Chapter Nineteen
“Oh, my god, that was incredible.” Standing in the front lobby of the studio, Cameron took Asher’s hand and beamed up at him.
“I’m so proud of you, and Meredith? She was a total badass.
Christ, did you see your parents’ faces?
Wow.” He actually bounced a little on his toes as they started walking again.
“I thought your mom was going to sprout horns and start breathing fire.”
Asher laughed openly at Cameron’s excited babbling. The guy was usually the poster boy for poise and control. So, seeing him bubbly and animated was really fucking cute.
Asher shook his head at himself. When had he turned into that guy—the kind of guy who used the word “cute” at all, let alone when referring to a grown-ass man? Jesus, love was weird.
Not that he didn’t share in the guy’s excitement.
He was just doing a better job of hiding it.
At least outwardly. On the inside, he was practically vibrating.
Talon had taught him what to say, how to say it, and when to say nothing.
Yet, nothing they had discussed had prepared him for just how satisfying it would be to watch Meredith Tripoli go after his parents the way she had .
When he’d indicated that he didn’t have any questions, he had thought that would be the end of the interview.
So, he’d been pleasantly surprised when Meredith had spent another ten minutes grilling Suzanne and Lawrence about everything from Asher’s allegations of abuse to the measures they had taken to try to bring him safely home.
The television hostess had been prepared with facts and figures in her plethora of research to refute every lie, every half-truth. She hadn’t let them deflect her concerns with tears or banal apologies.
When the cameras finally stopped rolling, Meredith had thanked the Derringers for being there and politely shaken their hands.
As his parents had slunk away behind the curtains, she’d pulled Asher into a tight hug and told him how brave he’d been.
Then, she’d offered him the chance to return to the show to promote his new book when it released.
Asher had felt like he was walking on air as he’d left the set.
“So, you’re saying I was right?”
Cameron went very still for several long seconds before looking up at him. “That’s not what I said.”
“But I was right. This was a good idea.”
Pulling his shoulders back, Cameron sniffed haughtily. “I never said it wasn’t. ”
“Right,” Asher scoffed. “My bad. I guess it was my other neurotic boyfriend who made a categorized list of all the ways this could go wrong.”
Cameron’s nose scrunched as he furrowed his brow. “That guy sounds like a dick. You should totally dump him and stick with me. I’m clearly the better choice.”
Laughing right from his belly, Asher bent and pressed a kiss to Cameron’s creased forehead. “You are insane.”
“You love me.” Cameron shrugged. “What does that say about you?”
Asher didn’t miss a beat. “That I have impeccable taste. Obviously.”
“Obviously. You know, that’s not…” Whatever he’d been about to say trailed away into nothing.
Looking up to see what had caught his attention, Asher grimaced when he spotted his parents crossing the lobby as they headed toward the bank of elevators that led to the parking garage.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, he thought they would say something.
Without any cameras to play up to, however, they seemed disinclined to even acknowledge his existence, both of them ducking their heads as they hurried past him.
Asher gave a mental shrug. That suited him just fine.
At the last minute, his mother looked up from inside the elevator, their eyes met, and she leveled him with a glare of pure, unmasked loathing. Lifting his hand, he gave her a little wave and smirked, immensely enjoying the way her face mottled an angry red before the doors slid closed.
“What a bitch,” Cameron mumbled, all of his previous happiness deflating. “I didn’t know any of those things you said in the interview.” His hand tightened around Asher’s. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”
“Thank you, but I’m okay.” He meant it. Purging those secrets, confronting his parents, it had been like sucking poison out of his soul. “They don’t matter anymore.”
Cameron glanced toward the closed, innocuous elevators again with narrowed eyes as if the metal doors themselves had offended him. “What do you think they’re going to do now?”
“I don’t know.”
Maybe they’d try to do damage control with more interviews. Maybe they’d go home and blend quietly back into society like nothing had ever happened. It didn’t matter, and he really didn’t care.
An errant thought made him snort.
“What?” Cameron looked up at him curiously.
“They moved after I disappeared. Not because of whatever bullshit reason my mom gave, but because the shame would have been too much.” He could barely get the words out through his laughter. “After this interview, they’re probably going to have to move again.”
Catching on to the joke, Cameron chuckled along with him. “My heart bleeds for them. Really, it does. ”
His dry sarcasm only made Asher laugh harder.
“Sorry to break this up,” Ryder said, appearing at Asher’s side from seemingly nowhere. He nodded toward the row of glass doors that made up the street level exit of the studio. “It’s showtime.”
Asher swallowed down a groan. He really hated this part, but Talon had stressed how important it was that he follow up his appearance on Wake Up, Dallas by addressing questions from the media.
Naturally, Asher had protested, insisting being bombarded with questions from reporters defeated the purpose of the interview in the first place.
A part of him still wanted to slip away to the parking garage and avoid the media circus gathering on the sidewalk out front, but Talon hadn’t steered him wrong yet. If he thought it was important, Asher trusted him.
“Are you ready?” Cameron asked, his attention on the exit as he adjusted his grip on Asher’s hand to link their fingers together.
No, but they might as well get it over with. “Let’s go.”
Reporters converged on them the minute they stepped through the doors.
Their shouted questions blended together with the click of cameras and the scuff of shuffling feet, coalescing into a cacophony of unintelligible sound.
Flashbulbs blinded him, forcing him to duck his head as Ryder led them deeper into the sea of frantic bodies.
“Asher, is it true that your parents are here at the studio? ”
He couldn’t see who had asked the question, but he nodded. “They were.”
“…you reconciled?”
He didn’t catch the front end of that question, but he wouldn’t have answered it anyway. The contract he’d signed when he’d agreed to appear on the show had been very specific about the type of information he could divulge before the episode aired.
“Mr. Stone, how do you feel the interview went?”
Tucked in close to Asher’s side, Cameron jerked his head up at being addressed directly. He’d gone a little pale, but he swallowed a couple of times and smiled. “I think the interview went very well.”
Ryder shuffled them forward a few more steps, using his body as much as possible to keep the eager journalists from getting too close.
“Mr. Dare, is this the first time you’ve seen your parents since you ran away as a teenager?”
“I didn’t run away,” he answered clearly, his voice carrying. “And no. I saw them briefly a couple of weeks ago.” He left it purposely vague and took another step, moving closer to the curb and the sanctuary of the black Escalade.
“Can you confirm the allegations of abuse?”
“Is it true that your parents kicked you out for being gay? ”
“Do you have any plans to rebuild a relationship with your parents?”
“Have they asked you for money?”
“Are you concerned about their motivations?”
The questions assailed him, each one rolling into the next until a faint pressure began building at the base of Asher’s skull. Reporters pressed in closer, jostling him in their eagerness to capture every word, every facial tick.
“Back up!” Ryder shouted, but no one paid any attention to him.
Asher cursed when Cameron stumbled sideways into the throng of bodies.
“Enough!” a voice bellowed loud enough to be heard over the din of reporters.
Asher snapped his head up, his hand still reaching for Cameron as he searched for the owner of the voice. Time froze. Sounds dulled. His blood ran cold as his heart lurched into his throat as the scene around him blurred at the edges.
Standing less than ten feet away, Kyle Anders held Cameron around the neck as he raised his right hand and pointed the barrel of a sleek, black handgun at his temple.
A woman screamed. Someone gasped. A man shouted out a warning as everyone scrambled for cover.
Next to Asher, Ryder unholstered his own weapon and aimed it at Kyle as he took up a perfect shooter’s stance. Carefully, slowly, he inched forward, sidestepping to place himself between Asher and the threat.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered. Then, to Kyle, he shouted, “Drop the gun!”
Kyle took a few steps back and dug the barrel of the gun into Cameron’s temple, making him wince. “Don’t come any closer,” he warned. “I don’t think he’d be so pretty with a hole in his head, would he?”
The fear that had paralyzed Asher diminished, ushering in a consuming fury he’d never felt before. He surged forward a single, jerky stride, only to find his way blocked by Ryder.
“Asher?” Cameron croaked, shaking his head as much as the arm around his neck would allow. “Asher, don’t.”
Blood roared in his ears as his heart hammered painfully against his ribs. “Cameron, sweetheart, everything is going to be okay.” Fuck, it was so far out of the realm of okay , but he couldn’t think that way. Cameron needed him. He shifted his attention. “Kyle, he has nothing to do—”
“This is your fault!” Kyle screamed at him. “Why did you have to ruin everything?”