CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ROYCE
I’m not super shocked when I can’t fall asleep all fucking night. Nor is it much of a surprise when Ava comes busting into my room after I finally do pass out.
“Get up.”
She yanks the blanket off of me.
“Shit, Ava. I could have been naked.”
She doesn’t care. “And what? Unlike you, reproductive organs don’t make me want to pee my pants in fear. Besides, Hudson slept on the couch last night, so you didn’t have any real reason to take your pants off, now did you?”
So that’s where he went. I don’t know if I’m relieved or pissed to find out he never even left the penthouse.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, reluctantly giving in to the fact that I’m apparently getting up. “Where is he now?”
“On his way to the airport with everyone else.”
That fucking wakes me up. “WHAT?”
She shrugs.
Then Blaise shows up in the doorway behind her. “Do my ears deceive me, or did Royce Lemmi actually shout?”
The irony of Blaise, the hot head, being cool as a motherfucking cucumber while, I, the guy who hasn’t seen a reason to raise his voice in nearly a decade, is now yelling at the top of his lungs, is not lost on any of us. In fact, Blaise is grinning. It’s enough to bring me back down to an angry mutter.
“Oh, great. So, you meant everyone else, except Blaise.” I yank a pair of jeans from the chair in the corner and pull them on. I’m not stupid enough to expect either of them to give me any privacy at this point. “Either one of you going to tell me what the fuck is going on? What? Couldn’t get a car big enough for all of us? Flight was overbooked?”
“It’s a private jet,” Blaise interjects the obvious.
I force my arm through the sleeve of my shirt even though it’s rolled up and wrong side out. “Yeah, I got that, Blaise. I was being sarcastic.”
“No, you were being an asshole. Is that something we should start to expect from you on the regular now?” It’s the first thing Ava has said since Blaise appeared as her back up.
“I don’t know, Ava. As you so astutely observed, Hudson slept on the couch last night. I’m sure it’s not too hard to conclude the rather obvious reason being that being we had a fight. So, yeah, I think I’m entitled to a little asshole time. You guys have certainly made use of it plenty over the years.”
I’m really drudging up old shit now and for no other reason than to distract everyone from the mess I’m making of my life. Not that it’s working.
“Can’t argue with you there. You’ve definitely seen me at my worst. But considering how you enjoyed looking down on me from your self-righteous high horse back then, I’m surprised to see you so willing to stoop down to my lowly ways.” That motherfucker is still grinning.
“No shit.” Ava on the other hand seems to be getting increasingly pissed. “I’m glad you both brought that up, because that’s what blows my fucking mind about all of this the most. You were there. You saw what that did to me. How the hell can you turn around and do it to someone else now?”
I turn away from her and start throwing any loose items I have around the room into my bag. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The fuck you don’t. I talked to him last night. He told me what you said.” She rounds on me and gets back in my face. “You told him I made you lie to keep up appearances. You said that I arranged for Francis to be your date. And he accused me of hiring him as your little piece of ass for the road to keep you happy!”
I literally feel all the blood draining from my body as each of her words pelts me like bullets from a fucking BB gun. I feel lightheaded and the nausea hits me all at once.
“What did you tell him?” I force the words out through clenched teeth.
Ava’s face morphs from furious to shattered in a split second. “What do you think? I covered for you.”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s not like I never had to do it for you. Doesn’t feel so hot though, does it?” I know I'm being a total dick, but I can’t stop. The hurt of the last twenty-four hours is still too fresh, and anger is more manageable than letting the searing pain run through me at full force.
Meanwhile, Ava seems to be temporarily speechless, which to outsiders might sound like a welcome change of pace, or even some sort of accomplishment worthy of praise, but I know better. Ava not talking is not good.
“Alright, well, now that you’ve got that out of your system, I guess you and Ava are square.” Blaise turns halfway in the doorway like he's getting ready to leave and for a moment, I think this bit of the torture session has come to an end. I'm wrong. “But I still owe you. Come on. Grab a jacket and a hat or something. We got somewhere to go.” He gestures for the exit and starts walking.
Ava just stares at me and, for the first time, I realize her eyes are bloodshot. Because it wasn't enough to devastate the man I love, I had to crush my best friend to do it.
It's purely on autopilot that I follow Blaise’s orders, reach for my stuff and go after him. I don't even ask where we’re going. I don’t care.
We ride the elevator in complete silence and don’t say much other than the bare necessities when we get into the car downstairs either.
Twenty minutes later and we’re being dropped off in front of some hole in the wall restaurant that makes me wish I’d gotten a tetanus booster at some point in the last ten years.
“What the fuck is this place?”
Blaise smirks. “Not sure. But I asked the driver to take me to the rattiest little shithole he knew.”
This does nothing to ease the puking sensation still messing with my gag reflexes.
“I’m just fucking with you. I asked him where we could get the best breakfast around here. Apparently, it’s mandatory for these places to look semi-condemned. You know, kinda like that diner you like so much back home?”
So that’s what this is about. That talk we had the night he thought he lost Ava for good.
“I don’t suppose they serve a decent biscuits and gravy here?” I grumble as I walk in after him .
“No. I tried. Guy told me to order a fry up. Said it was a breakfast worth dying for. Then he said it would have to be since the fat content could easily kill you.” He chuckles. It's weird. Not just because laughing seems physically impossible to me at this time, but because the total role reversal between us is fucking with my head big time. I'm the one who keeps his cool, he's the one who's prone to overreacting and being an all-out emotional fucktard. That isn’t exactly a trait I ever hoped to acquire from him.
As it turns out, the guy wasn't kidding. The fry up is fucking phenomenal. And, yeah, it definitely isn’t going to pop up on any heart healthy menu anytime soon.
Isn’t until I devour half of the spread on my platter that I realize how fucking hungry I’ve been. Lying, betraying and breaking up burned though more calories than I expected.
I put down my fork and swallow my last bite of black pudding.
Blaise watches me like he’s been waiting for this moment.
“So, shitballs,” he muses.
And he finally gets me. “Shitballs.” I grin back at him. “I take it you’re about to impart some words of wisdom on me? Tell me all about how I’m not losing Hudson?”
Blaise leans back against the booth cushions. “Are you? Losing him?”
I nod, picking up the fork again and stabbing at what's left of my bacon to keep from having to look at him. “Yeah. Definitely. Except unlike with you and Ava, Hudson really has no reason to keep him from walking away. I mean, we don’t have history. No deep dark secrets binding us together for life.” I’m being dramatic, but the gist of it is true.
“Are you in love with him?”
While I'm busy trying to avoid eye contact, I can feel the heat of his stare burning into the top of my head. “Yeah. But I fucked it up.” I sit up straight.
“Well, then, you’re in good hands. We all know I’m the master of fucking up.”
I shake my head. “How the fuck is that supposed to be helpful?”
“Because. I also know how to fix my fuck ups. And you, you’re goddamn Royce Lemmi, mister responsible, goodie two shoes, mister keeps us all on our fucking tiptoes trying to live up to your standards. Whatever you did to fuck up is probably so minor, I could fix it in my sleep.”
I laugh dryly. “While you actually have a point there, I think I might surprise you with my fucking up abilities on this one.”
“Try me.”
I drop the fork again. It's time to stop dicking around and be real. “You heard Ava. I lied to Hudson...about pretty much everything, and then blamed Ava for the whole thing.”
His mouth twitches back and forth and I know it's eating away at him that I hurt her. After everything he’s done to Ava, that man has spent the last year moving hell and high water to make it up to her. Part of that means he isn’t about to stand by and watch someone else cause her pain either. Which, of course, puts me in an awkward position.
“For the sake of our friendship, I’m going to let you and Ava work out your own shit. But for the record, you make her cry again - and yeah, she bawled her eyes out after her little run in with Hudson last night and didn’t stop until it was time to send everyone else packing - you do that again, and you and I will have a problem.”
I nod. “I do that again, I’m going to have a problem with myself. Trust me, Blaise. I hate myself for dragging her into my fucking mess.”
“I know you do. So does she, by the way. She loves you. We both do. I think that’s why it crushed her to find out that you would tell someone that she, of all people, would ever do anything to interfere with your happiness.”
I exhale sharply. “Yeah, well, that’s because I didn’t think Hudson would believe me if I told him I was the one interfering with my happiness. Fuck, that’s not true either. He would have believed it, but he would have hated me for it. I was basically screwed either way. And blaming Ava made me feel only slightly less pathetic, so...”
Blaise frowns. “You’re not pathetic. And Hudson would know that too,” he pauses thoughtfully. “If you told him the truth. And I don’t mean about yesterday, or any other little lies you’ve told along the way to try and keep your relationship with him hidden, and yeah, I’m aware you’ve told them for reasons that should be self-explanatory, but I’m talking about the real truth. The one you told me.”
“Maybe you missed the part about not wanting to appear even more pathetic?” I drop my chin to my chest and rest my face in my hands. “Somehow telling Hudson about my years of being used as a human punching bag by the alarmingly high number of homophobes who went to school with us back then, just doesn’t seem like the way to do that.”
But he isn't letting me off that easy. “What the fuck happened to your self-esteem, dude? You’re not this second guessing, self-hating pussy. You’re the most levelheaded, shit-together guy I know.”
I shrug. “I put on a good show. I haven’t had self-esteem since seventh grade. You get your face dunked into a toilet so many times, all your self-confidence gets flushed. You get what I’m sayin’?”
He does. Because at the end of the day, there isn’t a single person among the Finding Nolan crew who didn’t experience some degree of trauma as a kid. We were outcasts. Invisibles. Victims. And some days, the hunted. It was a strange and bittersweet twist of fate to go from being hated for being so different, so wrong , to being celebrated and loved, sometimes in spite of flaws far worse than the ones we were burdened with by default as children.
Blaise. Blaise barely existed all throughout school. He went out of his away to hide in the shadows, been terrified to garner any attention at all because he knew what that would get him. Trouble. Kids weren’t kind to other children who came from homes where they weren’t cared for. Who came to school but couldn’t read or write yet because no one was around to help them with their homework. Who had hair that hadn’t been brushed or cut in too long, and lunches that were either absent or consisted of a jar of pickles and ketchup packets because their mother was too unstable to see the difference between that and a real meal.
That was then. Now, there’s no hiding. Blaise is at the center of millions of prying eyes every day. All watching. All adoring.
“Royce.”
“Hm?” I’ve been lost in my thoughts .
“Those assholes, those pieces of shit, they’re all still stuck back there, in that same fucking neighborhood, working some shit jobs keeping them just as depressed and depraved as they’ve always been. They can’t do anything to you now.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “They’re not the ones I’m worried about.”
“Then who? You can’t really think our fans would turn their backs on you. Listen, if they can look past my drug and alcohol addictions, psychotic brother and the fact that I’m openly in love with Ava, no one is going to bat an eyelash when you come out and tell them that you’re dating a dude. If anything, it will be the exact opposite. I mean, think about all the young kids you could help. Inspire. Give strength to. You could be a fucking role model, Royce.”
I throw myself back and hit the cushions of the booth, frustrated. “I know that. I know all of that. Fuck. Don’t you think I know what a fucking coward I’ve been all this time? What a selfish fucking pussy this makes me? I know. I fucking know. But I just...I can’t do it. I can’t be that guy.”
Blaise is confused. “What are you talking about? You can’t be what guy?”
“That guy. The gay guy.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
I shake my head. “No.” I know it doesn’t make any sense and I don’t expect him to understand.
“Royce, you’re in love with a man. That already makes you that guy.” He's getting more and more animated the less he can comprehend things and it's making me panic .
“I know that. But knowing and saying it out loud, owning it...it’s different. You don’t get it. You wouldn’t.” I hang my head. This isn’t going to lead to anything.
Blaise is quiet for a long time. He taps his thumb on the table slowly.
“You’re not scared of how others will see you. You’re afraid that coming out will make you see yourself.”
I glance up, chest heavy, eyes stinging. “Bingo.”
HUDSON
“Hey.”
I open my eyes as little as possible. Apparently pretending to be asleep isn’t going to be as successful in granting me some privacy as I’d hoped.
“What’s up, Angel?”
I don't exactly mean that to be an invitation but judging from the way he steps over my legs and moves my stuff, being stretched out and placing my camera bag on the seat beside me also isn’t going to keep anyone from sitting with me.
“You don’t mind, do you? Derek has spent the last three hours analyzing what Sammy’s last little visit means for their relationship and I can’t fucking take it anymore.”
I sit up and crane my neck to look back to where Derek is busy chatting up Darrel toward the tail end of the plane. Considering there are only seven of us on board, not counting the pilots and stewardess, I'm not all that sure why Angel feels he needs to sit by me of all people, given all the empty seats available, but asking would be an asshole move, and I'm really fucking over people and their asshole moves. I'm in no mood to contribute to the asshole move epidemic.
“Think they’ll work it out in the end?” I'm not sure I really care one way or the other right now, but if I have the choice between talking about Derek’s relationship or mine, I'm definitely going with Derek’s.
“Honestly? I think it’s a fucking train wreck in the making. But I know Derek. He’ll see this through until the very end. It won’t matter how miserable she makes him, he’ll stay in this marriage forever, unless she gets her shit together and walks away for good.”
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe talking about Derek’s relationship isn’t better. “Why do you think he’ll stay?”
Angel shrugs. “He made a promise. He took vows. That shit means something to him. Derek is about the most honorable dude you’re ever gonna meet. That’s why it’s so insane when Sammy comes along accusing him of shit we all know he’d never do, not in a million fucking years.”
The whole thing is getting me thinking. “So, tell me. Has any one of you guys ever had a relationship that was actually worth something?”
Angel looks surprised, as if the question seems odd to him. “Shit, yeah. Have you met Blaise and Ava?”
I snort. “Yeah, okay. Ava and Blaise. Just based on what little I know about her controlling, bossy little ass, I can only imagine how fucking healthy that set up is.”
“Whoa, dude,” he holds up his hands, “I know you’ve had kind of a crash course in terms of what life is like with us, and you and Royce have a thing and all, and I respect that, but talking shit about Ava, that ain’t gonna fly, man. ”
“That’s fine. Whatever. Sorry.” I shift in my seat trying to get back into a sleep worthy position in hopes Angel will get the message. He doesn’t. Or, if he does, he completely rejects it.
“Nah, not whatever. You want to say stuff, say it. But be prepared to have your shit set straight.”
I blow out a loud breath through flared nostrils. I'm way too wound up from the night before to be having this conversation. “Look, all I’m saying is sometimes it seems as if she lets the almighty manager power go to her head. I don’t know what she does for you or Derek, but I’ve seen how she meddles in Royce’s life, so I can only imagine what she must do to Blaise. But hey, if everyone is cool with that, that’s fine by me. I’m just not going to sit by and have her dicking around in my business anymore.”
“First of all,” he sits up straighter, “yeah, she meddles, but we all do. So do you, by the way, or don’t you remember jumping in to help Derek with your little camera trick? Being in everyone’s business is a side effect of always knowing everyone’s business, and when you live the way we do that can’t be avoided.” He takes a breath and I realize there's more. “As far as what she does for Blaise, that’s simple. She loves him. And I don’t mean the pretty kind of love people like to watch in movies or read about in books. This is a battered, bruised and broken, but still standing, kinda love. The kind fucked up individuals like us need, but don’t think for one second we deserve, provided it even exists for us at all. And don’t think we don’t all know that some shit went down between you and Royce last night. No need to have a band meeting to figure out Blaise and Ava staying behind with him has something to do with it. So, while they’re busy putting Royce back together, I’m going to do my part and set you right again.”
His eyes narrow. “I don’t care what happened between you guys. I’m not even taking sides, and believe it or not, I like you, Hudson. I really do. But you need to decide right now what kind of love you’re capable of. Because if it doesn’t exceed Sammy’s limited capabilities, you need to just walk away before this goes any further.” His face relaxes again. “Look, I’m not stupid. I know we ain’t easy to be with. It’s no accident I’m still single. I know damn well I need that battered, beat to shit kind of love from someone, and that’s not something anyone can ask of another person. They have to just give it anyway.”
Then, as unexpectedly as he came, he gets up and leaves again. I don’t bother trying to fake sleep after that. We have hours left on this flight, but I have a pretty good hunch no one else will be coming to talk to me. Angel already said all there is to say.