Chapter 30
THIRTY
Ethan
Ethan carried a stack of plates and silverware to the dining table while his mother finished up in the kitchen. He was looking forward to a peaceful Friday dinner and some pleasant small talk with his parents.
Still stinging from the drama with Blake at The Firehouse, a quiet night in the familiar walls of the townhouse where he grew up was just what he needed.
He and his mother were chatting over a glass of wine when his father marched up the stairs from his study. There was something unnerving about the determined set of his jaw. As he crossed the living room, his strides were longer than usual, and his gaze was extra flinty.
Shit. His father was angry.
Time for evasive maneuvers. Ethan slipped his phone closer, hoping to fire off a quick “fake an emergency” text to Zane. He had their text chain open and had typed SOS when his father’s footsteps stopped behind him.
“Ethan,” Howard said sharply.
Ethan’s thumbs froze on his keypad.
Howard sat down and snapped his napkin open, draping it over his thigh. “Put your phone away.”
Ethan locked his screen and set his phone on the table. “Sorry.”
His mother passed the platter of steaks to Howard. “So, honey,” she said, smiling at Ethan. “Are you ready for the semester––”
“We were hoping to meet your business partner tonight.” Howard speared one of the steaks with his fork and slid it onto his plate before passing the platter to Ethan.
There was no way that statement wasn’t the lead-in to an ambush.
Ethan selected one of the smaller steaks and moved it to his plate, stalling as he tried to come up with an excuse that sounded reasonable.
He wasn’t prepared to share everything that had happened between him and Blake in the three weeks since they’d announced they were going into business together. “He, uh, had to work.”
“I see,” Howard said, his tone clipped and icy.
Bowls of roasted potatoes and steamed vegetables were passed around in silence – the kind of silence that descends in a forest when a predator is drawing near.
Howard sawed off a corner of his steak. “Is he dancing tonight?”
Sweat dampened Ethan’s hairline. He muttered the only word he could come up with in that moment of panic. “What?”
Howard calmly set down his knife. “Cut the act.”
Ethan gulped some wine and sheepishly met his father’s eyes. “How did you find out?”
Howard stabbed the piece of steak and maintained a steely eye contact with his son as he chewed it and swallowed it.
“When I met with Jerry this week, we talked about the Dolores Street project again, and he mentioned that a ‘Blake Larsen’ was taking over the lease from Virgil Glass. That would have been quite the coincidence if it wasn’t the Blake you were dating.
” He slammed down his fork with a bang. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out?
You know Orison has eyes on that building.
We know everything about the business Mr. Larsen is in. ”
“Howard, honey,” Ethan’s mother said, reaching across the table to lay her hand over her husband’s.
Howard glared at her, then turned his withering glance back to Ethan.
“I was going to tell you,” Ethan mumbled. Now his palms were clammy, and sweat was gathering in his armpits.
“A sex club, Ethan? You know I would have never approved of that. You don’t want some sleazy bar in your portfolio.”
“For fuck’s sake! It’s not a sex club!” Ethan snapped, instantly regretting his outburst. He shrunk back from the fury that flashed through his father’s eyes.
His mother dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin, her eyes cast downward. “Can we please have a quiet meal?”
“It’s a burlesque club,” Ethan said. “It’s like, artful striptease, with humor, and sensuality…” His voice trailed off as he pushed potatoes around on his plate. “It’s a legitimate business, Dad.”
“It’s a disgrace,” Howard said disdainfully.
“Howard, that’s enough.” Jessica raised her voice, which she only did when situations had gotten out of hand. When Jessica Whet spoke in anger, the Whet men knew it was time to back down. “We only see Ethan once a week. Can we at least pretend to be civil?”
Howard looked between his wife and son, then stared at his plate with his head bowed. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
Dinner resumed, with short bursts of stilted conversation and long, awkward silences, during which there was more sipping of wine than eating of food. When it was clear that no one had much of an appetite, Jessica excused herself to begin the dishes.
Ethan rose from his seat. “I can help, Mom.”
Howard folded his napkin and set it beside his plate. “Actually, son, let’s go down to my study and have a chat.”
Those words could have been ominous. Here, let’s go someplace out of your mother’s earshot so I can rip you a new asshole. But that wasn’t the vibe Ethan was getting. His father’s expression was softer, and his voice held a warmth that had not been there moments before.
Ethan followed his father downstairs.
Howard’s study was painted a deep, warm grey, and featured built-in shelves laden with books.
His desk, a hulking oak behemoth, was home to a massive computer monitor and an incongruously delicate Tiffany glass desk lamp.
The lamp’s colorful, jeweled dragonflies had always seemed out of step with his father’s utilitarian tastes, but the antique lamp was one of Howard’s prized possessions.
While Ethan settled into the armchair facing his dad’s desk, Howard opened his liquor cabinet and poured two glasses of his favorite bourbon. It may have been the same bottle Ethan had given him for Christmas.
Howard handed Ethan a glass and leaned against his desk. He clinked their glasses together. “Cheers.”
Ethan took a hearty sip, and the volcanic burn in his throat nearly sent him into a coughing fit.
Howard reached over his desk and retrieved a small rectangular leather case from the top drawer. “I bought this when you told me you were taking the initiative to open the bar with Blake. A way to welcome you into the business world.”
Ethan opened the case. Nestled in a bed of black velvet was a sleek, gunmetal grey fountain pen. His name was engraved on the barrel in an elegant cursive font: Ethan Nicholas Whet. “It’s beautiful.”
Guilt and shame curdled in Ethan’s stomach. He was a shitty son. His father had been so proud of his decision to open a business that he took the time to choose a gift he knew Ethan would love, to celebrate the exciting news. And the whole time, that news had been based on a lie.
“I may not understand, or be overjoyed, about the type of business you’re opening, but you’re an adult. You need to make your own decisions.”
The study was dimly lit, so it was hard to be sure, but the shimmer of light in the corners of Howard’s eyes may have been tears.
Ethan’s first instinct was to hug his gift to his chest, a symbol of his father’s pride, and abandon the club. Leave behind the decision that was causing his dad so much pain and choose the path that would make him happy. “I’m sorry I lied to you, Dad.”
Howard nodded and sipped his bourbon. “I hated being away so much when you were growing up. I wasn’t home when you started to crawl. Or when you took your first steps. Or when you said your first word, which ironically, was ‘da-da.’ I missed most of your milestones, and I regret that.”
He swirled his drink, staring into the depths of the amber liquid. “When you were young, seven or eight, we’d watch monster movies on the Sunday afternoons when I was able to be home.”
An overpowering surge of love for his father rose in Ethan’s chest. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”
Howard looked at his son, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Of course I remember. You in your pajamas. Sharing a bowl of popcorn. Checking for monsters before I tucked you in. Those are some of my best memories from that time. I miss spending that time with you.
“I know I push you, Ethan, but it’s because I want you to have a life that gives you stability and comfort. That doesn’t make you choose between work and the people you love.
“Being a businessman requires making tough choices. Weighing costs and benefits. Orison may not be your dream job, but it treats its employees well. Work-life balance is one of the company’s core values. The internship with Jerry is still available. It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“It’s not a good fit for me, Dad.”
“There are other internships you could consider.” Howard drained his glass and set it on his desk. “I can broker the same deal for you and Blake that we offered to Virgil. We’d buy out the lease and the two of you could move on. Free and clear.”
“I made a commitment. I need to see this through. I want to do this.”
Howard’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “Think about the offer. That’s all I ask.”
Ethan nodded meekly.
“Would you like some more bourbon?”
“Sure.”
While his father refilled their glasses, Ethan ran his fingers over the engraving on his fountain pen before gently closing the case.
His heart sank, because he now knew two things for certain. First, it was going to take a lot of time and effort to get his father comfortable with the idea that he was running a burlesque club, and to see Blake as anyone other than the man leading Ethan into a life of sleazy sexual abandon.
And second, they hadn’t heard the last from Orison.