by Andy Gallo
“You did the right thing being true to yourself and telling us.”
“Losing Dad makes it the worst mistake I could’ve made.”
“It was absolutely the right thing to do. Too many kids kill themselves because they need to hide who they are. I won’t let that happen to you.” She took his hands in hers. “Darren, I love you so much. You are such a light in my world. I would give up everything I own to keep you.”
His nose tingled and tears welled in his eyes. “Thanks, Mom. I love you too.”
“I know you’re disappointed in your father, but give him time.”
“Time for what?” If he didn’t want a gay son, that wasn’t going to change. As he’d said, if he’d known his dad didn’t like gay people, he’d never have said anything. Talk about no clue. “He’s not going to approve of me any more later than now.”
“It’s not that.” She put a finger to his lips to stop his protest. “No, it isn’t. Your father doesn’t . . . you being gay wasn’t something he expected. He’ll come around. He will. I know your father. He doesn’t like it when plans don’t go the way he expects.”
“Sorry I’m not the plan he expected.”
“I’m not happy either.” The fact she mentioned a disagreement with his father spoke to how strongly it bothered her. “But you know me. I don’t give up when I’m right.”
He snorted. “Are you? Right, that is?”
“Absolutely. Darren, I don’t care about what the person you like does or who his family is, I just want you to be happy. I’m still going to ask questions. I’m your mother and I’ll do whatever I need to do to make sure you’re safe.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He smiled. “You still think I’m five, tumbling down the hill.”
“It’s called love and it’s what mothers do. And let’s be clear, you can’t change this, so don’t even try.”
Darren hauled his mother in for a hug. “Thanks, Mom.”
“So . . . is there someone you might like?”
Darren chuckled against her hair. “Yeah. I think there is.”
Chapter Thirteen
Isaiah
The patio doors opened, and Isaiah twisted to see Darren gliding toward him with a surprisingly upbeat smile.
Darren stopped a half-foot from him. “When did you come down? I didn’t hear you.”
Isaiah wanted to mirror the brightness coming from Darren, but it was a struggle to slip on a two-second grin. He gave up and shrugged. “A few minutes ago. I wasn’t sure if I could go into the kitchen without you.”
“You could’ve gone in. Mom and I were chatting while she ate.”
“You’re done with breakfast?” Isaiah asked.
Darren shoved his hands into his pockets and his gaze hopped from Isaiah’s face to the row of oaks in the distance. “No. I was waiting for you.”
Oh. That was nice. Really nice.
God, why did he have to be so amazing, and so unattainable? “Is your dad going to join us?”
Darren’s face screwed up. Not the first time it had done that at the mention of his dad. “He was gone when I got up to go run at six thirty.”
“You ran at six thirty?” Isaiah choked out a laughing groan. “Here I thought being up and ready by eight was impressive.”
Darren smirked. “Impressively lazy.”
“Shut up.”
Darren’s eyes twinkled, like he found Isaiah adorable, and dammit. Not helping Isaiah to stifle what was clearly a monster-sized crush.
“Will your dad be back before dinner?”
Darren’s good mood temporarily wavered. “Yes. Mom said he needed to finish something on the deal he’s trying to sign. He’ll be back after lunch. I think he wants to meet with you before the dinner.”
“Gotcha.”
Darren hitched a finger behind him. “Shall we go eat? Gabrielle, our cook, will want to clean up before lunch.”
Isaiah knew they had a cook, but hearing it roll off Darren’s tongue so easily reinforced why he needed to stop whatever this was before it went further.
Two different worlds.
“Sure, but I’m fine with something that won’t make a mess.”
“Let’s see what she has before we settle on cereal.” He flashed a disarming smile, and Isaiah fought not to ask Darren about the night before.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Gabrielle insisted they eat crepes. Delicious, light crepes with fresh fruit and homemade whipped cream.
“Do you eat like that every day?”
“No way. My coach would throw a fit. She made those for you.”
“Funny, I got the feeling she did it for you. She said a couple times how good it was to see you again.”
“She’s been with my family since I was eight.” The happy expression told Isaiah all he needed to know. “I remember how disappointed I was when I learned she had two teenagers. I thought we were her family.”
“Really? You didn’t know the cook was . . . you know, someone who worked for your parents?”
“I guess I did, but at nine I didn’t really think like that. She was here, she loved me, she was family.” He shrugged. “I get how stupid that sounds, but . . .”
“No, I get it.” Darren only saw people by how they treated him. It was a beautiful sentiment, even if simplistic.
“Do you have something you want to do? Homework? Practice? Read?”
Isaiah sensed Darren had something particular in mind. “Nothing I need to do. Why? Did you have something you want to do?”
Darren’s gaze jumped about again. “Not really. We could go for a drive if you like.”
So he did have something. Knew it. A smile tipped Isaiah’s lips. “Sure. That’s cool.”
Darren led them around the back of the house toward a large white shed. It had probably been a stable or carriage house when it was first built. Behind it, Isaiah spotted rows of metal structures.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.
Darren stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground. “A pipe dream, I guess.”
“Yeah, you’re gonna need to tell me more than that.”
Isaiah detoured around the side of the shed, and Darren traipsed behind him.
The view opened up and Isaiah lurched to a halt at the sea of solar panels. “It’s a mini solar farm.”
Darren sighed, warm breath catching on Isaiah’s ear. “I convinced my dad to build this to power the car barn.” He pointed further back in the field. “There is a second slightly bigger one there.”
“This is awesome. Now go back to the pipe-dream bit.”
Darren scoured the solar farm. “I thought if Dad saw how well it worked, he might sanction a renewable energy initiative at MAS Oil.”
“Renewable energy initiative?” Isaiah asked.
“Oil’s time as a fuel is limited. Not immediately, but in our lifetime for sure. That’s not a dream, it’s reality. There is only so much oil in the world, it’s destroying the environment, and more and more people are moving toward electric cars. MAS can ride it out if they want, in which case it will slowly become diminished. Or it can recognize the future and use excess profits to slowly build up its renewable energy assets to offset oil’s inevitable decline.”
He pointed toward a large rectangular container at the far end of the array. “That’s a high-capacity storage cell. During a sunny day, we generate way more energy than we need to maintain the cars, charge the golf carts the grounds crew uses to maintain the property, and charge their tools. The excess is stored there to power the lights at night, and when it’s at full capacity, we sell that power back to the grid. The concept is entirely scalable, so if it was cost-effective here, it would be even more so commercially.”
Isaiah absorbed the setup with growing respect. He wasn’t sure how much he bought Darren’s “this is for the good of MAS Oil” as much as it was something that was right. But whatever the reason, the idea was amazing. Darren clearly had a passion for the sub
ject. “And? Did it work?”
“Yes, we’re selling enough surplus electricity that we’re covering the payments on the loan for the array. And that doesn’t include the savings for the power needs it covers.”
“So it’s really a success.”
“Yeah.” It didn’t sound like Darren believed it.
“What? You said it worked.”
“It does, but Dad and I haven’t talked about it since it was installed. I doubt he knows the particulars.”
“You could talk to him today.”
“Um . . . yeah. I’ll see if he’s free later.” He turned without looking at Isaiah. “C’mon, let’s go.”
It didn’t take a mind reader to know Darren wasn’t going to talk to his father about it. The question was, why not?
Isaiah filed it away and followed Darren to the car shed.
Darren
It wasn’t Isaiah’s fault he picked at an open wound. He didn’t know.
Still, the reminder of his failed dream stung.
Hopefully a drive would help.
Lights flickered on as they entered the shed, glowing over a long row of cars. Most of the them were rarely used and sat under protective covers. Including the one he wanted for this particular drive.
He led Isaiah toward the far end of the row.
As he expected—hoped?—Isaiah looked in awe of the assembled automobiles.
Darren slowly tugged at one of the covers and walked around to the other side. Isaiah caught on to what he was doing and helped roll back the gray, custom-made protector. When they had it off, Darren folded it and put it on a nearby shelf while Isaiah examined the car.
“Wow.” He trailed his fingertips against the side of the car. “This is amazing. What is it?”
“A 1964 Austin Healey 3000 MK III.” And his favorite possession. “My grandfather bought it for me at an auction we went to on my eighteenth birthday.”
“Your birthday?” Isaiah’s impressed expression slithered away. “Gotcha.”
“Did you want to drive?” Darren offered in a stupid, panicked attempt to bring back Isaiah’s grin.
Why had Darren thought showing off a fifty-thousand-dollar birthday gift would land well? Like a lead balloon was more like it.
“Better not. Can’t afford a single scratch on this thing.”
Darren grabbed the keys from the holder. “I’d never make you pay for . . . Come on, can we go for a drive?”
Isaiah frowned at him.
“Please come with me?”
Isaiah looked away, but opened the door. Darren slid behind the wheel and, once they were belted in, put the car in gear and slowly nudged them out of the shed. Had it been a bit warmer, he’d have suggesting removing the top, but the weather and Isaiah’s suddenly frosty demeanor made it best to leave it up.
He drove along roads that he’d known his whole childhood. Nothing had really changed—a new sign here, a different mailbox there—but it felt alien.
Isaiah stared out his window, and Darren left him alone.
Fifteen minutes later they arrived at their destination.
“Valley Forge?” Isaiah glanced at him after they passed the welcome sign.
Darren nodded, but didn’t trust himself to speak just yet. He wanted to park first.
Isaiah sighed. “What’s the purpose of this drive?”
“Can it wait until we get where we’re going?”
“I just want to know what we’re doing.”
Darren angled toward the side of the road.
“What are you doing?”
Darren pulled over and slowed to a halt. “I don’t want to drive if we’re going to argue.”
“Who said we’re arguing?”
Darren delivered Isaiah a look, and at least Isaiah had the grace to wince at his lie.
What to say?
How to say it?
Darren rubbed his thumbs over the steering wheel. “I’m sorry for being a tool. This car is my favorite thing I own and I wanted to show you. Stupid oaf that I am, I didn’t think how it might come across. When I realized what a dick move it was I didn’t know what to do, so I asked if you wanted to drive. It wasn’t meant to make you feel uncomfortable.”
Darren searched Isaiah’s face. His cheeks were gently flushed, and he struggled to maintain eye contact.
“I don’t want to tiptoe around, though. I’m not ashamed of my parents or my family, and I’m not going to apologize for being rich. I’m also not trying to rub your nose in it. If it seems I’m flaunting something, I’m sorry. I’m really not trying to do that. I’m just . . . I guess I’m not doing anything except being who I am. I’m seeing I’m not the most sensitive person, and I’m sorry.”
There it was. It either fixed things, or ruined them beyond repair. Whichever, at least he’d addressed it. Hopefully Isaiah accepted it, but he didn’t count on it. Maybe some divides were too wide.
Isaiah
What did he say to that?
Darren hadn’t been a tool. Not in the slightest. If he were honest, Isaiah had tried to be offended, hoping it would turn him off Darren. Instead the guy did the decent thing and apologized for something he needn’t.
Worse, Darren had shared something special and Isaiah had tossed it back at him like a grenade. He hadn’t wanted to, but given he didn’t fit the requirements Darren’s mother set out, it seemed a mistake to get too close.
But this sucked. Darren had shared things with Isaiah he probably hadn’t with anyone else. Who else had been to his home to see the practice room, his music choices, his car? From what he’d said, no one. And the one person he took a chance on kicked him with both feet for no real reason.
Isaiah swallowed, unable to stand how sad Darren looked. “I’m sorry. I . . . you didn’t do anything wrong, Darren. This was all me.”
“No, I could have . . . should have been more sensitive to—”
“Nope.” His gaze locked with Darren’s. “Let me own this one, okay? I’ve got this fight or flight mentality where rich kids are concerned. I overreacted. You shouldn’t apologize for your family, just as I won’t for mine. I guess it’s a bit of a double standard. I want you to respect my situation, but you need to hide yours. That’s not right.”
Darren looked whipsawed. “I, um . . . don’t know what to say, other than I appreciate that.”
Caught in the moment, Isaiah almost blurted out how sorry he was for forcing Darren to compete for this scholarship. But he wasn’t sorry. His only regret was Darren got hurt by the complaint.
“I shouldn’t treat you like the rest of the campus tools. You know, like the one who harassed the shit outta Jack.”
Darren sucked in a sharp breath. “Um . . . well . . . actually I was friends with Harper. Last year, when he was being a dick to Jack. I wish I wasn’t, but I don’t want you to hear it from someone else.”
Darren was friends with that jerk? “But Jack said you helped him.”
“At the end. Before that, I let it happen.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure why.” He shook his head. “That’s not true. I was trying to fit in. I was in the closet, trying to be who I was supposed to be, and Harper’s father knew mine. When I got to Harrison, Harper sponsored me for Pi Kappa Phi and I just fell in with him. I should have had more of a spine and stood up to him sooner. At the very least, I should have stepped away from him sooner.”
“Actually, I meant why did you turn on Harper and help Jack?”
“It was the right thing to do.”
Isaiah smiled. “You said that about helping me.”
“Because it was.”
God. Why were things so complicated? In a perfect world, he’d have leaned over and kissed Darren. Long and hard. Tongues sliding together as Isaiah squeezed Darren’s nape and pulled him closer. Then he might have dragged him into the back seat . . . if the car had a back seat.
But his world wasn’t perfect, and he couldn’t do that without muddying things worse than they were a
lready.
“Did you want to drive?” Darren’s voice broke his train of thought.
“What?”
Darren smiled shyly. “I asked if you wanted to drive.”
Was he serious? “You’d let me drive your hundred-thousand-dollar sports car?”
“Fifty. It’s not worth a hundred K.”
He gnawed his lip. “I’d love to, but . . .”
“But nothing.”
“Darren . . .”
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to own anything that can’t be used. That’s what museums are for.” He opened his door, keeping his attention on Isaiah. “Besides, it’s pretty empty here. You’ll have a chance to get a feel for the car for a bit before we hit the main road. C’mon. Switch places with me.”
Darren exited before Isaiah could protest again. He did want to try driving a classic Austin Healy, but—
“Stop mind fucking this,” Darren said with a grin as he opened Isaiah’s door. “You won’t crash. It’ll be fine.”
Isaiah wished he had the same confidence in himself, but he couldn’t say no to Darren’s exuberant exhortations. A moment later, he found himself in the driver seat, grasping the steering wheel tightly with both hands.
“Hold on there,” Darren said, leaning over. For a moment it looked like Darren might kiss him, or bury his face in Isaiah’s crotch. But then he slid the seat belt across his waist and side and clicked it home. “There are no air bags or chest straps, so that’s all you got.”
“Why does it matter, if you don’t think I’m going to crash?” He winked, and Darren blushed.
“I won’t risk you.”
“What?”
“I don’t care about the car. I won’t risk you getting hurt.”
Isaiah’s heart banged about in his chest.
Darren cleared his throat and pointed toward the foot pedals. “The clutch is pretty loose, so don’t rest your foot on it.”
“Right.” Isaiah couldn’t stop grinning and focused on the manual transmission. His uncle had a Jeep with a stick and had taught him to drive. Said if he could drive a manual, an automatic was a piece of cake.
