What seems to be the problem?”
Avery scoffed. The whole thing was the problem, but he narrowed it down for Peter.
“This phrase that says, ‘Rory Fisher and I have dissolved our engagement due to irreconcilable differences. He didn’t mesh with my family, and I was torn between him and my father. When he tried to make me choose, I had no choice but to follow my heart and remain loyal to the man who raised me as a single father.’ ”
“Mm-hmm. So, what do you suggest?”
“I won’t malign Rory or imply he poisoned me against my father.”
“Isn’t it true that you were torn between him and your dad?” Peter asked, sounding almost genuine. “That’s why you’re here now.”
“That’s my father’s doing, not Rory’s. I don’t want his character tarnished, and I won’t sign off on anything that makes him look bad. Tell my father that I’ll walk out, go straight back to Rory if he tries to slip any of this shit past me to the media. He can make me look bad all he wants. The disloyal son who got angry after an argument and decided to lash out at his father. Whatever. But Rory stays out of it.”
There was a beat of silence. “Okay, Avery, I’ll revise this and send over a new version for you and your father to approve.”
“You do that.”
He hung up the phone a little too forcefully, glancing up to see his administrative assistant standing in the doorway. Cheryl was in her late fifties, wearing a frilly blouse and a business skirt, dyed hair cut in a bob. She was efficient and no-nonsense most of the time, which Avery appreciated. But just now she looked at him as if he were a lost puppy.
“How much of that did you hear?” he asked.
“Enough.” She pressed a hand over her heart. “You’d been so happy lately, too.”
Avery forced a smile even as his heart clenched with pain. “I’m okay, Cheryl. Did you need something?”
She sighed and shook her head, then seemed to remember. “Oh, your two o’clock meeting was shifted to four.”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
She headed toward the door, hesitated, and glanced back. “Let me know if you need anything. You know, we’ve all seen these news stories, and I know you, Avery. You’re honest. You’d never just make up all those things…” She hesitated awkwardly. “I just mean to say, you have a lot of people who support you and your freedom to be with someone you love. I’d be happy to go on record about that.”
Avery’s smile turned more genuine. “Even if it meant your job?”
She nodded once. “Even then.”
She walked out, leaving Avery feeling stunned. He had no idea anyone would feel loyal enough to him to take a stand like that. He’d never ask her to do it, or anyone else at the bank. If it came to it, his father would be pushing Avery out the door, not the other way around. But it was nice to know he wasn’t as alone as he felt.
In a way, Cheryl reminded Avery a little of Rory’s mother. He remembered the open invitation she gave him to talk, anytime. He wanted to talk to Rory, to hear his voice, to hold him. That would violate his agreement with his father and would only make it harder for both of them to endure this separation. But Rory’s mother was the next-best thing.
Avery pulled up her number on his cell and hit call.
“Hello?” she answered.
“It’s Avery.”
“Oh, dear. I heard what happened.”
“Rory called you?”
“You bet your ass he did. You can’t leave him like this, Avery. My Rory is a fighter. He doesn’t want you to give up everything. He can take a few punches.”
“This is bigger than just him or me,” Avery said.
There was the Equal Justice League’s reputation to consider. The clients they served. The fundraising gala that could make or break the agency’s ability to remain open.
“He told me that too,” she said, sounding disappointed. There were voices in the background. Chatter that Avery couldn’t decipher.
“Are you busy with the girls? I can call another time,” Avery said.
“Oh no, I’m at the hair salon,” she said.
He’d forgotten she was a hairstylist. She’d been on vacation during all of Christmas break, so he hadn’t given her job much thought.
“Don’t worry, I’m on a break,” she said. “You two will figure this out. I have faith in both of you.”
“You don’t know me that well.”
“I know you love my son.”
Avery’s heart nearly shattered inside his chest. “I do,” he choked. “I’m so sorry about how this has all gone. Can you tell him for me?”
“No.” Avery blinked. She carried on, “I won’t tell him because you will when you two figure this out. No slimy politician is going to break my son’s heart. No offense to your father, honey.”
“None taken.” It wasn’t anything he didn’t think himself.
“Bide your time. Make your plans. But don’t give up,” she said. “Rory deserves more than that.”
“I won’t give up,” Avery said. “I promise.”
“Good. Now tell me how you’re doing …”
For the next hour, Avery purged, feeling drained by it but also filled with hope again. Rory’s mom believed in them, and somehow, that made it easier for Avery to believe too. This wasn’t the end, just like he’d told Rory. He just didn’t know how it would end. How could he beat a man who was always two steps ahead when it came to blackmail and manipulation?
All he could do was wait for his opportunity, and hope that when it came, he was ready for it.
Rory sprawled on Caleb and Julien’s papasan chair, eating the pretzels Julien had forced on him in an attempt to keep him from alcohol poisoning. Rory had been wallowing hard since arriving two days ago. Caleb and Julien had been sympathetic, but he could see they were losing patience.
“I can’t believe he walked out,” Rory said for probably the hundredth time since he’d first stepped onto the island after running from his house. “Just like that.”
“It sounds like his father didn’t leave him much choice,” Julien pointed out.
Rory had been over the whole sad story multiple times. He’d gotten black-out drunk his first night and woke up on a table in the bar. Caleb had locked him in there so none of the guests would stumble over him. Rory had dragged himself up to his room when they let him out and slept most of the day. He’d had a quiet dinner in the kitchen with Anna, their household manager, because Caleb and Julien were busy with a wedding. Caleb had to micromanage the event, ensuring every step went exactly as planned, while Julien photographed. It also meant the bar had been off-limits that evening. Rory had gone for a long walk on the beach, stared out into the ocean, and found no answers in the dark waves. But at least his body had gotten a chance to recover.
Tonight, though? He needed oblivion. Because tomorrow he had to go back… He had to go back to the job that meant he and Avery couldn’t be together, back to the house that was empty except for Ricardo, back to a life that no longer made sense without Avery.
Caleb entered the room, looking worn out. Julien hopped up to kiss him, and Rory averted his eyes. It was too painful to watch them right now, happy and united. He’d asked Avery to marry him, he remembered with a jolt. Asked him for all the wrong reasons, maybe, but one right one.
“Rory, you’ve got to pull yourself together.”
Caleb took a seat on the loveseat, and Julien resettled beside him. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, Caleb scanned Rory over. “You’re a mess.”
Rory scoffed. “Yeah, because you looked great when Julien up and left on your wedding day.”
Julien visibly cringed, and Caleb reached out to
pat his leg. “It’s no secret I was devastated without you,” he said.
“I hate that my father did that to us.”
“He had you cornered,” Caleb said. “But that does make me wonder…”
“What?” Julien asked.
Rory had mostly checked out of the conversation because he didn’t want to hear about their lovely reunion and everlasting love. As soon as he could motivate enough to get off this loveseat, he was going to go upstairs, strip down, put on Avery’s robe, and try to get through the night without raiding the bar any further. He probably owed Caleb a fortune in liquor.
Rory really wasn’t used to drinking so much, though, and his body was starting to protest quite loudly. If he kept up this pace, he wasn’t going to be functional at all. He’d taken a long weekend, but he had to get back to work. He’d promised himself he’d give himself a four-day weekend to wallow, a weekend to disappear into oblivion. When he returned to Portland, he’d pull himself together, do his job, and figure out how to sleep in his bed without Avery. But until then…
“Rory,” Caleb said sharply.
Rory blinked and attempted to focus. “Sorry, I’ll go to my room.”
“No, I was just asking if you remembered what happened after Julien left.”
“You got really drunk?”
“After that.”
Rory huffed. “Just tell me what you mean.”
“I went after him,” Caleb said, his eyes intent. “I fought for him.”
“Once you pulled your ass out of your head,” Rory agreed. “Or…your head out of your ass. Whatever.”
Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose, seemingly annoyed. “Not the point.”
“Julien’s mom showed up and helped get leverage on him,” Rory said. “I have no leverage. Avery and I already tried everything. He has all the power.”
“Right,” Julien said. “He threatened to get you fired, maybe ruin your whole career.”
“Yep,” Rory said, popping the P. “Lucky me.”
“You’re right that we had some help with Julien’s father,” Caleb said. “We might have lost Bliss Island to him without it, so we needed it. But… you don’t need to win some sort of blackmail standoff, Rory. If you love Avery—”
“I do,” Rory said sharply.
“Okay. So you love Avery. And you love your job. Which one do you love more?”
Rory stared at him. “I love Avery more. My job with Equal Justice League is important to me, but there are other jobs. It’s just… What about the clients?”
“Well, you’re not the Equal Justice League,” Caleb pointed out. “Just like I’m not Bliss Island. We dug up some dirt on Louis Chastain, but I went to Miami knowing it might not be enough to win. I went there knowing that Julien might not want to spend the rest of his life on this rock with me. Do you follow?”
“Not really.”
Caleb reached forward, picked up a pretzel, and threw it directly at Rory’s head. It bounced off his forehead and into his lap.
“Hey!” Rory protested before picking it up and stuffing it into his mouth.
“I’m saying that I went there, prepared to give up whatever it took to have Julien. I could be a wedding planner anywhere, get another job if need be, but there was only one man that I loved.”
Julien made a soft sound and kissed Caleb’s cheek. Then he stood. “I’m off to bed, boys. Don’t stay up too late.”
Once he was gone, Caleb stared down Rory. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Avery’s more than a job. I already knew that.”
Caleb threw up his hands. “Then what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to fight, but he wouldn’t let me! He kept saying he couldn’t let me lose my job or let Equal Justice League and my clients suffer because of his father.”
“Then don’t let his father take your job or hurt the agency.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Rory was admittedly foggy after a weekend of boozing, but he still thought Caleb was missing the point. “He’s got all the leverage.”
“So take away his leverage. You don’t need leverage on him, Rory. You only need to make the leverage he has on you meaningless. Think about that while you sober up. In your room. So I can sleep with my husband.”
Rory laughed a little, standing up. “I can take a hint.”
“Really?” Caleb said sarcastically. “Could have fooled me.”
Rory ignored the insult, heading for the door. There was a big fluffy bed awaiting him and the soft fabric of Avery’s robe. Rory could see why Avery liked to wear it; it was like wearing a fucking cloud. But he’d always prefer feeling it slide over another man’s skin. For now, it was the closest to Avery he could come, his security blanket and coping mechanism.
But as soon as he had Avery back—and he would get him back, once he had a chance to think straight and consider Caleb’s words more carefully—he’d never put it on again. He’d just insist Avery wear it while he fucked him thoroughly in every room of his house.
Because one day it would happen. One day, they’d be back together in his house, and Drake Kinkaid would have no power over them.
He had to believe that.
Avery played his father’s game. He joined him on a tour of a new hospital wing, posing for photos with his father’s arm slung over his shoulders and a fake-as-hell smile on his face. He dutifully confirmed that he had ended his engagement with Rory Fisher in a press release prepared by his father’s office, though he maintained their separation was a mutual decision, entirely amiable, to his father’s annoyance. He also reluctantly spoke of his father’s unwavering support, even after Avery had lashed out at him, in an interview set up with his father’s reporter of choice.
Drake Kinkaid had chosen Ted Minner, an old statehouse reporter nearing retirement. He said that Minner was happy to write stories fed to him, leaving the chasing of big headlines to younger fish.
Minner didn’t use a recorder, but an old-school reporter’s notebook to jot down Avery’s words, so at least Avery didn’t have to look him in the eye as he spewed his father’s carefully orchestrated lies. But he suspected Minner wouldn’t be working all that hard to get to the truth. He looked like he might fall asleep at any moment. No wonder Drake Kinkaid liked this guy.
“I was so hurt by the legislation pressing forward, which would have been dangerous to anti-LGBTQ individuals, as well as other minorities, that I said things I regret,” Avery told Minner when asked about his early interviews about his father. “I did not know at the time that my father was working behind the scenes to kill the bill.”
“Partly my fault,” his father had interjected smoothly, adding a practiced chuckle to sound humble. “I didn’t make Avery privy to all my actions in the statehouse. I knew the bill had upset him, and I should have done more to assuage those concerns.”
Of course, Drake Kinkaid had never really worked to kill the bill. Avery was certain of that now. But his allies in the statehouse would never call him a liar.
After the interview, Avery felt sick. He’d never liked lying, even though he’d been doing it practically his whole life. And now, having spoken lies for black-and-white print, he felt stained by his father’s deception. He couldn’t stomach returning to his father’s house, so he headed for Gil’s place.
He’d been trying to come up with an idea of how he could get out of this fix. He wanted to protect Rory, but he’d underestimated the power of his own disgust with his father. He was having trouble sleeping at night. He kept having disturbing dreams, some that made sense and some that didn’t. Sometimes he saw Rory, usually with a disdainful expression on his face. In his dream, Rory looked as he did at eighteen. He shook his head. “I thought we had something.” Then he walked away. Other times, the dreams were convoluted: tossing waves, flashes of lightning, sinister laughing, his disturbed subconscious sending him a message, Avery supposed. He was afraid of losing Rory, he was off-balance and uncertain of his footing.
H
e’d had fanciful, romantic thoughts about waiting as long as it took to be with Rory, but now that he was without him, he was impatient. He didn’t want to wait for his father to retire from politics, or even for him to get through his next election. Even though his father was nearing the date when he’d announce his gubernatorial run, it would be months before the race officially kicked off and nearly a year before he’d take office. Avery couldn’t wait a year to return to Rory.
He knocked on Gil’s apartment door, and his friend let him in. Gil looked better groomed than the day Avery had barged in thinking the worst. Gil had easily forgiven him for his mistake, but Avery still felt bad for jumping to that conclusion. He’d trusted Gil implicitly, which was why he’d never worried Gil would give him away—not even when his father grilled Gil about what he might know. His father had managed to damage their friendship, too, with his meddling. Not to mention Gil’s self-esteem. The poor guy kept beating himself up for trusting too easily, for believing that Alex asshole could have ever genuinely liked him.
“Hey, what’s up?” Gil said.
“I wanted to run an idea by you.” Avery stepped inside, taking note of the empty soda cans cluttering Gil’s coffee table. The place had a stale smell, as if Gil had closed himself in and hadn’t been cleaning, but at least it looked like he was sticking to junk food and soda. “Have you looked for another job yet?”
“No. Not like your dad will give me a good reference, so…”
“I can make that happen,” Avery said. He was writing checks he hoped he’d be able to cash, but it didn’t matter because Gil shook his head.
“No. I don’t think I want to work in politics anymore.”
“Ah, man,” Avery said, feeling guilt rush up. “I never should have hooked you up with my dad. At the time, I thought I was doing you a favor.”
“I know. It’s not your fault.”
It was totally Avery’s fault. Gil could have been working for another, maybe more honorable, politician. Despite everything, Avery knew there were truly principled men in the statehouse. Sadly, they were just outnumbered. Avery also knew his father used to be one of those men. He wasn’t sure exactly when it had changed, but somewhere along the way Drake lost sight of the reason he’d run to begin with—to fill his late wife’s seat and carry on her legacy of public service—and let greed take over.
