by DJ Jamison
That price was waiting for him in the hallway near Caleb and Julien’s private suite when he arrived. Avery looked anxious. “I can’t stay long. If anyone notices we’re together—”
Rory grabbed his face and kissed him. His lip gloss had faded away, probably with dinner, but his lips were still slightly sticky. His tongue was all hot slide though as the kiss deepened. Rory whimpered, he actually fucking whimpered with the need he felt, as they fell back against the wall. Avery gasped, and Rory panted against his mouth, grabbing a quick swallow of air, before resuming the kiss he never wanted to end.
A sudden sound made Rory jerk back, whipping his head to the side.
Julien had opened the door to his suite and stood watching them with a knowing expression. “Need a little privacy?”
“Yes,” Rory said, taking it for the invitation he knew it to be. He grabbed Avery’s hand and tugged him through the doorway.
Julien eyed them speculatively. “I’m in the mood for a walk. Take your time, however much you’ve got of it.” His lips quirked. “Try not to mess yourselves up too badly if you don’t want people to know what you’ve been doing.”
Avery reached up, smoothing down his ruffled hair, but Rory didn’t bother. He could pull his hair back into a tidy bun before they left. “Thanks, Julien.”
Julien nodded. “Just…remember what’s important in life, hmm? People only have the power you give them.”
He closed the door behind him, and silence swept in between them. The moment of passion had passed, regretfully.
Rory looked intently at Avery. “Julien’s right. You’ve given your father too much power. You shouldn’t have gone back.”
Avery looked hurt. “I couldn’t just let him destroy your career.”
“He won’t.”
“He could. He might!”
Rory shook his head. “I’m working on a plan to take care of that. Your father only has the leverage we give him, right? So, I’ll just take that away.”
“Rory.” Avery sounded distressed. “You can’t beat him at this game. I kept trying and look where it got us. If I’d just come out, just met you under normal circumstances…”
“He still might have interfered,” Rory interjected. “And I might have never given you the time of day.”
Avery looked down, chuckling. “You’re probably right.”
Rory stepped closer, smoothing his hands up Avery’s chest. Nearly purring, he added, “That would have been such a shame.”
“Yeah?”
Rory slipped his hands inside Avery’s jacket, soaking in his warmth as he stepped in close, pressing flush against Avery’s firm body. “It’d be a damn shame if I’d never felt you up in this tux.”
Avery laughed as Rory leaned in to kiss his neck.
“I wear your robe sometimes,” Rory said. “Just to feel it and remember you in it. I miss having you close. I want you back, Avery.”
“I want you back too.” Avery clasped Rory’s face, tipping it up so their eyes met again. “I’m working on it, okay? My father is going to announce his run for governor in two weeks. I have to be at the rally. But if I play along just a little longer…”
“How long?” Rory demanded. “He’ll want you under this thumb for that whole race, Avery, and we both know the election is nearly a year away.”
Avery sagged. “I know. I’m working on it. I don’t want to make any promises, just in case, but I’m not going to sit back and play his game forever.”
“Well, I’m working on it too,” Rory said. “And I will make you a promise, Avery. I’m going to take away your father’s power, then take his son, and when I do…I’m never giving him back.”
Avery’s breath quickened. “Never?”
Rory kissed him hard once again. “Never, Avery.”
“I want that,” Avery said quietly. “I do. I want to marry you, Rory. I want to spend my life with you. This, none of it, has ever been fake for me. But I don’t want you to risk too much. Your job is your passion, your work is your life, and I couldn’t handle ruining that for you.”
“You couldn’t ruin anything,” Rory said. “My work isn’t my only passion. There are other things in my life that are important.”
“Still, Rory, promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks. Playing my father’s games usually ends badly. Don’t go to the press or try to get dirt on him because it won’t work.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m not playing games,” Rory said. “But I refuse to give up without a fight.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m trying to be smart.”
“I know,” Rory said softly. “I saw that the moment you walked in tonight. You know who you are, and your father can’t change that. But let me do my part. I promise you, this isn’t about sinking down into the mud with him, it’s about rising above it.”
“What does that mean?” Avery said warily.
Rory smiled sadly. “I’d tell you, but then you’d only worry.”
“I’ll worry anyway.”
“Just trust me, Avery. Can you do that?”
Avery swallowed. “If you trust me? That I haven’t given up either. I will come back to you, and when I do…I hope you’ll still…”
“Still what? Want you?”
Avery nodded.
Rory just shook his head. “I already told you, Avery. Once we’re together again, we’re never spending a night apart.”
“Not a single night?” Avery teased.
“Nope. No business trips, no nights out with friends. I’m like glue. You’re gonna be stuck with me.”
Avery laughed, and it lit up Rory’s insides and warmed him thoroughly. He was more resolved than ever to see his plans through. He knew Avery was doing his best, but locked down with his father, how much could he really accomplish? Like he said, playing Senator Kinkaid’s games never ended well.
It was time for Rory to take himself off the board.
26
The two weeks following the gala were some of the loneliest of Avery’s life. Before, he’d been in a sort of numb purgatory, accepting that he had to wait out his father, wait for the right opportunity to put his plans in motion in order to protect Rory. He’d pushed all his pain down, suffocating it with the knowledge that he was doing the right thing for the man he loved.
But after seeing Rory again? All he felt was a raging need to be with him. To start his life free of deception, manipulation, or political gambits. He was restless, and after Rory’s cryptic words about some plans to rise above his father’s machinations, he was worried. The sooner Avery could put his own plan into action the better, but his father was an insomniac, and every time Avery had hoped to grab his phone in the night, his father was awake.
By the day of his father’s rally, Avery was frustrated and moody. Rory was right; today’s launching point was only the start of a campaign marathon. Avery could see rallies, political dinners, and more media interviews—always glued to his father’s side—on the horizon. And it was enough to make him feel reckless.
So reckless that when his father stepped away to consult with the venue manager before the start of the rally, Avery snatched his phone before his brain had a chance to fully think it through. Sending up a silent prayer, he tapped in his mother’s birth date with shaking fingers. He was so stunned when the phone unlocked, he just stared at it for long, breathless seconds.
His father’s guffaw startled him, and he hurriedly pulled up the camera, scrolling through images. Damn. His dad had a bazillion photos from the hospital tour, along with a few photos of documents, and a fucking stupid Facebook meme. Slipping the phone into his pocket, he called out, “I’m gonna hit the john.”
He turned to walk away.
“Avery!” his father called.
He froze in his tracks. Had his father seen him pick up his phone? His heart raced and he fought to keep his expression neutral as he glanced back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Don’t pull anything. You piss and you get ba
ck here. Don’t even think of putting any of that shit on your face.”
The venue manager’s eyebrows shot up at his father’s tone. Avery nodded once, biting down on the urge to smile. His father had not been pleased to see the gala photos, but Avery really didn’t care what his father wanted.
“I’ll be back in five,” Avery said.
“Good. I want you beside me onstage. This is an important day for your political career too.”
The political career Avery didn’t want but his father was bound and determined to lock him into.
He walked as calmly as he could until he was out of sight, then broke into a jog down the hallway and locked himself in a stall. He pulled out the phone and scrolled for what felt like forever before he found the screenshots. He hit the trash icon, tapping it harder than necessary. “Delete, delete, delete,” he muttered under his breath.
Then he opened his father’s email and did a few searches until he found some correspondence between him and the douche known as Alec Monroe. He didn’t have time to read them, so despite knowing there might be something to use against his father there—and because Avery had already resolved not to go down that road again—he deleted them all.
Time was ticking away, and he had no way of knowing if his father had copies saved elsewhere. It was the best he could do for now. Perhaps he’d get a chance to do a deeper search on his father’s computer later. Then again, maybe his father would notice the images and emails were missing from his phone and he’d confront Avery before that could happen. Maybe he’d have fallbacks that he could use against Rory, and he’d do that to punish Avery.
“Fuck,” he muttered as all the worst-case scenarios swirled in his head. Then he looked at the time and cursed under his breath.
It was already done, and he had to get back without raising suspicion. Avery pocketed the phone, taking the few seconds he could spare to swipe on some lip gloss, grinning savagely to himself. Then he hurried back to the staging area where they’d wait for the introduction to the stage. His father looked antsy.
“Have you seen my phone? I can’t seem to find it.”
Avery shook his head, keeping his face averted so his dad wouldn’t see the gloss. Avery wanted to walk out onto that stage with it on, his tiny rebellion. “Did you leave it in the car?”
“Maybe.” His father turned away, scanning the room. “I could have sworn I had it when they verified the schedule with me.”
While his back was turned, Avery hurriedly placed it on the vanity beside them. The event venue was a theater, and they were essentially in a dressing room of sorts. There were racks with costumes, and the vanity was strewn with wigs. A stack of playbills sat to the side for the production that would be playing the following weekend.
He nudged the phone under the edge of a wig and withdrew as his father turned back. “I know I didn’t leave it.”
Avery made a show of looking around, too, and a minute later his father discovered it.
“I didn’t leave it there, did I?” he said, sounding confounded.
“You did sit there while you were waiting for the event manager to arrive,” Avery said, heart pounding. It was true. His father had sat there, maybe for a minute, checking his phone messages. Avery had watched him, wishing he’d had a chance to take the phone, and then, like magic, his father had left it on the vanity.
His father huffed. “Don’t tell anyone your old man is losing his grip,” he said with a chuckle.
Avery kept his back turned to his father. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
His father snorted. “Not as long as I’ve got your number, eh? Well, welcome to a life of politics, kid.”
Rory funneled in with the rest of the crowd for Senator Kinkaid’s town hall meeting where he was expected to announce his run for Governor of Maine. He wasn’t yet sure if his plan was a good idea or sheer insanity—and he wasn’t sure he’d get the opportunity to put it into action, given the size of this crowd—but he had to try.
He’d thought about simply calling Avery and telling him what he’d done, but he knew that Avery wouldn’t like it, might even insist on maintaining their separation in an effort to change Rory’s mind. Even if Avery was willing to accept Rory’s choice, there was always the possibility that Senator Kinkaid might still try to use his information against Rory or Avery in the future.
Rory was fairly sure he needed a public platform to eliminate any chance of that, and Senator Kinkaid had this nice, public event ready to go. There were microphones set up at the front of the two aisles that ran between seats. This was a town hall type event, with opportunities for audience members to ask questions.
Rory took a seat close to the front, crossing his fingers that he’d get a shot at the mic. If not, he’d figure out a Plan B. But he really didn’t want to. He wanted this over. He wanted Avery back home. He wanted all the things that were supposed to be a lie—an engagement, a marriage, a life together—that had become his deepest truth.
Rory settled into his seat, which was surprisingly comfortable. The town hall was being held in a historic theater done up in red velvet and gold brocade. It was smaller, with capacity for somewhere around two hundred people on the floor and another one hundred in the balcony. But then, state level politics rarely drew the sort of numbers national politicians did. By the looks of it, the theater would only be about two-thirds full, but it was a decent showing. Probably helped that Senator Kinkaid had released the rumor that he was likely to announce a run for higher office before scheduling the event.
Looking around, Rory saw mostly the wealthy class represented, though there were some exceptions. There were some college-aged students toward the front. They were probably poly sci majors—maybe a few with an activist heart like Rory—looking to ask questions. There were also a few working men mixed into the crowd, but Bell Harbor, where the event was being held, was by and large a wealthy bedroom community to Portland. Despite Kinkaid running for a state-wide office soon, his current constituency largely lay within this one community.
Applause and cheers broke out, signaling the arrival of the senator on the stage, but Rory only had eyes for the man two steps back and to the right. Avery looked carefully neutral: he wore a navy blue suit that was perfectly respectable and sadly lacking the personality of his attire at the gala; he kept his eyes directed straight ahead, appearing to look out above everyone’s heads; and his mouth was fixed in a small, polite smile. Rory’s heart clenched. Something about Avery standing there, looking so void of life, made him more determined than ever to go through with his crazy plan. He didn’t care if he had to tackle someone, he was getting to that microphone and putting an end to this.
Then Avery shifted, turning his face slightly, and light glinted off his lips. His glossy lips.
Rory’s heart quickened. His Avery was still there, quietly waiting, braving his father’s fury to wear lip gloss. Senator Kinkaid glanced over at Avery and did an obvious double-take with a scowl on his face.
Papa Bear was not pleased. Rory smiled wide, exceedingly pleased himself. Avery was so fucking strong to face his father’s wrath. When they were teens, he never would have dared. Heck, a few months ago, Rory didn’t think he would have dared. But Avery was his own man now, and he’d proved it time and time again.
The mic onstage screeched when the senator breathed into it, making everyone wince and cover their ears, followed by the senator clearing his throat, which was nearly as cringeworthy. A tech rushed over to make a few adjustments, and a moment later he tried again.
“Good afternoon,” he said. “It’s a great day to be here with you all. Seeing your faces out there reminds me why Dirigo is such a fitting motto for our fine state. But I’d like to adapt it just a bit, because it’s not just that I lead and you follow, but that we lead together.”
Rory resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The senator’s words were true enough, just probably not in the way he intended. Kinkaid didn’t care about all his constituents, just the influencers wh
o could fund his campaign. He didn’t lead alone. He didn’t lead at all, if Rory were to hazard a guess. He blew where the winds of money and prestige pointed, which was currently the governor’s mansion.
But then Rory wouldn’t be a Kinkaid supporter, even if the senator hadn’t destroyed his relationship with Avery. He was far too passionate about the inequities in the world to ever fully love any politician, right or left, but he especially couldn’t support wealth and business over equality and compassion.
While the senator droned on about his service over the past decade, Rory watched Avery and waited for the Q-and-A session that would follow the speech-making. He was doing such a good job blocking out Drake Kinkaid’s back-patting that he nearly missed the moment he announced his bid for governor. Luckily, the crowd erupted into applause, cluing him in. He noticed a handful of people headed down the aisle and jumped up to take a place at one of the microphones. He barely slipped in ahead of a woman wearing a green blouse and white capris, her highlighted hair cut in a neat bob, and she pursed her lips in disapproval.
“We’ll take some questions now, and then I’ll let my son take the microphone to discuss his own plans. Let’s hear from, uh…” Kinkaid stuttered, flustered, when he saw Rory at the mic. His gaze darted to the other side of the auditorium, where people lined up at the other microphone. He pointed to a young guy there.
“Let’s here from this young man, shall we?”
“I just wondered if we could expect your same agenda as governor of Maine?” the guy said. “You call yourself independent, but you’ve allied yourself with several Republicans.”
Kinkaid didn’t hesitate. “I call myself an independent because I am one. I’ve worked with both parties before, and I’ll do it again. That’s why I’m a good candidate for governor. I’ll leave the party politics out of it and focus on what’s right for the people of Maine. Next.”
