33 Degrees of Separation (Legacy)

by Rain Carrington

  Ian looked at the carpet and got very quiet. Pat had a sneaky feeling and it was crawling up his back like a spider with thirty pointed legs. “Ian?”

  “I got my trust fund the moment I got through the initiations and became a Grail.”

  The confession wasn’t easy for him, Pat could tell, but it was also late in coming. Pat knelt on the floor at his feet, still unable to see his eyes so he pinched his chin and coaxed, “Look at me?”

  With tears in his eyes, he did, and Pat saw the pain there.

  “Ian, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s bad enough my father had money and gave me everything. Now, to know that it was the Grail that had to okay my inheritance, if that’s even what it is? How can I live with that?”

  “H-how much?”

  “Twenty-seven million. Each degree I progress, I will get more.”

  “Jesus. Ian…”

  He pushed Pat away and got up from the bed, pacing around the room quickly as he yelled, “I knew it! I knew you were going to hate me! Well, don’t worry, Pat, I fucking hate myself. I hate myself and the money and all of it!”

  Pat grabbed him, forcing him to stop, but like a child, he kept turning his head away as Pat tried to speak to him. “Ian! Ian, stop!”

  “What?”

  “I don’t hate you! It’s part of all this, and damn it, Ian, don’t you see this can help us?”

  Slumping, Ian let himself look into Pat’s eyes, then one of his brows rose, and Pat felt himself being scrutinized. “How?”

  Pat practically slung him toward the bed and again, sat on his across from him. “I’m sure they can trace it, if you’re using cards. Taking out cash is risky, but we can do it, if we’re careful. I’ll ask a couple of my people how best to do it where forensic accountants will not be able to trace it. We can hire some people, that we may need now and down the line. Hackers, security, whoever we may need to pull this off and to keep you safe.”

  “Really? So, it’s a good thing? You’re not pissed?”

  “No, I’m not pissed, Ian. Well, yeah, that you kept it from me. You have got to trust me, even if you think I’ll be angry.”

  “I’ve trusted exactly one person in my life, Pat. It’s not like it comes easily for me.”

  Ian wasn’t the first that felt that way. Pat knew many with that same philosophy. Trust wasn’t given easily and was broken even easier. “Then I’m the one that is sorry, Ian. If I haven’t earned just a little of your trust yet, then I shouldn’t be doing this. If you don’t trust me, just a little, we could both be hurt.”

  His heart went right to his throat and throbbed there as he watched Ian’s hand slowly move from between his knees outward, reaching for him. Ian took his hand and held it sweetly, gazing at him with trust, yes, but more than that. “I do, Pat. I can see you want to help me. I will never lie to you again.”

  Like a vow that had nothing to do with the Grail or what they were planning, Ian’s voice gave way to a secret that was bigger than that. Something was happening between them, and it was more dangerous, but desperately desired.

  There was a pull then, like magnets, and he wanted to lean in, kiss him and hold him, but Pat knew better. Love, lust, emotion, all of it could damage the thin fiber of trust that they’d begun to have, and it could cloud what they needed to do. Any of them could get one or both men killed, and Pat wouldn’t be able to live with himself if anything happened to Ian because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

  He was the one that let go of Ian’s hand, letting it fall pitifully back to Ian’s lap. “Let’s get to work and forget about this for a little while.”

  “Yes, let’s. If we don’t…”

  Smiling without realizing he was going to, Pat agreed, “If we don’t…yeah…”

  Pushing the sexual tension aside, the anxiety of the situation, as much of it as he could, Pat set his mind to task. “Okay, you need to pull your old self out of the trunk and shrug him back on. You need to be cocky and confident. When you go speak to your father, and you have to go the minute we get back, you cannot look away from him. You look him dead in the eye and tell him your terms.”

  “My terms?”

  “Yes, Ian. Tell him that you’re fine with it. You had to wrap your head around it, but you want the money and influence that comes with it. Tell him a little of the truth, too. It will not seem genuine if you cave to everything.”

  “Like? Like you being my boyfriend?”

  “Yes, that’s one. You’ll tell him that like the rest of them, you will have your side piece. You’re not going to give up on being gay, but if you have to, a few years from now, you’ll do the wife and kid thing, for your place in the Grail. Also, now this is important, tell him this as if you were telling him in confidence. You will not hurt others if you can help it. If it’s unavoidable, that’s one thing, but if you have any more tests that will cause you to hurt others, that you need him to tell you right away.”

  “He won’t suspect that something is up when I say that?”

  Pat shook his head, leaning in a little. “No. If you were to cave on everything and tell him you’re ready to do anything they want, that would be suspicious. This? Having your own rules, and wanting what you want, that is more like you. Right?”

  He smirked for a second then it was gone. “Yeah. I guess it’s me to a T.”

  “Okay, then. Set down your rules that shouldn’t clash with theirs. Tell him that you want as much money as you can get, so you want to advance in the Grail like he did, quickly.”

  Pat waited while Ian took that all in, letting out a long, heavy breath. “This is complicated. I am okay with facing him head on, but he’ll see that I hate him right now.”

  “Good. It would look fake if you went in there kissing his ass. He sat back and watched as you held a gun to your head. Anything less than contempt for him and he’d see right through you.”

  “I’m scared, surely, but I’m more angry. If I put that anger into this, I should be all right.”

  “I know you will be. I see you, Ian. I know you could do anything you set your mind to.”

  “Pat…what if I do get sucked into all this? The money and power, and all that? I don’t want to be that person.”

  Pat engulfed Ian’s hand with both of his, and promised, “I would never let that happen, but I don’t have one ounce of worry it will. I said I see you, Ian. I see your heart and I know you’re good and special. I wouldn’t be here if I thought you could give in to this madness.”

  It happened then and he wouldn’t have stopped it for anything. Ian leaned over, which wasn’t far, being they were so close already, and pressed his lips to Pat’s.

  There was no tongue involved, Ian didn’t throw him on the bed and start ripping off his clothes. It could have been a kiss between friends, but he didn’t take it that way, and he was sure Ian didn’t mean it that way. It lasted a little longer than a friendly kiss, and the hummed moan that came from Ian when he pulled back, the way his eyes were glossed over and his pupils wide enough to fall into, Pat knew how the kiss was meant.

  There were words of chiding on his tongue, dying to leave his mouth. He wouldn’t allow it. It was a kiss that he’d wanted as much, and he would treasure it, whether it was the first and last or the first of many.

  “Thank you. For seeing me.”

  “Thank you for letting me see.”

  Turning his head away, Ian pulled back his hands. “I guess we should get back to this.”

  “Yes. We should.”

  For the next couple hours, they worked until they were starving. Ian wanted coffee, and pancakes enough to smother the world, he said, and Pat opened the curtain to see the sign for the diner that was right next to the motel.

  “It’s old. Fuck, it’s ancient. I kind of doubt they’d have camera that went past some old VCR in the back to record tapes.”

  “What’s a VCR?”

  Holding back the mocking he wanted to throw at him for his youth and wealth, Pat simpl
y dismissed the question and compromised. “We’ll go there to get breakfast. Then, we’ll order a burger or something to bring back here to eat for lunch later. The less we leave here, the better.”

  “Okay. Thanks. It’s cliché, but the cabin gave me cabin fever. I’m a little antsy.”

  He didn’t admit it aloud, but he was too. “Keep your head down and don’t stand out.” He realized what he’s just said was exactly what the Grail expected of him. “Sorry.”

  Ian caught it but didn’t hold it against him. “I never did stand out for anything except my money anyway.”

  “I seriously doubt that, Ian.”

  With a shy smile that didn’t belong on the beautiful face, he whispered, “Stop flirting with me.”

  “You’re the one who walked in on me in the shower.”

  Wistful, he grinned wider and sighed, “Yeah, I sure did.”

  “Asshole.”

  The diner was indeed out of another century. Red vinyl booths and laminated tables, a bar area where a waitress in a pink and white uniform dress was taking orders next to a spinning pie display case. It was as if he’d stepped back in time, and he found he loved it.

  His reaction was nothing compared to Ian’s, however, as he was gazing around, eyes wide with amazement. “Talk about retro. I love this place!”

  They took a booth in the middle of a line of them, Pat facing the wide windows. “Oh, your renovation thing. I’ll bet you like the layout.”

  “The layout, the architecture, even the furniture!” He patted the table and said, “This is called cracked glass laminate. It was the most popular design in in the mid-century. Diners, homes, everything.”

  He ran his hand over the seat. Pat confessed, “I always liked these types of booths, except when I was wearing shorts. My legs always stuck.”

  Ian giggled over that, and mumbled, “Sorry. That had to hurt.”

  “It did.”

  The menus were retro too, typed pages inside of plastic sleeves. There wasn’t a lot of choices, but it wasn’t needed. What they did have smelled amazing. “I know I’ll have to work for a month to get it off, but I want those biscuits and gravy.”

  “Biscuits and gravy? Okay, don’t laugh at me again, but what the heck is that? Sounds awful!”

  Patiently, he explained, “It’s the best of poor people food, honey. These thick, flaky biscuits are covered with gravy, and the gravy has nice hearty chunks of breakfast sausage.”

  “Still sounds awful. I’m doing the pancakes. I was only allowed these once a month, and they had to be covered in fruit. I didn’t know what maple syrup was until I was in college.”

  “But, Ian, I know it seemed to be you were kept from things, but you have traveled the world. You’ve eaten foods most people will never get to try. You are lucky in so many ways, Ian, in that you can experience both worlds.”

  “Pat…you never get disgusted with me over my wealth. So many people do. College, my first couple years at least, was a nightmare. Everyone hated me, knowing how I got in, thinking I was passing my classes the same way. I would drive my car into the parking lot, and a couple hippy type people would spit on it. I then had to be driven, worried they’d do worse to my car, and I got dirty looks for that. I couldn’t win. You, though, you never make me feel badly about my upbringing.”

  Pat was saved from having to say anything to that by the waitress. She pulled out her old-fashioned order pad and short yellow pencil. “Do you know what you want?”

  “The pancakes for me, and the biscuits and gravy for my companion,” Ian ordered, winking at Pat.

  “Great choices. To drink?”

  “Coffee, of course,” he said, a little abruptly.

  She didn’t seem to notice and wrote that down. While Ian set his menu back behind the napkin holder, Pat thanked her.

  “Ian, you were verging on rude.”

  “Rude? I wasn’t. It was a stupid question.”

  “You could have wanted juice, water, soda. And when you are done ordering, thank her.”

  Ian’s eyes narrowed and a smile played on his lips. “Thank her for…?”

  “Taking our order.”

  He could tell Ian thought he was joking. “Taking our order? Like that was hard?”

  Unwilling to continue with the lesson he was trying to give Ian, he simply told him, “Be a little more grateful, even for the smaller things, or you can forget the pancakes.”

  Sitting up straighter, he looked over his shoulder and watched the waitress for a few minutes. Pat followed his stare, seeing the woman rushing from table to table, pouring coffee, taking orders, handing out plates.

  “She…she works hard.”

  Pat saw him understanding better and smiled inwardly. “Yes, she does.”

  “I didn’t know a lot about people without money until Denny came along. He would tell me stories, and I thought he was lying. It took me a while to figure it all out, then I realized, like today, I have yet to understand anything.”

  There wasn’t a malicious bone in Ian’s body. He was ignorant of certain things, but it wasn’t his fault. It was hard to know much about a way of life one had never experienced.

  “Actually, Ian, it may be harder for you still. You’ll have to, in public and around your father and the Grail members, you’ll have to act like you are still there, without understanding of the other ways of living life.”

  “I’ll have to revert to being a snob. I get it. I thought about that. It’s going to be disgustingly easy.”

  “But it won’t be real, Ian. You must keep that in mind. You’ve seen both sides now and you will never fully revert back to that person that doesn’t understand how other people live.”

  “You’re good to me, Pat. I’m afraid that you won’t always be able to defend me. That is what probably scares me the most in all this.”

  Their food came soon after that, so Pat didn’t have a chance to comment. The plate in front of him was piled high with food, and he cut a piece with his fork, as the aroma lit his appetite on fire.

  The first taste, creamy, thick gravy with spicy sausage, buttery biscuit, just the perfect amount of pepper, had him moaning. Across from him, Ian hadn’t taken a bite of his food, staring at Pat’s plate.

  “Take a bite.”

  “Really?”

  Pat pushed his plate over to the center of the table and Ian scooped a bit for himself onto his fork. He sniffed it and stared at him, still unsure.

  “Go ahead. If you hate it, spit it into a damn napkin,” he said, laughing.

  Ian opened his mouth and closed his lips around the fork, so fucking erotic that Pat had to glance away quickly.

  From across the table came a groan and Ian fell back against the booth. Once he’d swallowed, he moaned out, “Freaking heaven.”

  “Told ya.”

  “Maybe being poor isn’t so bad, with food like that.”

  “Wait until I make you my spaghetti with butter and basil. Costs about two bucks and will feed you two days.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Ian was eating his pancakes, which were covered in butter and syrup but also had whipped cream and strawberries. The strawberries made it healthy, Ian reasoned, causing Pat to laugh loudly.

  “If you were…never mind.”

  “What? Tell me!”

  Pat knew he couldn’t get out of it, and if he made something up, Ian could know. He was too intelligent for that. “If you were mine, for real, you would get to eat like that maybe twice a year.”

  Ian’s fork clanged to the plate and he gaped over, little pants emitting from his lips. “I…you…you’d tell me what to eat?”

  Pat would pull back his words, knowing how controlling that sounded, and Neanderthal, but with Ian’s reaction, he knew it was welcome. With a desire to tease the man, he leaned in and purred, “Oh, yeah. Sometimes, if you were really naughty and needing a lesson, I’d tie your hands behind your back, make you kneel beside me while I ate, and I’d feed you.”

&nb
sp; Chapter Nine

  He realized what he must look like, jaw hanging and probably drool ready to drip from the corner of his lip. There wasn’t a thing he could do about it, though. Right to his crotch, Pat’s words went, and they stayed there, vibrating. Like he was a pubescent kid, he felt as though he could jizz right in his pants.

  How smug he was, sitting there, eating his amazing food. Pat’s little grin, barely an upturn of his lips, and his chest heaved out, proud.

  He knew what he’d done to Ian. Thinking on what Pat had said, that he’d looked through Ian’s browser history, he knew what Ian was into. A devil, using that, the greatest of weapons on him. “You’re such a prick.”

  “Yeah, and I’m so good at it.”

  Ian had to laugh then, breaking some of that thick sexual tension. He started to eat again but was soon stopped as Pat slid Ian’s plate over to his and started to slide some of his biscuits and gravy onto Ian’s plate. “Thanks.”

  “Please, don’t try to eat it all, though I know you are hungry for real, hot food. You’ll probably get sick.”

  “I know I will,” he agreed. “Take some of my pancakes.”

  “Sure, but not the strawberries. Wouldn’t want your plate totally unhealthy.”

  More smirking, and Ian found Pat’s cockiness to be sexier than anything else he’d seen from the man so far. Confidence was terribly sexy on a man, and Pat had it in spades.

  “When we get back to the motel, we need to tell each other some things that the other doesn’t know. For the boyfriend angle.”

  Waving a hand at him, Ian scoffed, “I know enough. If I learn anymore, then I won’t be able to help myself.”

  “Oh? Turned on by me, are you?”

  “You know I am.”

  He could see Pat getting serious, and he didn’t want any big revelations or lectures on how they had to stay in their separate corners. “I get it, though, that we can’t do anything. At least, not while we are trying to prepare for my heading back home. Don’t worry, I’m not trying to throw myself at you or sexually harass you.”