by Jaime Reese
Sean stilled, then returned his focus to Vann.
“I’m Shaw. And you are?”
“Sean Dempsey. Is that your mail cart outside?”
Vann sighed, obviously sensing Sean’s need for a power play. “Yes. You’re in the design department. Right?”
Sean looked from Vann to Drayton. “How…did you know who I was?”
“Mail. Remember? I know every name here.”
Drayton bit his lip to hide a smile, thankful Vann held his own.
“Are you finished here? I have a meeting with Dray.”
Vann inhaled sharply and stilled. Something visibly shifted in him and dissipated the bravado of the old Vann that had appeared only moments before. He swallowed heavily and nodded curtly before excusing himself and walking out of the office, closing the door behind him.
Fuck.
Sean turned, hiding a smile.
No way was this little motherfucker going to think he’d won one over Vann. He just wanted to scream from the rooftop of the building to his entire staff and let them all know he and Vann were partners, in every sense.
“First,” Drayton began, not giving Sean a chance to speak. “If you ever disrespect anyone in this company like that again, you’re fired.”
Sean’s eyes rounded. “But—”
“Second. Whenever you plan to enter my office, you knock.”
“But you were expecting me and Mia wasn’t at her desk,” he said in a rush of words.
“Then you sit and wait for her. Third. I don’t appreciate you eavesdropping on my conversations,” Drayton said with a pointed glare. Sean could deny it all he wanted, but that was the only way Drayton could assume he would have heard Vann using his nickname. “Do you understand?”
Sean quickly nodded.
“Do you have the prototype ready?”
Sean gaped. “Not yet.”
“If that’s the only update you have, we’re done here.”
Sean nodded and turned to leave.
“One more thing.”
He turned and waited.
“You address me as Drayton or Mr. Shaw or don’t address me at all. Understand?”
Sean nodded quickly and left his office, scurrying away.
Drayton pulled his cell phone out of his top drawer and quickly typed in a text. Come back to my office.
He waited for a moment, tapping the edge of his phone until Vann’s response came through. I have work. You have a meeting.
Drayton quickly typed a reply. Meeting’s over.
He didn’t have to wait more than a few seconds before Vann’s response appeared. Work’s not. We’ll talk later.
Drayton sighed. He wasn’t playing this game. He dialed Vann’s number and waited.
“Not now,” Vann answered after a few rings.
“He had no right to speak to you like that.” The silence on the line was unsettling. “Vann?”
“I didn’t like him calling you Dray.”
Drayton closed his eyes and parted his lips on an exhale, his heartbeat kicking up its pace at the possessiveness in Vann’s tone. “No one calls me that. I’m assuming he overheard our conversation.”
“Shame the fucker didn’t hear the part about me blowing you.”
Drayton bit his lip, enjoying the spike of jealousy a little more than he should. “It’s you, Vann. Only you. Never forget that.”
Vann’s sigh echoed through the line. “Yeah, I just wish you didn’t have that little fucking shark circling the water around you. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
“How does it make you feel?”
“How about I show you this weekend?”
Drayton chuckled.
“You won’t be laughing when you can’t walk Monday morning. I’m the poster boy for sexual frustration.”
“I want our weekend. I want time where it’s just you and me. And, Vann?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you. Only you.”
Vann sighed again. “I hate it when some asshole makes me question that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I hear you have a fan club. I’m…not sure how I feel about that.”
Vann chuckled. “This is the part where I tell you I want you and only you.”
“We’re hopeless.”
“Good thing we’ve got each other then.”
Drayton smiled. “You always have me.”
“Right back atcha. I’ve got to go. I still have a lot of floors to run through and I don’t want to fuck this up.”
“See you tonight.” He disconnected the call and took a deep breath. He sat back in his chair and swiveled around to look out the window. He needed their weekend together as much as he needed the air in his lungs. Soon, Vann would officially be free, and they could be together the way they were meant to be—without worry that the slightest misstep would ruin their chance at forever.
Maybe then some of the never-ending tension thrumming through his body would ease.
Vann swept his hand across the page, sketching out the darker lines in his drawing. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip as he added a little shadow, taking advantage of the textured paper in the sketchbook Drayton had given him. He hated accepting gifts, but he couldn’t resist the itch to draw again or deny the excitement in Drayton’s face when he actually accepted the present.
He glanced at the random pencils he had gathered from Matt and Julian on the coffee table, searching for a harder lead tip that gave him the fine point he needed for the detail he wanted to add. He’d never had real art pencils to work with, but standard pencils of different brands and types always seemed to work just fine for his sketches. He snatched another pencil in his opposite hand and brought the sketchbook higher on his knees, switching from one pencil to the other until he had the right balance of shadow and detail he wanted. He straightened his arms, holding out the drawing in front of him to inspect the details.
He held back a smile.
Fucking perfect.
He grabbed a different pencil from the table and added a few more accents. He glanced up at the wall clock. His pulse quickened, realizing Drayton was due to arrive in about ten minutes. He finally let the smile slip, thankful he always seemed to lose track of time when sketching. He made a mental note to draw something to help pass the time every night before Drayton arrived. It sure beat wearing out the floor in the house with his pacing while waiting for his arrival.
“Shaw, someone’s here to see you,” Ryan called out from the front entrance.
Vann closed the sketchbook and set it on the table. Maybe Drayton had his driver bring him to the house today instead of driving himself and parking in the back lot? He jumped off the couch and headed to the front door, chuckling, wondering if Drayton’s early arrival meant he was just as anxious for their time together. It was as if they’d gone back in time, getting to know each other and uncovering which old quirks were still in place and discovering new ones. And he wouldn’t deny he had fallen in love with Drayton all over again.
The smile melted off his face and his heart punched against his chest. Eyes that mirrored his shape and color stared back at him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice harsh and his tone a little gruff from holding back the storm of memories flooding his mind.
Every hit.
Every yell.
Every disgusting name and word spewed at him.
“Is that any way to speak to your father?”
The years of alcohol had obviously taken their toll. His coloring carried a slight yellow hue that hadn’t been there before, and his teeth had somehow grayed over the years, darkening his sneer. The wrinkles in his face had deepened and strands of silver now colored his hair, but he still carried his height and strong frame with intensity. It hadn’t been a childhood nightmare. His father was, in fact, the tall, strong monster he had remembered and had hoped to forget.
“What do you want?” Vann asked, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.
; “I heard you were out. I wanted to see my son.”
“Shocker. I remember you kicking me out on my eighteenth birthday. Why the sudden interest?”
The older man cackled and the scent of alcohol on his breath flowed across to Vann, roiling his stomach with disgust. The man took a step forward, crossing the threshold of Halfway House. “Because I’m not an idiot, boy.”
Vann stared, frozen in place. He clenched his fists tighter, and his teeth hurt from biting down so hard.
His father took another step forward. “I heard your…boyfriend is doing well,” he said, unable to hide his distaste.
Vann refused to respond.
“Aren’t children supposed to take care of their parents when they get older?”
“Aren’t parents supposed to love and protect their children?” He rocked back on his feet, needing to distance himself from the monster attempting to provoke him.
“I let you live under my roof. I did my part. Now you need to do yours.”
Always looking to get something for nothing. “I don’t need to do shit for you.”
“Then I’ll go to him. I’ll threaten to tell the world about you…your history. A man like him can’t have that…stain…on his shiny shoes.”
The drumming of his heart thumped in his ears and vibrated in his skull. His fingers numbed from the tight fisting of his hands. He didn’t want this asshole in his life anymore. His or Drayton’s. He didn’t even want him anywhere in the neighboring dozen zip codes. Each deep, measured inhaled came out as a shaky exhale.
“Stay the fuck away from him.” He wanted to swing his fist into that smiling face. He wanted to pummel him until the rage lessened.
Even though his father was still tall and strong, Vann was bigger than he used to be as a kid and had more physical strength than he had ever had during the beatings he’d taken as a child. His size gave him the power to intimidate with the best of them. It was why he had worked so damn hard in the yard every day. He needed the facade of physical strength while inside—not to actually fight with the inmates but to keep them at bay and avoid any physical altercations. He had fought a man inside who used to eat the fingers of his victims and won. It landed him in the infirmary for two days. But dammit, he’d won and had gained the fear of his fellow inmates. And he’d kept all his fingers to prove his victory.
Things were different now. Without question, he could fight his father back and not get knocked on his ass anymore. And he had learned early on the importance of having a strategy. Being a bratty street kid fighting a few bullies was easy for him. He had simply channeled his anger toward his father onto the guys who’d threatened Dray. And bullies traveled in packs like wolves, but alone or in pairs, their strength weakened, and that was when he’d attack.
Rumors had spread quickly to avoid the twitchy street kid with the always present black eye. They’d thought the bruises were from his many fights. They’d been right. But they’d had no clue those battles had happened at home, with this same son of a bitch standing in front of him now. The one remaining asshole on the face of the earth who shared his blood and should have had a predisposition to give a shit about him. But all he’d ever cared to do was remind him how humanity would be better off without him, how much he hated him, and how much he’d prefer his son would crawl into a hole and disappear.
He’d fought back as he always had in life when someone threatened to beat him down. But he had never had the strength to physically fight off his father for any length of time other than the first few shoves or punches his way. But he could do it now. He was stronger. And he had a hell of a lot more endurance to last several rounds in a fight without batting an eyelash.
The need to unleash the years of hate raced through his veins. He could easily nip the silent exchange between them and wipe that fucking smirk off his father’s face. He could do it. He didn’t question it. The power and strength coursing through his body let him know one punch would pop the cap off a lifetime of resentment and release a downpour of hits that would finally end this.
It would be easy.
It would only take seconds.
But he…couldn’t.
He knew better than to reduce himself to the asshole’s level and fall for this trap. One punch to this son of a bitch would land his ass right back into the hell he had managed to escape. And this son of a bitch wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth a second of sacrifice in that hell.
“Go ahead. You know you want to,” his father taunted with a sneer.
Vann wouldn’t cower. He wouldn’t back down. Even if his mind yelled at him to back away, his body vibrated with the need to stand his ground. To defend his honor, however minor it seemed to be. It was his honor, and he had worked damn hard to guard the humanity he knew ran in his veins. He wasn’t like this son of a bitch. He’d fought with every ounce of strength in his soul to never be a reflection of this sad excuse for a man. Like father like son…my ass.
He couldn’t surrender.
He wouldn’t surrender.
But even he had limits, and he was at the brink of losing all semblance of control. He needed a barrier. Something that would shield him from the molten rage threatening to unleash a lifetime of hate onto this monster. Vann did the only thing he could do in that moment.
“Julian!” he yelled, never letting his gaze shift from the same almond-shaped eyes staring back at him. He refused to back away, controlling each slow inhale and exhale of breath as it pushed through his lungs.
Quick, strong steps pounded down the stairs. Julian stood at his side, watching them both as if trying to decipher the exchange.
“This is…my…father,” Vann said through clenched teeth, fighting the bile churning in his stomach.
In an instant, Julian signaled something over Vann’s shoulder then turned to face the older man. He pressed a single finger to the center of the asshole’s chest, forcing him to take a step back. “Out. Now. Willingly or with force. Your choice.”
His father flinched, shifting his focus from Vann to Julian. “You can’t—”
Julian leaned forward, steady as always although probably suffocating from the stink of alcohol and tobacco emanating from the asshole’s body. “Our house. Our rules. The moment you passed that threshold, the rules shifted in our favor. The police will be here any second.”
His father chuckled. “You think you scare me? You look like you need a good ass whooping to put you in your place. Are you afraid? Is that why you need the police here? For protection?”
“The call is to save you. You’re in my house. And I have every right to protect my home. You’re the one trespassing.” Julian straightened to his full height and crossed his arms, widening his already broad stance. “You hit me or Shaw, your sorry ass goes to prison. And that’s a promise. I’ve got a roster of attorneys and detectives who will make that happen in a heartbeat. So I’m begging you,” he said slowly, barely above a whisper, in a steady, level tone. “Hit me. Hell, just touch me.”
Vann’s father scrutinized Julian, probably trying to assess the sincerity of his words. He looked away from Julian, returning his focus to Vann.
“You’re a stupid, worthless shit. You’re a murderer, and just because you’re out, doesn’t mean that will ever go away.”
“Get. Out,” Julian said, voicing the short words with each exhale.
Vann clenched his fist and bit back the words threatening to spill, locking his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. He wasn’t going to let this monster bait him. But he wouldn’t deny the words stung.
“You killed your lover’s father like a fucking savage,” he hissed.
Vann refused to move or respond. If his father sensed the sting of his words, he’d go in for a second helping.
“This is your last warning. Get the hell out,” Julian said through a clenched jaw.
A smile slowly pulled on the older man’s weathered cheeks, his focus pegged on Vann as he spoke. “You killed that man.” He quieted for a moment or maybe it was the p
ounding of Vann’s heart thumping in his ears that muffled the sounds around him. “And you killed your mother.”
Julian grabbed the older man by the shirt collar and pushed him out the door, dragging his feet along the path to the fence.
The older man fought the hold as he continued to yell over his shoulder. “She gave you life and you thanked her by killing her when you came into this world. You killed her and you killed that man. You’re a murderer and you won’t be anything more. Ever!”
Vann stood still, trying not to let the words reach his soul, even though they had already pierced his armor and seeped into his limbs, weakening his spirit. He stared out into the front yard. His father thrashed in Julian’s hold, fighting to break free. A police car pulled up and abruptly stopped, flashing its lights, reflecting a glow of red and blue across the taller buildings. The uniformed officer cuffed his father and pushed his head down and into the back of the police car.
A sudden exhaustion seeped into every pore of Vann’s body. He turned around. He didn’t want to see the flashing lights, he didn’t want to see his father banging his head against the side window of the squad car, and he didn’t care about the second police car that drove up.
He ducked his head and slumped his shoulders as the poison of the words infected his soul and multiplied the mass of his muscles, weighing him down. He walked down the hallway and up the stairs, the heaviness of each step adding an ache to his legs as his stride slowed. He entered his bedroom and screwed his eyes shut, trying to control the raging war in his mind. He hated this.
Doubt. Hate. Weakness. All things he despised, gushed inside him.
He walked to the corner of the room and leaned his back against the wall, sliding down until his ass hit the floor. His chest rose and fell with each forced breath through the heaviness pressing his sternum as he replayed the words.
Over and over again.
He hated this shit. He hated the pain, the sting, and the weight of the words that had hit their mark too many times in his life.
He wished he could ignore their toxicity.
He wished he could focus on the positive.