All the Way to Shore

by CJane Elliott

  “HELLO, THIS is Sophia.”

  Anthony wiped the nervous sweat from his brow as cars whizzed past in the busy intersection—he was uncomfortable enough in the frigid weather—and plunged in. “This is Andy Arrington, better known as Anthony Vallen. Please don’t hang up!”

  Sophia’s sigh whooshed in his ear. “I’m not going to hang up. You guys were jerks to do that to Marco, though.”

  Looking both ways, as it would not do to be run over by a Boston cab right when he and Sophia were making up, Anthony stepped into the crosswalk. “I know, I know. Believe me, I’ve been beating myself up over it ever since. But I miss you.”

  “I miss you too, damn it.”

  “Have you forgiven me? And Jonathan?” He pushed open the door to a bustling diner, figuring his cell phone call wouldn’t be too obnoxious in the din.

  “I guess. I’ll totally forgive you if those two fools in love finally end up together. Have you heard what they’re doing?”

  Anthony smiled and settled into a booth to dish. “Doll, they are such cuties! Sending each other presents with no notes. I kind of love it.”

  “Me too. But tell me, when is Jonathan going to make a move beyond anonymous gifts? Because that’s what Marco’s waiting for.”

  “Is he? I kind of wondered about that. Jonny has this list he’s working on of all these bold life moves, and he’s still convinced he needs to do more of it before he’s ready to approach Marco in person.”

  “That’s silly. Marco is so in love with him. He just wants to be with him.”

  “Believe me, I’ve tried to tell him. But right now we’ve got another matter to discuss. Has Marco told you what Frederick Vallen is trying to do?”

  “He mentioned something about Frederick being a shit about his bonus, but he didn’t get into the details. Typical of my brother not to want to bother me. What’s going on?”

  “Hold on.” Anthony gave his coffee order to the waitress, then returned to the call. “Okay, doll, so here’s what’s up.” He explained the situation to Sophia, holding the phone away from his ear when Sophia’s angry exclamations got too piercing.

  “But that’s blatant discrimination and retaliation! It’s unethical, and I’m pretty sure it’s illegal, although I have to do some research on morality clauses and the Massachusetts state laws on LGBT rights.”

  “Isn’t there a federal law against LGBT discrimination? Jonny said something about it.”

  “Yes, but that only covers federal employees. That’s why I need to look into what protections Massachusetts has. Either way, Marco needs to take this to court.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’s headed in that direction. But it would mean having the details of their liaison come to light.”

  “Do you know how Jonathan feels about that?”

  “Not great, but he’s willing for it to happen, for the principle of the thing. Here’s why I called, other than to throw myself at your feet and beg abjectly for your forgiveness.”

  “Silly.”

  “Always. I want to brainstorm with you about ways to get Frederick to back down and give Marco his money without having to take it as far as court.”

  “Hmm. A trial would be the best scenario, to expose and fight the discriminatory way Frederick’s using the morality clause. But it would be costly and time-consuming, drag Jonathan and Marco’s relationship through the mud and exposure by creepy lawyers, and Marco might lose anyway.”

  “You make it sound so appetizing, doll.”

  “Right? Let me think on it. I’ll talk to the folks here at Lambda Legal, and I’m also going to call some people I know at the Human Rights Campaign. They know all about applying pressure to homophobic corporations, calling them out. Because it’s Vallen Industries that’s doing this, even if it’s Frederick’s petty, vindictive idea.”

  “Good. Can you come to Boston soon? One thing Jonny’s doing is going out with me once a week so he doesn’t become a hermit again. We could all meet to go dancing.”

  “I’ve missed dancing with you, Andy! And I’m still going to call you Andy, if you don’t mind.”

  “I kind of love it, sweetie.”

  “Okay. Let’s plan a rendezvous.”

  MARCO’S JOURNAL

  IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times. Isn’t that how A Tale of Two Cities begins? That’s how my life has been since getting back. I came home betrayed and hurt, devastated really, by losing my chance for love. Now I feel the love from Jonathan and for him growing stronger every day, with every gesture he and I make. It’s kind of magical. I put on the pendant today. For good. Still biding my time and letting him set the pace, which is so not like me. But it’s the right thing for Jonathan.

  The worst? Fucking Frederick Vallen, the bane of both my and Jonathan’s existence. He’s decided to get on his high horse and push some homophobic agenda disguised as maintaining moral standards for the company. Bottom line: he’s intent on screwing me out of my severance package as punishment for me getting involved with Jonathan. It’s not going to hold up in court, if it gets that far, but I’ve got Walker all over it. Too bad Vallen’s going to shit on the great job I’ve done with turning his company around. But if that’s the way he wants to play it, I’m going to enjoy taking him down. I refuse to let Frederick have the final word on this one and fuck with my reputation.

  I need to be with Jonathan soon. I need the soothing he brings me. I’m tired of battling with creeps like Frederick.

  Gratitude: There’s hope! Jonathan is going to be in my life. He hasn’t given up on me. Thank you, God. Grazie for second chances. The painting looks great on the living room wall. Thank you for art and beauty and Bunny and Sophia. And Jonathan. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for Jonathan.

  Chapter SEVEN

  MARCO PUT down the report his attorney Walker had provided him and rubbed his forehead. “Eyewitnesses? On the cruise? What kind of scum does Frederick have to be to want to drag all this through court? And about his own son?”

  “The worst kind. How set are you on taking this all the way?”

  A flash of anger tightened Marco’s jaw. “Completely. I’m not letting that prick get away with this. It’s outrageous! And he’s fucking with my reputation. That’s unacceptable.”

  Walker templed his fingers as he thought. Marco appreciated his approach. He could say what he wanted in the heat of the moment, but he could count on Walker to offer a cool head and temperate advice. “I don’t know. Frederick is not being logical about this. He’s clearly out for blood. His lawyer wants to settle, and that’s what I advise you to do.”

  “Not if settling is an admission of guilt, as though I’ve violated some fucking morality clause!”

  “Well. In some mindsets, you absolutely have. I don’t need to point that out to you, I’m sure.”

  Marco inclined his head in acknowledgment, as a twinge of guilt from his pious Catholic past shot through him. Ridiculous. “So what do you advise?”

  “I advise settling out of court. I can talk to Vallen’s lawyer and find out what terms they’re talking about. I’m not sure if Vallen is going to be satisfied with screwing you financially, or if he’s really set on taking you to court over it. One thing, though. If it goes to court, you and Jonathan will be exposed and fair game for whatever stuff they want to dredge up.”

  Jonathan’s open, honest face came into Marco’s mind. He couldn’t do that to him. Jonathan didn’t deserve to be taken apart publicly. But to settle? To allow Vallen to win his petty grudge-fest? To admit “guilt” about violating a morality clause and allow that black mark on Marco’s reputation to stand?

  “Let me think about it.”

  Walker nodded. “Fine.”

  “How much time do we have to respond?”

  “We should get back to them within the week.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you.”

  Marco left Walker’s sleek downtown office and drove to his gym. He needed to work off the stress and think about what
he was going to do. Sophia had called him last night, all up in arms, and the last thing she wanted Marco to do was settle. Settling or dropping the matter—and the subsequent hit to his reputation—went against everything in Marco’s nature.

  He got on the treadmill and, after five minutes’ warm-up, set it to a punishing pace. Pound, pound, pound. The sweat dripped off his chin, and he welcomed the burn in his muscles, the focus of his breathing, keeping the blood pumping.

  Memories rose of being taunted at the public school in his tough neighborhood for being a scrawny Italian-American kid. Never having quite enough to eat. His father, drunk and red-faced, screaming at Mama while Marco and his siblings hid in a closet. Wearing hand-me-downs that were patched and out of fashion. Being marked out as an oddball.

  Marco ran, trying to outrun the memories. Life had begun to improve after the old man died, when Marco was no longer preoccupied with dodging his drunken rants. Then he’d transferred to a different high school after getting into an accelerated program for gifted students from underprivileged backgrounds. He’d had to get up super early to catch the first of three buses that took him across town from his poor neighborhood to one of the tony parts of the city. The kids in his new high school came from affluence, and Marco began to perfect the art of blending in. It helped that his shoulders broadened and he was growing into his full height, and with the money he made working as a checker in a neighborhood grocery store, he got a decent haircut and bought some stylish clothes secondhand at the local thrift store.

  As his popularity grew, Marco wielded it to gain more stature. He ran for a seat on the student body council and got elected. With leadership came the kind of recognition that filled an empty place inside him. As the second youngest in a loud family, Marco was nobody special at home. In his neighborhood, he was just one more Italian kid being taunted and called slurs like “guinea” and “garlic breath.” He’d seized at the chance to reinvent himself in high school, and he’d never looked back. Marco wanted to be special. He never again wanted to experience being a nobody.

  Fast forward to today. The Marco Pellegrini he’d become was anything but a nobody in the Boston business circles he occupied. He was admired, and his methods of turning companies around were studied by others. He’d been interviewed for the Harvard Business School’s magazine. His reputation was impeccable. He prided himself on that.

  It pissed him off that Frederick Vallen wanted to force Marco to leave under a dark cloud and cheat him out of his severance package. Marco either accepted that and walked away, or fought it—with the resulting publicity that going to court would garner and the impact that would have on Jonathan. Either way, his reputation would never be the same.

  He walked into his building, not expecting anything from Jonathan so soon, but the desk clerk called him over and handed him a small package in a padded envelope. Upstairs on the sofa, Miss Bunny purring on his lap, Marco extracted the gift and tore off the wrapping to find two CD box sets with the collected piano works of Rachmaninoff and Debussy. This time a small card in an envelope stared up at him. He opened it with trembling fingers.

  Dear Marco,

  Music is what brought us together. I’m learning the Rachmaninoff 3rd for you. Concert in my cottage TBA.

  All my love,

  Jonathan

  He put on La Mer and closed his eyes, letting himself be filled—by the music and by Jonathan.

  A FEW days later, Marco sipped some water from a glass Walker’s secretary had set in front of him, then fixed Walker with a steady gaze. “Tell Vallen’s lawyer we’ll settle. Try to get as much as you can out of them, but I’m going to let go of taking it to court.”

  Walker nodded. “I think that’s a wise choice.”

  In the lobby, Marco called Anthony.

  “Hello?”

  “Anthony? This is Marco Pellegrini.”

  After an audible gasp, Anthony’s light and pleasing voice tickled his ear. “Marco! Oh my word, to what do I owe this honor? And before you go on, thank you so much for calling me when I thought I was dead to you forever!”

  “No problem. I’m over all of that. Listen, how is Jonathan?”

  “He’s fabulous. Truly. You would be so amazed and proud at how he’s taking on his life, Marco. He’s bought a townhouse in Boston, and he’s doing all kinds of other things. He’s flung himself back into it all—and it’s because of you and that cruise, I swear.”

  Marco smiled. He’d forgotten Anthony’s gossamer personality. “I’m glad. You know that we’re….”

  “Exchanging gifts? It’s to die for, sweetie! I’m getting diabetes here from all the sweetness!”

  “Well, don’t hurt yourself. Look, has Jonathan found out what Frederick is doing to me?”

  “Babe, we’re all over that. Jonny is appalled. And so am I.”

  “I’m going to settle. Let Jonathan know he’s not going to have to face a court hearing.”

  Anthony gave another gasp. “You’d do that for him?”

  “Of course. I’ve got a new set of priorities lately, thanks to Jonathan.”

  “That is so romantic. That does it! I feel I must warn you—I’m wearing a pink tux to the wedding. And it might clash with Sophia’s maid-of-honor dress, but that’s just too bad.”

  Marco laughed. “I don’t suppose you’d tell Jonathan I love him?”

  Anthony’s tsk was loud in Marco’s ear. “You two are impossible. The answer is no. Sophia and I are sick of being your go-betweens, you know. You owe us many drinks once we all get back together.”

  “Do you think we could persuade Sophia to move to Boston too?”

  “Ah, good plan. I’ll work on her.”

  Marco hung up and walked up the street, suddenly feeling lighter than he had in months. The idea of settling with Vallen and leaving all that past behind had him standing in front of a future that was tantalizingly empty, just waiting for whatever he and Jonathan decided to create.

  MARCO’S JOURNAL

  I HATE to back down. But so what, really? I’m done playing with the wolves of Beacon Hill. Especially fuckers like Frederick Vallen. That’s no longer what I want my life to be about. I want to give back and be with the man I love. And fuck what the rest of the world thinks of me.

  Gratitude: For life constantly renewing itself and unfolding the next adventure. I’m grateful to learn that I’m not afraid of people thinking ill of me. My reputation isn’t the most important thing, not anymore. I’m grateful for love and the chance to love one good man completely and do good things in the world with him. Grazie, Dio, per l’amore. And for Bunny the magical cat and for Sophia. And even Anthony! Thank you for second (third, fourth, fifth) chances.

  Chapter EIGHT

  “BABE, ALL I know is Marco caved.” Anthony huffed as he jogged down the beach alongside Jonathan. Cantata played in the sand up ahead.

  “Caved?”

  Anthony nodded. “As in, he’s not challenging Uncle Frederick. He’s going to let it go.”

  “But why?” Jonathan noticed his fists clenched inside his gloves and relaxed them. “That doesn’t sound like the Marco Pellegrini I know.”

  “Don’t you see? He’s meaning to protect you from having to go through a court hearing. He loves you so much he’s letting Uncle Frederick screw him out of his severance package so you don’t have to go through that. It’s so freaking romantic!”

  “But I don’t want him to settle! Come on, Tony, help me think of a way to force Father to stand down. Do the rest of the board members know what he’s doing?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  They reached their turning-around point. “Cantata! Here, girl!” Cantata ran back to them, wagging her tail. “Good girl.” They started jogging toward the cottage, Jonathan’s muscles still tensed with anger. “I think the board needs to know about this—and if they don’t do anything, the world needs to know.”

  “The world?”

  “Yes. And it’s not going to put Vallen
Industries in a pretty light.”

  Anthony laughed. “I love it when you get all warrior-like, Jonny. Sophia’s been checking out the possibilities and wants us on a conference call tomorrow. We’ll figure out a plan.”

  “OKAY, LET’S get her on Skype.” Anthony fiddled with the computer while Jonathan put Cantata in the other room so her barking at the screen wouldn’t disrupt the call.

  Storm winds howled outside, but all was cozy in the cottage. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, warming the room. Jonathan set two steaming mugs of tea on the table, well away from his laptop.

  “Hello, you two!” Sophia’s smiling face filled the computer screen.

  Jonathan was transported back to the cruise ship and the afternoon they had first seen her standing with Marco. Quiet gladness at being reunited hummed inside him, while Anthony put his on loudspeaker.

  “Dollface!” Anthony jumped up and down. “I’m beyond happy to see you!”

  Jonathan leaned into camera range. “And hello to you from the other offender.”

  Sophia gave a dismissive wave. “All is forgiven, you know that. It’s great to see you both.” She moved her computer so that a man in a suit was revealed to be sitting beside her. “As I mentioned, I’ve asked Raz Tandigan to be on this call with us. He’s from HRC and has some ideas about how to get the matter resolved in Marco’s favor.”

  After exchanging introductions and greetings, Anthony’s of course a flirtatious one, Raz leaned forward. “So. Sophia has apprised me of the situation, and here’s what I think you can do. Sophia tells me Vallen Industries is about to have their annual board meeting. Yes?” They nodded. “And both Marco and Mr. Vallen will be attending?”

  Jonathan cleared his throat. “Yes. Marco will be presenting his report on his tenure at the company. He’s produced a significant profit for Vallen.” Pride swelled in him at Marco’s magnificence.