Mad & Marvelous

by Elizabeth Varlet

  “When was the last time you let your heart rule your head? You’re always so logical, practical, and responsible. Normal people go wild once in a while.”

  Rafe had gone wild. It was that lack of self-control that had landed him in this mess in the first place. “No offense, but that’s the worst advice ever.”

  Mark shrugged. “I never claimed to be a guru. It seems to me love should make us crazy. It should be wild and thrilling and everything you can’t control.”

  Rafe crushed a form in his fingers as he stood. “That sounds like a nightmare.” His hard-earned discipline was the only thing stopping his anxiety from boiling up and ruining the rest of his life. He needed it.

  Without those bands around his pain, he’d shatter.

  “Well, anyway, you can’t stay here forever. The cleaning service has already complained.”

  “I’ll go home once the paperwork is in order.” He straightened the piles by tapping them on the desk, and then lowered himself into his desk chair.

  “Have you ever been diagnosed as a workaholic?”

  “Not officially, now leave me alone so I can work.”

  “You mean wallow.”

  Rafe narrowed his eyes at his friend. Mark held both palms up. “Leaving.” At the door, he turned. “The Sassy Boyz are filling in for Ramona tonight. She’s caught the virus going around. Hop will be dancing.” And with a challenging wink, Mark made his exit.

  Rafe dropped his head to the cold metal desk and banged it hard. He’d been stupid to start a relationship with someone who worked at the club. Now there was no getting away from it. He’d see Hop every night and be haunted by those eyes, those legs, those lips.

  A zombie, Mark had called him. And he could understand the comparison—he was hollowed out, a shell of the man he’d been a month ago. He missed color. He missed chaos.

  It was everything that had made Hop special.

  It had been marvelous the way the world spun with dizzying speed when he was around. Rafe had become addicted to the whimsy, the unpredictable nature of an extravagant personality. But Hop was right, it had never been real.

  They’d both held themselves back.

  Rafe wiggled the mouse to bring his computer back to life. What was done was done. They both should know better than most the past couldn’t be rewritten. The only thing he could do now was move forward.

  The ring of his phone exploded the silence of the room like fireworks.

  Oh, thank fuck. Finally, Prince called.

  “Mr. Marson, I’m going to make this short because I’ve gained an ounce of respect for you during our dealings. I will not aid in earning profits for a corrupt man like Roland Lockwood. I’ve spent my life fighting against those types of people. I will not allow my name to earn him a single cent.”

  “Please, I’m desperate.”

  “Yes, but what I don’t know is why?”

  “I hate them as much as you do, trust me. Probably more—”

  “Impossible.”

  “Regardless, your party is my ticket out.”

  “After Gigi told me who funded you, I did some more digging. Turns out you’re the golden boy protégé, so why should I believe you?”

  “And according to all accounts you’re a racist. You should know better than most how cloudy reality becomes when people more powerful than you want to spin it.”

  Prince was quiet a long while. “Touché, Mr. Marson.”

  “All I’m asking for is a chance to prove myself without him holding me back. He’s been bankrolling me since I was fourteen. Haven’t you ever made a decision that you later regretted? It took me too long to realize what I needed to do, but I’ve almost saved enough to repay his investment and cut ties with him for good. You can help me with that goal. If you have such a problem with people like them, wouldn’t helping me be a good thing?”

  “You’re a remarkable salesman.”

  “Does that mean you’ll host your launch at Switch?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  It was another day before his mother finally came home. He’d stayed in his room listening to her shuffle around the apartment until finally she’d knocked on his door. Now they sat at the kitchen table together, quiet but no longer distant.

  Hop pushed a sausage around on his plate. “Why didn’t you tell me Roland sent us money?”

  “How did you—?”

  “Rafe thought I knew.”

  She picked up her fork but didn’t use it. “It’s a long and very complicated story, honey.”

  “That’s what you always say.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Did you love him? Did he love you? If not, why does he support us?”

  “Of course I loved him.”

  “But he’s so horrible.”

  “He wasn’t always. When he was young, he was carefree and kind. He had the biggest heart and was so generous.”

  “What happened?”

  She cast her sad eyes down. “It’s that world they live in. It corrupts even the most innocent. That’s why I couldn’t marry him.”

  “What?”

  “When I found out I was pregnant, I left him. I’d seen what happened to children raised in that environment. By that time, it had already started to change your father. I couldn’t let you grow up like that.”

  “You left him?”

  “It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made, but I still think it was the best one. Look at you, you are brave and unique, kind and sweet, adventurous and loving. You don’t care about possessions. You’re not selfish or petty.”

  Not like them, she meant. He pictured Malcolm’s face, how he’d sneered and brandished his wealth like a weapon. He never wanted to be like that, but all this new information turned everything he’d ever thought about himself, about his parents, on end.

  “Wasn’t he angry?”

  “Maybe a little, but mostly he was sad. We loved each other so much, it just wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Is that why you never got married?”

  “I know it might be hard for you to understand, your generation is so free with their hearts, but I could never love another man. Not when I’m still in love with your father.”

  He rubbed his chest. No, that wasn’t hard for Hop to understand. It was the same for him. He was Rafe’s forever. All of a sudden, he sympathized with Roland.

  “You broke his heart.”

  “I did. For you.”

  “No wonder he hates me.” It all made a weird sort of sense now.

  “He doesn’t hate you, how could he? You are the product of our love.”

  “Mom, trust me, hate is probably too kind a word for how he feels about me.”

  “You’re wrong.” She stood, went into her bedroom and came back with a shoe box. “These are all the letters he’s written to me since you were born. There are twenty-five, one for each birthday.”

  Hop shook his head. “Then how could he do it? How could he use us to control Rafe? How? If he loved you and doesn’t hate me, how can he threaten to leave us destitute? He’s a bad man. You might know a different side of him, but he’s not that boy anymore. He’s not. He’s not. He can’t be.”

  “Calm down, what do you mean threaten us? What are you talking about?”

  Watching the box of letters like a snake might jump out to bite him, he told his mother everything. How his father had charged Rafe with keeping Hop out of his hair, how, when it hadn’t worked, he’d used the money to keep Rafe away, how Rafe had lied to protect them—all of it. And with every word, he watched the devotion in her eyes crystallize into outrage.

  * * *

  The thing about watching someone from afar for almost twenty years was that you learned a lot about their habits. Namely, when to catch them
off guard and alone.

  After the conversation with his mother, Hop felt armed and ready to go to war.

  He wouldn’t be a pawn in this man’s games any longer. And neither would his mother...or Rafe. He pulled the box of letters from his bag. Snowflakes landed on the lid, melting quickly. Roland had used their love as a weapon and now it was time to throw it back in his face. Hop tucked the box away and tugged his scarf tighter.

  Across the road was the tailor Roland used for all of his suits. The last Monday of every month, he held a standing appointment to get fitted personally by the owner. He always went alone and left promptly at noon.

  Hop checked the time on his phone.

  11:58.

  He crossed the road and stood outside the building as the minutes ticked down. All the things he’d wanted to say to his father over the years were the subtitles of his life, but now there was only one.

  He no longer had any power over Hop.

  Roland Lockwood stepped out of the old store, placing a black fedora on his balding head. His long winter coat brushed his ankles as he walked toward his car, toward Hop.

  Their eyes met, Roland’s steps faltered.

  “Hello, father.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “You’re a man of habit, if not integrity.”

  Roland’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  “Turn up your hearing aid, old man.”

  Sputtering, Roland sidestepped Hop, but Hop blocked him.

  “Let me pass.”

  “No. You’re going to listen to me once in your miserable life. After that, we’ll forget we share the same blood.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

  Hop retrieved the box and pulled out a letter. “Remember these?”

  Roland’s expression transformed into something closely resembling remorse. “Why do you have those? Is she okay?”

  “So you aren’t just a heartless bastard, shocking.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Is extremely disappointed in you. After all these years, she’d cherished her love for you, even nurtured it on her own. Can you imagine how distraught she became when I told her what you’ve done?”

  “What have I done except support you both?”

  “Actually, no, you haven’t.” He opened the box and pulled out a key and waved it in the air between them. “You think she’d take your money when your wealth was the reason she left you in the first place? Is it even possible for someone like you to understand such a thing?”

  “She didn’t use it?”

  “Not a penny. Every month she withdrew your deposit and put it in a safety deposit box right under your nose. She didn’t want to have easy access to it. Can you even comprehend that kind of self-control? Or the fucking sacrifices she made, how hard she had to work to maintain our lifestyle?” He put the key back inside and closed the lid. “I’m not as honorable as my mother. I’m not giving it back to be altruistic. I’m paying off a debt.”

  Roland squinted. “If she never used it, there is no debt.”

  “Not mine, Rafe’s.”

  “Rafe Marson?” His bushy brow rose in surprise.

  Hop nodded and shoved the box into Roland’s chest. “Take it all back, you greedy son of a bitch. We don’t need it. We never have. Now you have nothing to lord over us or Rafe. Go wipe your ass with hundred-dollar bills and leave us alone.”

  “I have never bothered you.”

  “You bothered me every single day of my life, but it was my own fault. I was dumb. All I ever wanted was your attention, some sort of connection, but you couldn’t be bothered. You sent your errand boy instead, and when he couldn’t control me either, you threatened all of us with that.” Hop tapped the box. “Rafe lied, do you know that? I never went out of town to study. He was just too good a guy to let you destroy us. How he stayed so honest while living in your world for so long, I will never understand.”

  “I gave him everything. I made him what he is.”

  All at once, Hop felt sorry for his father. “You really believe that don’t you?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “If it was true, he’d be the mirror image of you and I never would have fallen in love with him,” Hop said. “You didn’t make him, you used him. There’s a difference.”

  “If it weren’t for me he’d never be at the top of his field, he’d never have opened a club before he turned thirty. He’d never have become such a success.”

  “It’s true your money made those things happen faster than they might have, but I have no doubt Rafe would have done it all with or without your influence because he’s got something you don’t: sincerity.”

  “Sincerity? How naive.”

  “And that right there is why he’ll always be a better man than you. I’m setting him free. Let’s see how high he climbs without you holding him back.”

  Hop tucked his hands in his pockets and brushed past Roland on his way to the crosswalk. Those were the last words he’d ever say to his father, and he was fine with it. Confronting the man was like pressing the reset button on his life. From that moment on, he wouldn’t let anyone make him feel ashamed of who he was.

  Not even himself.

  * * *

  Rafe was in a meeting with his attorney when his phone rang. Caller ID showed a dreaded number.

  “Excuse me a minute, please.” He stood and left the room. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Lockwood requires your presence at his residence in one hour.” His secretary’s voice was shrill as ever.

  “I’m busy.” He could hear her shock through the speaker.

  “Well...um...”

  Had no one ever refused the directive before? He took pity on her. “I can be there in two. Lockwood will just have to wait.”

  “Oh, he won’t like that.”

  “Too bad. I’m not bringing his fucking wine this time either.” He clicked off, feeling bad for taking it out on her. She was only his mouthpiece.

  It took another ninety minutes to wrap things up with his lawyer and it still wasn’t to Rafe’s satisfaction. At least he’d made sure his family wouldn’t suffer, thanks to Prince.

  He called Mark on his way out. Unlike Rafe, Mark was maintaining a positive and hopeful mood in spite of the load of shit hanging over their heads.

  “I’ve been called to the principal’s office,” Rafe said, pushing the front door open and shielding his eyes from the glare.

  “Seriously? Does he have bugs planted in our office?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “This timing is a little too perfect.”

  “I’m actually surprised it didn’t happen sooner. It was only a matter of time before everything came out. Malcolm isn’t known for keeping his mouth shut.”

  “Yeah, he was talking about burning Switch to the ground when the bouncer threw him out.”

  “I’ll be back after I deal with this.”

  “Or you could go home.”

  “Bye, Mark.” He hung up when he reached his car. Even though nothing was settled, Rafe felt no rush this time. Nothing pushed him to be punctual. There was no impulse toward duty.

  Faced with such crushing defeat, Rafe was finding it hard to care about anything. He was an empty shell and he couldn’t bring himself to do more than get through each day.

  He’d lost Hop for nothing.

  There’d never been a chance to sign Prince. There’d never been a light at the end of his tunnel. He’d done it all to get out from under Lockwood, but in the end, he’d had everything he’d needed at the tips of his fingers. It just took a sacrifice he hadn’t wanted to make, until the one thing he truly needed was ripped away from him.

  After that, losing complete control of the club hadn’t hurt as much as not hearing Hop’s voice every day.
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  Even driving slower than usual, he still arrived five minutes early. He had too much pride to drive around the block out of spite, so he parked and made his way to the penthouse.

  “Fred,” Rafe said in greeting when the butler opened the door for him.

  “It’s good to see you, sir. Can I take your coat?”

  “No, I won’t be staying long.”

  “Very well. Mr. Lockwood is in his study.”

  Rafe knew the way. Gripping the handle of his briefcase tighter, he crossed the library and knocked on the study door.

  “Enter.” Roland eyed the coat and briefcase. “Going somewhere?”

  “Let’s make this quick, I have things to do today.” Rafe didn’t bother sitting down.

  Roland’s brows rose and he steepled his fingers. “Have you been conversing with my son?”

  “Which one? You’ll have to be more specific. Or don’t you remember you have two?”

  Jaw twitching, Roland’s eyes narrowed. “My firstborn.”

  “Oh, you mean Hop? Have you forgotten his name? Yes, he works for me. I’m sure Malcolm told you all about it.”

  “What does Malcolm have to do with it?”

  Rafe paused. “He didn’t tell you Hop was a dancer at Switch?”

  Roland picked up the intercom on his desk. “Send Malcolm to my office, now.” He slammed the receiver down. A minute later, Malcolm entered the room, saw Rafe and stopped.

  “Dad—”

  “Shut up.”

  Malcolm’s mouth snapped closed, his angry gaze shot to Rafe.

  Roland stood and stalked between them. “It seems you’ve both been keeping secrets from me. I do not tolerate lies.”

  “I never lied,” Malcolm said.

  “How long have you known your brother worked for Rafe?”

  “He’s not my brother. He’s a mistake that should never have been born. He’s a freak, Dad. A faggot.”

  Roland slapped his son across the face. “I told you to shut up.” His attention turned to Rafe. “What about you? You’re not going to tout your honesty?”

  “Oh, I’ve lied to you multiple times over the years, but you already know that or I wouldn’t be standing here.”

  He seemed to consider Rafe for a moment. “Now is your chance to clear the air, then. What happened?”