by Lynn VanDorn
Ryan got out of the car, slammed the door, and went up to Patrick. “I just lied to my fiancée, my brother and his wife, and my parents. I told them that a friend I'd invited to the wedding was feeling very ill and needed to be taken home. I got Tyler to promise to keep his damned mouth shut. Now get in the car, Patrick. I am out of patience.”
Patrick took one last look at the approaching bus, gave it up for a lost cause, then got into the Porsche and pulled the door closed. The seat enveloped him in undeserved luxury.
“Buckle up,” Ryan snarled at him, throwing the car into first gear with more force than was necessary.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Home,” was the short reply, and Patrick wasn’t sure if he meant his apartment or Ryan’s condo.
He should have gotten on the bus.
“What did you think coming today would accomplish?”
Patrick shrugged, and then realized Ryan couldn't see him while he was driving. “I honestly don't know. Please take me home. I think I'm done.”
“No, you're not.”
Patrick looked at Ryan. He stared straight ahead, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Yeah, I think I am. Look, if you give me a good recommendation, I'm sure I can find another job with hours that will work with school. Or I could maybe wait until next semester to look for something and then try and take more evening classes so working would be easier. I have some money saved. I'll figure it out. It'll be for the best.”
“The best for who?” Ryan asked.
“Both of us. Hell. Ryan, there is no us. We have no future. You expect me to continue being your dirty little secret after you get married? I won't. I can't. I've crossed too many lines already, but that's one step too far. Let's end this now.”
“No,” Ryan growled.
“What do you mean, ‘no’? You aren't the boss of me.” Great. He'd reverted back to junior high taunts.
“Actually,” Ryan said, “I am.”
“You know what I mean. Ryan, why are you making this difficult? You know as well as I do that this had to end at some point. Now is as good a time as any.”
Ryan said nothing and drove on. Not to Patrick’s apartment, either. Instead, they ended up at Ryan’s condo. Ryan parked under the building and looked at Patrick.
“Are you coming up or what?”
Patrick could get out of the car and walk to the nearest EL station. It wasn't that far away. Or he could go up and let Ryan fuck him, which he clearly wanted to do. One last time. Then he would go home and draft a letter of resignation.
“One last time,” he said.
Ryan gave him a stormy look but didn't argue.
They rode the elevator up in silence, Ryan next to him nearly vibrating with some emotion Patrick couldn't identify. Lust? Rage? Frustration? Impossible to tell. Patrick reached out a hand to touch him and Ryan caught it. “No,” he said. “Not here.”
He stalked down the hall to his door, Patrick following. He should've been worried, but instead all he could feel was a rising anticipation. Stupid, stupid anticipation.
Patrick thought he'd take him in the living room, but Ryan surprised him by tugging him down the hallway and into a bedroom. Ryan’s hands tore at his suit and tie, undressing Patrick while he remained in his wedding tux. “I want you,” he said, kissing Patrick’s shoulder. “I need you,” as he caressed his bared hip.
Not enough. Not nearly enough, Patrick thought. I should have taken the bus. Then Ryan pushed him onto the bed and knelt between his legs, still fully dressed, even the boutonniere of coral roses in his lapel unmussed. Ryan took Patrick’s cock into his mouth and Patrick stopped thinking for some time.
Later, Patrick lay next to Ryan on his bed, both naked and sticky and neither caring enough to do anything about it.
“In theory, I'm still angry you crashed my brother's wedding,” Ryan said. “In practice, not so much.” He leaned forward and kissed Patrick’s neck.
“I promise I'll never do it again,” Patrick said with a bit of a grin. I am going to miss him so much. Miss this, too. Not just the sex, but also this closeness afterward when Ryan removed more than his clothing. He was bare to Patrick, everything on display, and when he left, Ryan would close back up again, tunneling into himself like he was one of those Russian nesting dolls. Patrick felt a spasm of regret at that, but he couldn't lose himself to allow Ryan freedom. It wasn't fair and it was slowly killing part of him. It was why Tyler and Josh’s words had resonated so strongly with him. He needed to leave, and soon, before it was too late.
Ryan was quiet for several moments. “What do you want from me?” he asked.
“I want you to let me go.”
“No.”
“Yes, dammit. Your brother was right. I can't stay.”
“Fuck Tyler,” Ryan growled, again uncharacteristically obscene.
“No, thank you,” Patrick said. “I think he's psychotic. But still right. I should have never come back here. I'm an idiot.”
Ryan’s arm tightened around him. “My idiot,” he said.
Not for much longer, Patrick thought absently. His mind had snagged on Tyler, and seeing him today without the blue hair. It reminded him of something he'd meant to ask Ryan before they'd become distracted. “Speaking of Tyler—”
Ryan groaned. “Do we have to?”
“Speaking of Tyler,” Patrick continued, propping himself up on an elbow and looking down into Ryan’s face, “I never told you, but before I interviewed to work for you, I had a terrible crush on him.”
“What?” Ryan looked nauseous.
Patrick laughed softly and kissed Ryan’s perfect brow. “I didn't know he was your brother until long after you and I started… this. Months before I applied at your firm I saw Tyler in Blood and Water and I fell in love with that character he played. He was so beautiful and sweet and sad in that movie. I wanted to tell him that there were other girls out there for him. Other boys, for that matter.”
“Oh, really?” Ryan did not sound amused.
“Then I met you.” And you became the sun in my sky, damn you. “One day at work I came across a contract of his and I asked about it. ‘Oh, didn't you know? The boss’s brother is an actor.’ So that came as a bit of a shock. An even bigger shock was meeting Tyler in person. Do you have any idea what it's like to be caught sucking the dick of your famous crush’s brother?”
Ryan smirked at him. “No. I can't say that I do.”
Patrick frowned at him. “It's awful. I don't recommend it. First, I was drowning in embarrassment, then I saw what he was like and that was a rude awakening. All dregs of that crush, gone, smashed into smithereens the second he started screeching at us.”
“I know there's a point that you're getting to,” Ryan said, going into lecture mode, which was something he did in moments of uncertainty, “but you’re being too reticent. You need to be more concise in your speech, Patrick. State your point, add follow-up evidence as necessary. Don't give extraneous information if it will distract from your objective.”
Patrick smacked Ryan’s shoulder. “Cut it out. I told you all that so this would make more sense. That man you called Uncle Mike looks exactly like Tyler plus thirty years. It was the first thing I thought when I saw him. I knew him instantly as a relative, but he was really outspoken to me that we were in the same boat, meaning uninvited, and I'm curious as hell. Why was he crashing the wedding? Is he related to your mother?”
Ryan barked out a laugh. “Good lord, no,” he said. “The uncle’s an honorific. Mike isn't a relative, he used to be one of the attorneys with the firm. He left years ago to start his own practice. He's an old family friend, but he and Dad had some sort of falling out around the time Mike left. Anyway, he's had his own problems. His wife died recently from cancer that she'd been fighting for years. My mom used to be close with her, at least before she moved with my brother to California. As for why Mike crashed the wedding, I've no idea. I assumed he'd been invited when I saw him. And I have no clue what any of t
his has to do with Tyler, who you apparently have a thing for.”
“Had. Past tense, and you being jealous is pretty damn ironic.” Patrick leaned down to kiss Ryan’s frowning lips, wondering as he did so when the last kiss would come, and whether he'd know it when it happened. The idea made him feel lost, so he pushed it away and kissed Ryan again. “Are you positive this Mike guy isn't a relative of some sort?”
“I am not jealous of Tyler, and Mike is not a relative. Mom’s family all live in the San Francisco area to the best of my knowledge. That's where my parents first met. Mike was born and raised in Chicago and my mother is an only child. The resemblance is just in your imagination,” Ryan’s voice trailed into uncertainty. He closed his eyes. “Hell,” he said after a while.
“Ryan?”
Ryan combed a hand through his hair. “He does look like Tyler, doesn't he?”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah, he does. I mean, Tyler’s your brother, but if anything, that makes you less objective. You see your baby brother when you look at him. I see the actor I fantasized about for months. I was a little obsessed with him for a while.”
“How obsessed?” Ryan scowled at him.
“Not that obsessed. I fell into your bed easily enough, didn't I?” Like a stupid lovesick fool.
“Yeah,” Ryan said. “You’re right, though. Mike does resemble Tyler.”
“I think it's the other way around,” Patrick said.
“Well.” Ryan was quiet for some time, thinking, and Patrick left him to it. “This just complicates everything. Patrick, you can't quit. I won't accept it. I need you.”
Patrick frowned at Ryan. “No, you don't. Use one of the other secretaries. I am not necessary.”
“Yes, you are. Who else can I trust?”
“Trust with what?”
Ryan grabbed the sides of his face and brought him close enough that their noses nearly touched. “Oh, nothing. Just that I'm pretty sure I know why Dad hates Tyler and my mother and Uncle Mike.”
Christ. It was bad enough that he was fucking the boss, now Patrick was being dragged into family drama as well. “And? So, Tyler’s probably your half-brother. Does it really matter at this point? And what does that have to do with me?” Other than that I'm doing a great job of keeping up your family traditions, of course. At least neither of us can get accidentally knocked up and pop out a bastard.
“It would matter a great deal to my father. He is not a forgiving or understanding man. I need you to help me find out if he was the one who released the video to spite Tyler.”
Patrick groaned and knew he wasn't going anywhere. Not yet, at any rate.
Chapter 31
Josh Gets a Lecture from His Father
Saturday, October 1st, 3:00 p.m.
A poorly secured parking lot
Evanston, IL
Josh stood next to Tyler in his building’s parking lot, looking at his car in dismay. Someone had slashed tires and keyed the paint. “Really? All four? Those tires were almost new.”
“Did they get any other cars?” asked Tyler. He started looking around at the other cars in the lot.
Josh joined him. “Doesn't look like it.”
Tyler bit his lip and looked sick. “Do you know if there’s any surveillance on the parking lot?”
“I'll talk to security and see.” He looked at his watch. “It'll have to be quick, though. We need to get to the museum. Can you get a car to pick us up while I talk to them? Then I'll call my insurance company.”
“Fuck fuck fuck,” Tyler muttered as he got his phone out.
Josh handed his tux and gift bag with Rachel and Brad’s present to Tyler, then jogged back to his building and reported the damage done to his car. As it turned out, there weren't any surveillance cameras on the lot, but the building’s security was supposed to check on the cars once every hour and that had been done, according to their log books. Even so, no one had seen anything. Either the security was shit or the damage had been done since the last check at two in the afternoon. Possible, but unlikely. Josh cursed to himself and made a note to complain to the building superintendent and bring up security at the next condo association meeting, for what good that would do.
“You wanna call the cops?”
Josh looked at his watch again. “I've got a wedding that I have to be at. As it is, I should’ve already left.”
“No sweat, Dr. Rosen,” the security guard on duty said. Josh thought his name was Chris. Or maybe Craig. “We'll call the cops for you, show them the car, have them start a report, and give them your number. You can talk with them later.” He lowered his voice. “This has happened before. Had a lady whose boyfriend was stalking her, kept fucking with her car. We finally caught him in the act. If this wasn't a one-time random act of vandalism, we’ll get the asshole. Don't worry.”
As if. Josh had to wonder if this had happened before to someone else why they hadn't tightened security then. But there was no point yelling at Chris/Craig, and he had to get going.
“Fine, call the cops, tell them I'll be available tomorrow to talk with them. I'll call my insurance company, too, and have them come out tomorrow to look at it.”
“Sure thing, Dr. Rosen. We'll take care of it.”
Josh left the building to see Tyler standing next to a taxi parked out in front of the building. He held open the back door of the car for Josh. Josh bent to kiss him before sliding into the backseat.
“Thanks for getting us a ride.”
Beside him, Tyler bit his lip again and looked preoccupied. “I'm sorry it was necessary,” he said.
“Don't be sorry. It's not your fault.”
Tyler turned his head and looked out the window. Josh wanted to ask what was bothering him, but decided to let Tyler tell him when he was ready. The last thing Josh wanted to do was interrogate his new and now official boyfriend in the backseat of a taxi right before his sister’s wedding. He took Tyler’s hand into his and said nothing.
Tyler curled his fingers against Josh’s and held on tight all the way to the museum.
–—
Saturday, October 1st, 3:50 p.m.
The Field Museum: before the wedding
Chicago, IL
“You’re late,” Josh’s father said.
“Only by twenty minutes,” Josh replied. He kept his tone bland and hoped his dad would let their lateness go without an argument. “The wedding doesn't start until six. That's over two hours from now.”
“On this day, of all days, I'd think you could bother to be here on time. Your mother has enough to worry about without adding a tardy son on top.” His eyes flicked to Tyler and then to their joined hands.
Tyler bristled. Josh could sense him puffing himself up like an angry Oliver. If he'd had fur it would've been standing straight out, his ears laid flat. Josh squeezed his hand.
“We were late because—” Tyler started to say. Josh tightened his grip hard enough that it must have hurt, but it did stop Tyler talking.
“Because I had car trouble. We had to call for a taxi. Sorry, Dad, but we're here now with plenty of time before the wedding, so no harm done.” He offered his father a smile which was not returned.
Josh glanced down at Tyler, who was giving him an “I will expect an explanation later” look.
“If you'll excuse us, I'd like a word with my son. Alone.”
Tyler further stiffened. “Sure. I'll go find my brothers.” He dropped Josh’s hand from his and stalked off.
“Your mother has been worried sick. The least you could have done was call ahead to say you would be detained. Clearly you were… distracted… and couldn't be bothered.”
Josh flinched but kept his silence. He didn't want to get into a fight with his father today of all days.
“This is your sister's big day and your mother wants everything to be perfect. We asked you to be here at 3:30. Not 3:40. Not 3:50. And here you are, not only late, but prancing in with that… that… boy.”
Josh felt himself ice over. Retrea
ting behind chilly reserve was the only way he knew how to cope with one of his father's lectures. Each time he was eight years old again and in trouble for breaking his great-grandmother's vase, the one she had brought with her when she'd come to Chicago from Germany, or thirteen and having to explain an unprecedented C in history.
“That boy,” Josh said woodenly, “is one of the other groomsmen and has just as much right as I do to be here. Being Brad’s brother and all.” And we were not fucking prancing, Dad.
“And you see nothing wrong with your… association?”
“No, not particularly.”
Josh’s father curled his lip. “Can't you see how inappropriate he is for you?”
“Why, because he's a man? I'm gay, Dad. You seem to keep forgetting that.”
His father gave him an annoyed look. “That boy is far too young for you, Joshua. He's mentally unstable, and he's done nothing with his life but squander every opportunity he's ever been given. Look at his brothers. Ryan’s an attorney and now heads Chadwick and Chadwick. Brad’s a surgeon working through his residency. And Tyler’s an actor.” Josh’s father sneered the word, saying it like someone might say prostitute. “He has no future; can't you see that?”
“What?” Josh had been sure his father wouldn't be happy about Tyler because he was male. Not approving of Tyler because he was Tyler hadn't occurred to him. Not that it mattered to Josh. He was aware of their age difference (and had come to terms with it), had been witness to Tyler’s questionable mental stability (which he felt was probably no shakier than his own), and he didn't want Tyler because of his future earning potential. Hell, had Tyler been penniless, things would have been easy for them. All he'd have to do would be to plunk Tyler down in his home and let him be that homemaker Josh’s father wanted him to marry. But Tyler wasn't penniless or without resources, talent, or a career. All the things his father held dear, Tyler had in spades. His father was just too pigheaded to see that right now.
Josh let the litany against Tyler flow over and past him. It was a defense he'd been employing against his father for as long as he could remember, and it helped him keep both the peace and his sanity. Then his brain snagged on something his father was saying and he snapped back to attention.