by Tara Lain
Man, as if trying to save the company’s future wasn’t enough, needing to love by the company’s rules felt like a mountain of weight on his shoulders.
His mama could talk about love and happiness all she wanted, but the fact was, he had serious responsibilities. Maybe his mama and daddy fucked like rabbits while they were poor and foolish, but he was neither.
This throbbing desire to throw over his whole damned life and just have Harper verged on insanity. Nothing had prepared him for it. Okay, some yearnings and stolen moments suggested he might not be as straight as a line of code, but it wasn’t like he had a clandestine life where he dated men and had been covering it up. Whatever he’d been hiding, he’d also kept secret from himself.
Heat pressed behind his eyes as he remembered Harper declaring that he was Remy’s assistant and wanted to share his stress. What if I could have that support in my life—forever? Would that make me happy?
Shit, what’s the point of even dreaming?
HERE I am again.
Harper pulled his clothes from hangers and folded them into his suitcase. Young and dumb. That pretty much covered his self-description.
Everything Mama Two had said rang like a clear bell in his heart. He’d wanted to get away from Windy Pines, the home he said he loved. The anguish of not being able to find work for the people there had piled on his shoulders. Day after day, one company after another refused to consider building a new facility in the area. Refused to train people for work they desperately needed done because it was cheaper and easier to take it offshore. Every “no” had felt like somebody hit him.
And then came that night at the roadhouse.
Harper pulled another shirt from its hanger and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He still didn’t understand it, even though Mama Two had told him again and again that everyone was sorry. He could still hear the jeers of Josiah and Benson, men he’d never considered close friends but thought at least respected him. Men he’d tried to help. They’d yelled at him that he was a prancing fag who didn’t care about any of them and was just trying to rack up some points helping the hopeless hillbillies. That had been awful, but worse was that not one other person he’d worked so hard to help had taken his side. They’d stood there staring at him and never gave him a word or gesture of support. He’d staggered out into the night with the sneering voices yelling after him, and nobody had even come to be sure he was okay.
He sniffed again and stopped to blow his nose on a tissue.
“What’s going on?”
Sylvan’s voice made Harper jump a foot. “Oh God. I didn’t hear you come in.” He pressed a hand to his chest.
Sylvan crossed his arms. “No wonder with all the clanging of hangers and blubbering going on. Care to explain? Is it something you imagine I did?”
Harper shook his head. “No. I was remembering the incident in Windy Pines. I told you about it the day I said I’d move to California with you?”
Sylvan waved a hand. “Oh, you mean when those hicks called you a fag? What did you expect, Harper, from a bunch of untrainable troglodytes?”
“I expected them to act like my friends, I guess.” He sniffed.
Sylvan made a snorting sound. “I told them the only good thing to come out of all that work you did for them was to convince me that you were a good businessman as well as a great piece of ass and want to whisk you away with me.” He chuckled.
Harper looked up. “What?”
“What do you mean what? It’s essentially what I said to them the day before we left. They were treating you like their property or something, insisting you weren’t going to leave. That you were too committed to the town. I told them they were just your Boy Scout community-service badge. I mean, really.”
Harper’s whole spine froze. “You said that where?”
“At that community center place where you all hung out. I’d been waiting for you forever.”
“So they believed you.” Sweet Jesus, he couldn’t catch his breath. “They thought I didn’t care about them. That I…?” Harper stared into space. He didn’t know whether to scream or throw things.
“What do you think you’re doing with the suitcase?”
“What?” Harper looked up. “Oh, I’m leaving. I realize this was a mistake. I wanted to leave Windy Pines, I admired your ideas and was flattered you wanted me to go. I mistook it for love. I’m sorry. I’m going to go get a place of my own or—” He waved a hand. “—something.”
“Like hell you are.”
Harper looked up startled. “What?”
Sylvan had planted his legs apart, and his arms were crossed. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s happening at Merced.”
Harper shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.” He shoved the last pair of slacks into the bag and closed it.
Sylvan stepped closer. “Don’t play dumb. We talked about it. You’re going to tell me what Merced is planning and whether it’s successful so I can put it in my report.”
Harper shoved his glasses up his nose and frowned. “Like hell I am. I signed a confidentiality agreement when I went to work for Merced.”
“Oh come on. No one takes those things seriously. Besides, I’m your boyfriend. It’s expected that you’re going to share the stresses of your work with me.”
“I’m sorry, Sylvan. That’s not gonna happen.” He picked up the suitcase. “I’ll come by and get the rest of my things another time.” He tried to look confident as he walked toward the door.
Sylvan stepped in front of him. “Don’t be stupid, Harper.”
Heat rose up Harper’s neck and spewed out his mouth. “Stupid? I’m stupid all right, for doubting my friends without checking the facts. And I’m super stupid for believing you cared about me. But as of now, that stupidity ends.” He took a step and ended up only an arm’s length from Sylvan, who moved to the side to block him.
Suddenly, the heat reached Harper’s brain and exploded in a flash of red. I did this all to myself. I’m supposed to be this big genius, and I was taken by a smooth-talking con man. Harper stretched to his full height—inches above Sylvan—and looked down. His voice came out low, like a growl. “Do you seriously think you can stop me, Sylvan? You may be fatter, but I’m nineteen years younger and a whole lot fitter.” Harper clenched his fist and held it high enough to be visible.
Sylvan’s eyes widened just a bit.
“Want to test my theory? Because I’d love an excuse to pay you back for what you did to me in Arkansas.” He took a step forward, and this time Sylvan staggered back.
Harper walked past him, out the bedroom door, and toward the entrance.
Sylvan yelled, “I’ll ruin you. No one will hire you when I’m done. And believe me, I’ll ruin Merced too, with or without your information.”
Harper paused and looked back. “You don’t have influence with anyone I care about, so do your worst.” That was kind of true. As for the rest, Harper could only hope that Sylvan wasn’t big enough to hurt Merced too seriously. Oh crap, he wished he believed that. Turning, he hauled the suitcase to the front door.
Sylvan yelled, “Harper!”
He didn’t pause. Outside in the cool, dry dark, he pulled the handle out on the suitcase, rolled it to the Prius he’d parked by the curb, then dumped it in the back seat.
Before he climbed into the driver’s seat, he took one look back at the pretentious Mediterranean mansion. A lot of his favorite books were still inside that house, but he’d just have to give them up. A curtain moved, which probably meant Sylvan was staring out. Sweet mother of Jesus, how did I get so stupid?
But as he drove away, all he could think was, Oh man, I wonder what he’ll do to Merced?
REMY PULLED onto his mama’s street. It was family dinner night. She’d texted him and let him know that John Jack and Trudy were both home and Remy was expected, so here he was.
He clicked his remote to open the gate, then drove up to the door where Federico waited. Rem
y sighed and opened the door. “Hi.”
“Hi, Remy. You’re the last to arrive.”
“Yep.” He smiled tightly. “Story of my life.”
Federico snorted.
Remy walked slowly across the drive and up the steps. He used his key and walked in. The sound of voices came from the direction of the large living room.
Nigel came into the entry. “Good evening, Remy. Everyone’s here.”
“So I heard. Thanks, Nigel.” With an inhale, he walked into the living room—and stopped. Sitting on the couch between Mama and Trudy was Felicity.
Before he could catch his breath, she jumped to her feet and rushed over, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him on the lips. “Hi, honey. Poor baby, you look tired.”
He really wanted to say, “Who are you and what have you done with Felicity?” Instead, he gave her a lukewarm kiss back. “Yeah. It’s been a rough week. Sorry.”
She linked her arm through his and walked him over to the upholstered love seat, where she prompted him to sit and then snuggled next to him.
He glanced at Mama, who was staring at them with a small crease between her brows. Felicity stood again and hustled over to the bar cart like she owned the place, poured a glass of white wine, and brought it back to Remy as if she were some practicing courtesan.
Remy accepted the glass and started to ask John Jack about his trip, but there sat Felicity, and he didn’t want to talk Merced business with her there. The Economic Development Association event flashed into his mind, along with Mama saying Trudy would be away “shopping,” so he turned to her instead. “How did your latest fund-raising trip go, Trudy? Did you get new donors?”
Trudy beamed at him. “It was a fantastic success.”
Mama laughed. “She knocked ’em down like bowling pins. Tell Remy about that businessman who implied if he coughed up a hundred million he could get you in the bargain.” Mama rocked back and howled. “She handed him his hat and a pen in the same breath.”
Trudy nodded. “I explained I wasn’t available as a premium, but I’d be ever so appreciative of a few million to assure that girls and women around the world got to go to school.” Slowly she grinned. “Do you know that man flicked a finger at his assistant and the guy wrote me a check for ten million on the spot.”
John Jack gave her a proud smile. “So Remy. How are your plans going for—”
Mama said, “I think Nigel just signaled that dinner’s ready. Go ahead and get washed up and freshen your wine or drinks, okay? Remy, I’ve got sweet tea if you’d like some.” She gave him a smile and walked out of the room.
Felicity frowned. “What did she mean? You don’t like sweet tea. My God. All that sugar.”
“Kind of an inside joke. I found out that she cuts her sweet tea with plain black tea and told her she could lose her Southern street cred. Excuse me. I need to wash up before dinner.”
“Oh, okay.” She squeezed his arm. “Don’t be long.”
He walked from the room trying to make sense of the sudden flirtatiousness from the world’s least flirtatious woman. Peering toward the guest bath, he didn’t see Mama, so he trotted up the stairs. Sure enough, she walked toward him from the master suite.
“Hi, darlin’. I thought you might want a private word.”
He stepped close and said softly, “How did Felicity get here?”
“Good question. She called me and asked if this was family dinner night. She said you’d told her, but she forgot to write it down. Gushed a bit about how she hadn’t seen me in just days and days. I gather you didn’t say a thing about coming to dinner.”
“No. I’ve barely raised my head in two weeks. I haven’t seen her since the EDA dinner.”
“She must have panicked when she thought she was losing you. Maybe she’s more attached than you believed.”
“Maybe.”
“She’s right about one thing. You do look tired.” She stuck a finger under his chin.
“Was it my imagination, or did you divert John Jack from talking about the online ordering?”
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s easy to think of your girlfriend as family, but fact is, she’s a stockbroker. It pays to be cautious.”
“I don’t think she’d do anything underhanded, do you?”
“No, but what she learns could influence her stock advice. I know that’s no big thing. She’s just one person, but still.”
John Jack’s voice drifted up the open staircase. “Mama, where are you? Dinner’s ready.”
“Coming, dear.” She turned back to Remy. “If I can nudge John Jack to be careful what he says, I will. Otherwise, you just be discreet.”
“Okay, Mama.” Things were bad when his mama started getting paranoid.
Chapter Twelve
REMY AND Mama walked down the stairs and into the dining room. Felicity was already seated, as were John Jack and Trudy. Remy sat between Felicity and Mama, who took her place at the head of the table.
Nigel walked in with a tray and served them each a steaming bowl of potato leek soup. One whiff and Remy was back at Dizz’s with Harper across the table telling Remy about his sexual education.
Remy vaguely heard Felicity say, “So John Jack, how was the trip to Arkansas?”
“Craptastic. We had to close—”
Remy’s head snapped up. “Did you see the positive response to the new organic brands?”
John Jack looked confused at Remy’s interruption, but said, “Uh, yes. I saw that report yesterday. Good call. What prompted you to try it?”
Remy gazed at Mama who stared at John Jack and widened her eyes a little, making a quick glance toward Felicity.
John Jack frowned, looking confused.
Remy pasted on a smile. “Just the success of our previous organic brands. Thought we should extend on the trend.”
“Yeah. That makes sense. What about the on—ow!” John Jack twisted toward Trudy, who looked at him with big eyes.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, honey. Did I kick you in the shins?” She rubbed his arm as if it were his leg. “Bet that leaves a bruise. Sometimes I can’t get my own stilettos under control.” She laughed merrily. While John Jack might not have caught the meaning of Mama’s eye rolling, clearly Trudy had.
Remy glanced toward Felicity, who was frowning at the two of them.
Trudy grabbed John Jack by the arm. “Come with me, honey. I want to be sure I didn’t break the skin with my flying feet.” She practically dragged him out of the chair, but by this time, he’d probably caught on that she wanted to talk to him, because he didn’t protest.
At that moment, Nigel entered with a platter of roast chicken while Florence cleared the soup bowls.
Trudy stuck up a finger. “Be right back. Don’t wait for us.”
Felicity watched them go, then said softly. “Is everything okay with John Jack and Trudy?”
Mama waved a hand. “Oh yes. They’re happy as beavers in a dam these days. So tell us, Felicity, what should we be watching for in the markets?”
“Oh, well….” She looked like she hadn’t expected to be asked for investment advice by the Merceds.
Remy chuckled. “Mama, Felicity gets paid the big bucks for that kind of information.”
“Well, of course she does. My apologies, Felicity.”
John Jack and Trudy walked back in hand in hand. Trudy said, “No harm done. All’s well. I kissed it and made it better.”
John Jack gave a slightly dirty laugh.
Felicity was starting to look like she’d accidentally stumbled upon the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. She cut into her chicken and took a bite.
Mama introduced the subject of movies, and they all started talking about their favorites—except Felicity who just kept chewing and occasionally glanced at them like she couldn’t figure out why they’d waste their time so thoroughly.
Trudy said, “We did face one big, momentous question while we were gone.”
Felicity looked up immediately. “Oh, what was that?�
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Trudy grinned. “Avengers versus Justice League. Who would win?” She side-eyed John Jack playfully. “It’s ripping us apart. We’ll never agree.”
John Jack scowled ferociously. “Nobody can beat the Hulk, and even if they did, Thor’s a god.”
Trudy waved a hand. “Demigod. Barely better than mortal. You can’t believe Thor could defeat Superman. It’s never gonna happen.”
Remy laughed. There was a time his brother would never have been this playful. It was inspiring to see how much he’d been able to grow and change in his marriage. Love, like Mama said. The thought filled his head with pressure and heat.
John Jack waved a hand at Remy. “Come on bro, are you Team Justice or Team Avengers? You agree with me, right? Thor and Hulk would win.”
Remy shook his head skeptically. “No, I’ve gotta think nobody can beat Superman and Wonder Woman.”
Trudy yelled, “Yayyy.”
John Jack pressed a dramatic hand against his forehead. “Nooooo.”
Remy was on a roll. “Plus, I like the Flash. I mean he’s got sneaky skills.”
Trudy sighed. “And he’s absolutely adorable.”
“Yeah.” Remy nodded and took his last bite of chicken.
Things got quiet for a second, and he looked up. John Jack was staring at him. “You’re calling that geeky little fag adorable?” Then he dragged his eyes to Trudy. “Any Avenger could wipe him out with one hand tied behind his back.”
Remy’s heart beat too hard. The moment was like Harper’s story about agreeing with his best friend that the boy was gorgeous and being asked if he was gay. Remy kept eating, but he sensed more than one glance creeping his way.