by Jerry Cole
So, imagine my shock when I discovered that not only was my phone still on airplane mode but as soon as I restored connectivity I was bombarded by messages from both Mrs. Moraz and Mr. Dunlevy, Patrick’s father. Before I had a chance to see what the news was the phone rang in my hand. It was from Mr. Dunlevy’s private line so I knew it must be serious. Not wanting to wake Patrick before I had a chance to get the details of the situation I scooted back into the bathroom.
“Good morning, sir,” I answered the phone, nearly breathless.
“Jesus Christ, R-Ramirez. Where in the hell have you been?” He made a valiant attempt at rolling his R’s whenever he said my name. It never came out right, sounding more like a stammer than an authentic accent, but it was nice of him to try.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said blankly. In reality, it didn’t matter what my reasons or where I was, he simply wanted me to act guilty of doing something else when he needed me. Apologizing is easier than explaining. Patrick taught me that the first week after I was hired.
“Listen, I’ve been trying to track down my son. I know you are leaving us and you probably have handed the reigns over to that Moraz woman, but she has no idea where he is either. Apparently neither of you have shown your face for two days, so I assumed he’s with you.”
“Sir?”
“You think I don’t know how often you have to fish him out of the bottom of whatever fishbowl he climbs into? He must have caused you a headache this time, so close to your departure. But, I am going to make it worse and demand something from you.”
“Sir?”
“I am calling a family meeting. I need Patrick to be there. We both know he won’t show his face if I ask him so I am counting on you to get him here by next week, Sunday,” he said.
“Sunday? For a family meeting?”
“Yes, and I don’t want to hear anything about using the internet to make face line calls or whatever they’re called. I want my son. Here! Next week!”
“May I ask, sir, why he’s being called back?”
“This is a private family matter. We are very fond of you but this is strictly for family,” he said. I smirked. It’s funny how he became “we” as soon as it was time to reject me. That was another tactic that the Dunlevys used. When it came time to issue orders or accept praise they were sure to make sure that they got all of the credit. When it’s time to say or do something that might upset others they were sure to share the credit. I wondered how he would feel about that statement if he knew how his beloved son spent the night.
“Understood, I’ll do my best,” I said.
“I’m sure you will,” he hung up the phone without any pleasantries. I rolled my eyes and swallowed the urge to throw the phone across the room. If there was one thing I was not going to miss it was these little chats with Mr. Dunlevy. He was pleasant enough but he didn’t listen at all. I’d given up even trying to communicate with him a few years ago. In his mind his job was to give orders, your job was to execute them, and the fact that he was polite about it was really his gift to you. Considering what a pompous ass he was, it was a miracle that Patrick had turned out as well as he had.
Now it was my job to guilt him into getting on a plane and spending some time with his family. It was going to be a disaster. Some part of me, the stupid part most likely, was happy to do it. Patrick would probably need backup while he was there. Agreed, he was a selfish idiot, but those are the people who made him that way. The Patrick he used to be, the one Josh told me about while he slept, was kind and joyful. He cared about others and had high hopes for the future.
When I think about it, maybe he wasn’t a complete waste of time. I’ve seen him do a lot of good in the world. I’ve seen him spend considerable amounts of money on people who could never repay him. I’ve seen him thwart his father’s plans to protect people who would have been crushed by the old man. I always assumed that he did these things to piss off the old man or to avoid bad press. It never occurred to me that he might actually mean any of it.
Until now…
“Marcelo? Are you okay?”
Patrick’s sleepy voice echoed down the hall. I stumbled back to the bedroom to find him sitting up in bed, his hair twisted around into a crazy bird’s nest on top of his head. The first rays of the sun were pushing against the blinds, casting shadows along his alabaster skin.
“I’m okay. I had to pee.”
“With your phone?”
“Force of habit. I needed to check my messages.”
I put my phone down on the dresser and leaned against the wall, facing him. He sat up straighter, draping an arm over one knee. His face changed from relaxed and innocent to devious with barely a second’s notice. It was obvious that I had bad news to deliver and he was ready for it.
“Just give it to me straight,” he said.
“Honestly?”
“That’s our new thing now, right? I tell you the truth and you stop managing me. That’s Helen’s job. Just tell me the truth.”
“Your father demands your presence next week for a family meeting. I don’t know what it’s about. He basically told me to mind my business. But I am responsible for making sure that you show up in person.”
He flinched slightly and then exhaled loudly. He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the window for a minute. I watched a series of emotions play out on his face. For the first time, it felt like his petulance had meaning. For the first time, I noticed that he wasn’t JUST a spoiled, rich, bad boy. I saw fear, anger, sadness, and then worry.
Patrick was always in conflict with his father, but I’d never looked too deeply into why they didn’t get along. I always assumed that a spoiled son and a demanding father would naturally fight, and if you add all of the excesses that money allowed, it was almost inevitable that their relationship would be strained. Somehow, it only now occurred to me that there might be something else...something deeper to that conflict. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was guilty of not paying attention. Maybe I had never truly been interested enough in who he really was to find out why he was the way he was. I shook my head. Maybe I was also an asshole.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“I was just thinking, this is going to be one hell of a trip.”
“You’re still coming?”
“I was summoned,” I explained.
“Let Helen take care of it. You’re injured.”
I shuffled over to the bed and sat on the edge next to him.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I said, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Let’s go see what the old man wants.”
He smiled innocently again and threaded his fingers through mine. He didn’t have to say it but I could tell that he was grateful to have his old wingman by his side as he walked into what would inevitably prove to be a firefight. The one thing that Dunlevys are good at is lying, especially to themselves. But that didn’t mean that everything was a lie.
Chapter Twelve
Pulling up to the gates of my family’s “home” is a little like pulling up to a castle full of monsters. It looks great from the lawn. The new family home was my father’s gift to my mother. She’d always seen herself as a princess, and after nearly two decades of living in the largest house in small-town America, she had earned the right to a proper mansion, somewhere where other people had mansions too.
My father had sent a car to pick us up from the airport. He’d also sprung for a first-class ticket and a direct flight. On the outside, it looked like he was being generous, but really he was just ensuring that I didn’t give him the slip.
I looked over at Marcelo who looked more relaxed than I’d seen him in a very long time. I would have to ask Helen to get me a prescription for whatever he was taking. He met my gaze and smiled. I tried to return the gesture but couldn’t quite manage it. He grabbed my hand and gave it a small squeeze.
“Everything will be fine,” he said. I wanted to believe him. He obviously believed it.
“Yo
u decided to slum it today,” I said, plucking at his chinos and casual button-down shirt.
“It’s impossible to look dapper wearing a cast.”
“You managed to pull it off, though,” I said pitching my voice a little lower than normal.
“Pull what off?” His question sounded innocent enough but we both knew he was anything but.
“Isn’t that my line?” I felt some of the tension ease from my chest as he gave me a sly smile. This was what I needed in my life. This was the reason why I couldn’t let him escape. I needed somebody in my world who could make me smile even while I faced my own personal demons. I needed Marcelo.
The car pulled up to the front door and the driver slid out of the front seat without a word. I actually preferred hiring taxis for myself; at least the drivers spoke to you. Other than correctly identifying me as “Mr. Patrick Dunlevy and his assistant” the driver hadn’t said a single word to me or Marcelo. He was probably following orders, but even Uber drivers bothered to ask if you had a nice flight. I would have to have a talk with my mother about the friendliness of her hires. She was getting sloppy.
I got out of the car and stood there looking up the set of stone stairs that led to the French-style double front doors made of real mahogany and stained glass. I hadn’t even put one foot on the stairs yet and I already had goosebumps.
“Ready?” Marcelo grabbed my hand suddenly. I flinched and jerked my hand away. Marcelo looked at me, puzzled by my reaction.
“You startled me,” I said with an awkward chuckle. He didn’t challenge me but I could see in his eyes that I would have to explain.
“Shall we, sirs,” the driver said, lifting our bags and marching up the stairs to the front door. He rang the doorbell and waited patiently for somebody to open, even though it was likely that it was unlocked.
“Let’s go,” Marcelo said, grabbing me by the elbow.
“I can walk on my own,” I complained.
“Yeah, but I can’t.”
I looked down at his cast and instantly felt like an ass. I helped him hop up the steps and shuffle into the front hall. It wasn’t his first visit to the new family home and so he didn’t need any introductions but I had thought that at least one member of my family would be there to greet us. They weren’t.
“Where did everybody go?” I asked a maid who was passing through the patio door.
“Miss Evangeline had a lesson this morning,” she said, her thick Filipino accent making her barely intelligible.
“Oh,” I said.
She smiled politely and continued on her way, dust rag and a spray bottle full of multi-surface cleaner in hand. The girl was obviously new and already showing signs of weariness. It was no wonder. Not only were my mother’s standards detailed and exacting, but she also insisted on having a never-ending parade of get-togethers that would stain, smudge, and unhouse as much of the house’s contents as possible. Cleaning up behind my mother was like trying to prevent your basement from flooding by using paper towels. It was a futile and thankless job and my father never agreed to hire more than just one maid at a time.
My mother loved a clean house. It was a damned shame that she didn’t know how to keep one.
“Marcelo, remind me to look into her when we get back,” I said. He smirked.
“Yes sir.”
“What?”
“You don’t like to show it, but you’re not all bad, you know?”
“You take that back. I’m still your boss. You can’t talk shit about me like that,” I shoved him gently with my elbow.
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you like me to bring these upstairs?” The driver interrupted.
He pointed to the two bags he’d just brought in from the car. Since we were only staying for a day, we’d both packed light but I still didn’t trust Marcelo to carry his own bag. I declined the offer from the driver, took them both, and slung them over my shoulders, rather valiantly if I may be so bold. I felt like I should at least bother to ask the driver’s name, but something in his eyes told me that he was as unenthusiastic about being here as I was. He turned and left without another word.
Marcelo and I managed to make it up the stairs where everything was still as it always had been. One thing about going through a revolving door of maids and housekeepers was that you tended to avoid shifting things around a lot. You needed to be able to give instructions to the newcomers and that could be tricky if you forgot where you kept the ammonia. My room was ready for me, the sheets clean and the furniture freshly dusted.
“I wonder when Evangeline’s lesson will be finished,” I said, dropping our bags and flopping back on the queen-sized bed.
“Soon, I suspect.” Marcelo bent down and picked up his bag.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to put my stuff away.”
“Where?”
“In my room,” he said.
“No. Not this time,” I got up and walked over to take the bag back. He fought me for it but quickly let go when I nearly toppled us both, trying to yank it away from him.
“Patrick…” he gave me a look that said, “you know better”.
“Not this time. You’re injured. You need help. Not to mention that I am not looking forward to lying in bed, staring at the walls after my father makes whatever announcement he is making tonight. You stay here tonight.”
“But your father—”
“Listen to me!” I grasped his face in my hands and looked him in the eyes. I needed him to know that this was the truth. The whole truth. “I know I didn’t react well at the door. I’m sorry. Old habits die hard. But it’s not like I’m not out, okay? I just…”
“Don’t want them to know you’re with me,” he finished. The disappointment was clear in his face even if his voice remained flat.
“Yes, but not for the reasons you think.”
“Then you should let me stay in the guest room.”
“No way!”
“You can’t have it both ways, Patrick. We can’t be together and not together at the same time.”
“Why not? Aren’t we that way right now?”
“We—” he shook his head in confusion. I’d finally made an argument that he couldn’t shatter. Sure, I’d been home exactly twice since he broke his foot, but our relationship remained undefined. I wasn’t his boyfriend. Not yet, at least.
“I want you with me tonight. I want to wake up next to you and go to sleep beside you. I don’t care what they think about it. They don’t approve of anything I do. I just don’t want them to hurt you or make your life hard to push you away from me. Nobody gives a shit if I’m banging my secretary, they probably assumed I’ve been sleeping with you all along. But, if they know how much you mean to me they will use that against us and we still don’t know why we’re here.”
“You make sense,” he said and then kissed me hard.
“Good,” I breathed a sigh as our lips separated.
Marcelo opened his mouth as if he were about to say something when we both heard the door close downstairs. We separated like two teens who got caught kissing in the family den. A silly smile tickled the corners of his mouth and I pushed my hand through my hair, feeling foolish. I was too old to be hiding like this, but it still felt new and exciting. I suppose if he’s been a masseuse I’d talked into giving me a blow job, I wouldn’t have cared much. But he wasn’t. He was my Marcelo. He was only the second person I could say I had real, deep, feelings for and this time I wanted to do the right thing and protect him.
“Patrick!” the cries of Evangeline echoed up the staircase as she ran up to greet me. Apparently, somebody had alerted my family to my presence.
Evangeline was the official princess of castle Dunlevy. She was a late addition to the family and almost impossible not to love. We weren’t close, but not because she wasn’t lovable. She’d managed to escape the curse of pale skin and red hair, instead, she had chestnut locks and skin that tanned when it hit the sun instead of sizzling li
ke bacon. She was beautiful and talented and at least appeared to have her soul still intact.
“Hey Mr. Ramirez,” she said, seeing Marcelo sitting next to me in the bedroom.
“Hello Evangeline,” Marcelo said with a slight nod of the head.
“What happened to your leg?” She grasped the front of her dress in distress. On anybody else, that gesture would look ridiculous and forced but Evangeline was a princess through and through.
“I had an accident.”
“Oh, well how will you get up and down the stairs?”
“I’ll help him,” I said.
She looked skeptical but didn’t challenge me.
“This is his last day working for me anyway,” I added. “I might as well show him a little appreciation.”
“Oh really?” She looked stricken. “You’re leaving, Mr. Ramirez?”
“It’s time for me to move on,” he said softly.
Tears filled her eyes and she turned on her heel and ran off dramatically.
“What the hell is that about?” I shook my head. I had to remember that she was only thirteen and the inner workings of thirteen-year-old girls were as much of a mystery to me today as they were when I was thirteen.
“She’ll be okay,” Marcelo said.
“Now, let’s focus on getting through this family meeting so I can go back home.”
“Do you really think of that place like home?”
I paused. It was the first time anybody had ever asked me something like that.
“If I had to define home as the place where you belong, then anywhere you are is my home.”
Chapter Thirteen
“So, what does this mean?”
I looked down at the stack of papers that my mother had presented to me.
“It means that we aren’t getting any younger, we can’t live forever, and we need you to look out for the family,” she said, her eyes hard like marbles.
