Chapter 23. Ford
Clubs are fun, but I'm too old for them. Too loud. The music, the talking. Too many people, too much going on, drugs, drunks looking for trouble. I prefer to stay in bed, watching TV, with my daughter, or with Jude, having our own kind of fun at home.
But if it makes him happy, I'll do it.
Tonight, right before we go in, he looks like a mix of excitement and guilt. I know that face, and I don't want him spiraling, so I decide to nip it in the bud.
"Look, I know you're still thinking about what you did last time.
Don't worry about it. I told you I forgive you.
And when we make a decision to forgive someone, we should.
Otherwise you're just going to keep punishing this person forever, and that's no way to be, and that's not what I do.
So you've paid for it. Now I want you to forget it and try to do better this time.
Alright, puppy?" I ask him, and he looks at me with those gorgeous eyes, now glassy with tears.
"I don't deserve you," he says, and I frown, grabbing his chin to make him look at me.
"What did you say? Don't repeat that. I wouldn't waste time with an unworthy sub, would I? Do you think I don't use my time wisely?"
He gulps, but then he's smirking again. "No, Daddy. I'm sorry."
"You should be. Now let's have some fun."
We go in, and he waves at everybody. He's really popular here.
He told me he used to manage the place with Glynn.
He didn't even do it for the money. He did it because he loved it so much.
He used to come here several times a week, and my heart shatters when I think about the isolation he went through after the breakup.
I know his ex could be here somewhere too, but I'm not worried about it. Not this time. I trust him.
He finds a tall, beautiful Black man with dreadlocks, standing next to a spanking bench, who grins when he sees Jude.
"This is Callum," Jude tells me with a huge grin on his face. Callum is wearing a pink dress that hugs his frame. "We used to be collar brothers."
"Hey, everyone, nice to meet you all, or see you again," I say with a general wave, and I shake Callum's hand. They all look at me with a similar expression, almost as if I'm a savior of some kind.
"Wow, Jude, you did really well," Callum says with an easy smile. "I'm so glad you're being so good for him. You should have seen this kid at his worst," he tells me, and there's an actual brotherly tone to his voice. Jude just laughs.
"I can't even remember that anymore," he says, and I know he means it.
One of the things I admire most about him is his ability not to hold grudges.
Whenever he's healed, he simply lets go of the pain.
He cherishes good things and loves easily.
It comes naturally to him. It's not something I can do as easily.
Callum pulls Jude and me into a quieter corner near the bar, and I follow, content to observe.
There's something about the way they move together.
Not romantic, nothing like that, but synchronized, like two people who know each other in their bones.
Callum drapes an arm around Jude's shoulders, and my boy leans into it without a second thought.
"So you're the one who finally got a leash on this disaster," Callum says to me, and there's warmth in it, but also something probing. His dark eyes scan me. He's measuring me. I respect that.
"Yes, a leash, but also a mutual agreement that he'll stop running into traffic."
Callum laughs. "That's more than anyone else managed." He turns to Jude. "Remember when you climbed that fire escape at Emmett's old place because you were bored?"
"I wasn't bored. I was proving a point," Jude says, stealing my whiskey the second the bartender sets it down. But before he drinks it, he looks at me with these huge eyes. I smile and let him with a nod. He takes a sip and winces at the burn, and I can't help the small smile that tugs at my mouth.
"The point being that gravity is optional and you're insane?" Callum shakes his head, but he's grinning.
They fall into stories I haven't heard, and I listen carefully.
The time they both got punished for switching each other's collars as a joke.
The night they sat on a rooftop somewhere in Brooklyn, sharing a cigarette after something Callum won't name.
His voice just dips and trails off, and Jude fills the silence, redirecting.
They protect each other's wounds without being asked.
I notice the way Callum watches Jude when he thinks no one is looking, checking for cracks, for signs of the old damage.
I want to tell him I do the same thing, that we're not different in that regard, but it feels too early to claim that kind of kinship.
"He's eating regularly? Not Cup Noodles washed down with Monster?" Callum asks me directly, and it's not a casual question. "What about leaving the house? He was the worst about it. Emmett had to threaten him constantly with no orgasms if he didn't go on his daily walks."
"Three meals. Snacks when I can get them into him. He fights me on breakfast, but I'm persistent. And he has a rule that he has to exercise every day."
Callum nods, a huge smile appearing. "Good. That's good." He squeezes Jude's arm once, firm, and Jude beams at him.
We talk for another twenty minutes. About the club, about Callum's work restoring furniture, about absolutely nothing, and it's the most relaxed I've felt in a social setting in years. Callum has a way of holding space. He makes you feel calm, at ease.
Then Jude spots something across the room and his whole body lights up.
"There they are," he breathes, already pulling me by the wrist. "See you later, C!"
We weave through the crowd toward a booth tucked against the far wall, bathed in the deep violet glow of overhead lights.
Glynn is perched on the edge of the seat, legs crossed.
They're drinking something clear and fizzy, their ginger hair slicked back in a bun.
Beside them, Pierce is sprawled like a cat.
His blue hair is wilder than the last time I saw him, going in all directions, and he's added a new piercing to his left nostril, complementing the septum ring he already has.
"Well, well, well," Pierce drawls. "Daddy came to the playground."
"Pierce," I say, offering my hand for a handshake.
"Ford," he mimics my tone perfectly, then breaks into a laugh.
"Ignore him. He's been tolerable for approximately eleven minutes," Glynn says without looking up from their drink. "A personal record."
Jude slides into the booth next to Pierce, and they immediately knock shoulders like magnets. I take the seat across from them, beside Glynn, who smiles at me.
"Daddy, you have to hear this," Jude says. "Tell him,” he urges Pierce, practically buzzing. "Tell him about the guy with the rope."
Pierce leans forward, elbows on the table.
"Okay, so this Dom, right? He comes in here last Thursday with what he claims is Japanese jute, handmade, blessed by monks or whatever the fuck.
And he's going to do a suspension scene with his sub.
Big production. He's set up the whole frame, got the carabiners, the whole nine. "
"And?" Jude asks, eager for the punchline.
"And," Pierce continues, eyes gleaming, "it's clothesline. From Home Depot. The orange kind. You could see the little price sticker still on it."
Jude erupts laughing. I laugh too, more because I'm so happy to see him this relaxed.
"What happened to the sub?" I ask, somewhat worried.
"Oh, Glynn shut it down in about four seconds flat," Pierce says, jerking his thumb toward them.
"You should have seen it. Full dungeon monitor mode.
They didn't even raise their voice. Just walked over, looked at the rope, looked at the Dom, and said, 'Sir, if you'd like to hang your laundry, there's a balcony on the third floor. '"
We all laugh. Jude stares at me with those honey eyes gone wide and soft, his lips parted.
The music shifts: something deeper, slower, with a bass line I can feel in my sternum.
Jude's attention drifts toward the floor. He wants to dance. He won't ask me. He knows I don't. He'll sit here and pretend he's content because he's trying so goddamn hard to be good for me, and that effort alone undoes me.
"Go," I tell him.
He looks at me. "What?"
"Go dance. Take Pierce. I know you want to."
"I don't… I'm fine here, Daddy." But his knee is bouncing, and Pierce is already half out of the booth like a dog who heard the word walk.
"That wasn't a suggestion. Go burn off some of that energy before I have to find other ways to do it."
He bites his lower lip, and for a second I think he's going to climb into my lap right here, audience be damned. But he restrains himself, barely, and presses a quick kiss to my jaw before scrambling out of the booth.
Pierce pauses just long enough to glance back at me. "Hey. Thanks for showing up for him, man. Seriously." He says it low, almost flat, and then he's gone before I can answer, dragged toward the dance floor by Jude's grip on his wrist.
I watch them go. Glynn and I sit in silence for a moment, the bass pulsing through the leather of the booth.
On the dance floor, I spot Jude's blond head bobbing through the crowd. Pierce has both hands in the air, moving as if he doesn't have any bones. Jude is laughing again. He catches me watching and does something obscene with his hips, deliberately, just to see my reaction from across the room.
I squint at him, shaking my head, and raise my glass. Brat.
He blows me a kiss and spins away.
"I just need to know one thing," Glynn says, and their voice is quiet. Their green eyes meet mine. "If it gets bad again, and it might, Ford, because that's how this works with him, are you going to stay?"
The question is simple. The answer should be simple.
I think about my daughter. My routines. My pristine house and my controlled life.
Then I look at the dance floor, where Jude has somehow convinced a stranger to teach him a move that involves far too much hip rotation, and he's failing spectacularly, and Pierce is filming it, and he's never looked more alive.
"I'm not going anywhere," I say.
Glynn studies me for a long moment. Then they extend their hand. I shake it.
"Then welcome to the family," they say.