26. Wallace #3
Oh, so he was son now? After three decades of neglect and bullying, of making sure that everyone knew Wallace was incompetent at his job and had only been promoted through nepotism, now his father wanted to claim him?
Because he was standing up for himself and quitting?
“With all due respect, Father, you can take that promotion and shove it. I’m done. ”
His father leaned over his desk, fists clenched where they met the wood. “I’ll ruin you. You’ll never get another job. And don’t expect to see a cent of your inheritance.”
Wallace laughed. He actually laughed. “You know that I got my trust fund twelve years ago, right? I don’t have to get another job.
But I’ve been thinking about opening a little theater.
Maybe you could give it a bad review?” He wasn’t planning anything of the sort, but it seemed like the best torment.
He was feeling strong, now. On top of the world.
“A theater!” his father sneered. “I always knew you were a pansy.”
Wallace absolutely beamed. He was a pansy. He loved being a pansy. Volt’s pansy.
If, in his father’s world, only effeminate, gay men liked the arts, he was going to embrace it for all it was worth. “Totally a pansy,” he agreed, cheekily. “My boyfriend thinks I’m really cute.”
“What?” his father roared. Somehow, this was the thing that had really set him off.
“Yeah, he loves my sweaters. He takes me to art galleries.” Well, they’d gone to one, but they frequently wandered through the art vendors’ booths at the park near Prism. The details were unimportant. Wallace was enjoying himself now, rubbing it in his father’s face.
He’d burned this bridge and discovered that he could fly.
“Son, you’re a Wollencroft.” He’d never seen his father’s face that particular color of red before.
“I was thinking about changing my name, actually,” Wallace mused. “When we get married.” Also not something that they’d even remotely talked about. But if they did, he would drop his family name like a hot iron. “I’ll send you an invitation.”
His father’s eyes narrowed, going from blazing red to calculating. “You don’t really have a boyfriend. I mean, look at you.” He laughed, intentionally cruel.
Wallace shrugged. “Turns out some men are into this.” He gestured down his body, giving his ass a little shake. “Though he likes me even better in lipstick and lace.” He twirled around, heading for the door.
He didn’t even need to see his father’s stunned face.
He’d won this one.
Hell, he wished that Maxamillion were still here to record the whole thing. Max would have loved this.
“Don’t you dare walk out that door, boy,” his father threatened, footsteps coming up behind him quickly.
Wallace sped up. Would his father really touch him? Beat him? He tried not to shiver. He wanted to believe that it wouldn’t happen, but he wasn’t willing to risk his safety on the off chance.
He ran the last two steps, then yanked the door open. “Oh, hey, Marquita.” Was his voice a little high? Maybe.
She glanced up, startled, then took in Wallace’s father looming behind him.
“It was lovely to talk today. See you around!” Wallace gave her a jaunty little wave, then hauled ass out of there.
By the time he’d ducked around the hallway, he was trembling.
He’d done it! He’d really done it! He’d stood up to his father. He’d quit his job.
His stomach was a little queasy, but he knew this was the right thing.
It was terrifying and exhilarating, and he needed Volt like he needed his next breath.
He took out his phone and thumbed in a text before he even reached the elevator. Daddy, I did it.
Volt’s response was immediate. You quit your job?
Yes!
His phone started ringing. He waited until the elevator doors closed behind him to answer.
“Sweetheart, how are you feeling?”
“Scared? Excited? I told him all about you. He offered me a promotion, and I told him to shove it! Oh, my god. I told him to shove it. And I told him I wear lace. What the fuck was I thinking?” The fear was starting to creep in again. His heart was pounding. What the hell had he been thinking?
His father was the last person he should have said any of that to. And what if his father really could ruin him?
“Creampuff! I’m so proud of you. I’m taking you out tonight. To celebrate. Daddy has a lot of nice rewards for his very, very good girl.”
“Oh, uh, thank you!” he squeaked. The elevator had swung open on his floor and people were waiting to get in. He exited hastily.
But he was feeling better now, more balanced. The swooping butterflies in his stomach were trying to organize themselves into the happy flutter that being with Volt could bring on.
“Can I pick you up at work?” Volt asked.
“Oh, uh,” he lowered his voice. “Today’s not, uh, my last day.” People could still hear him over the walls of their cubicles, and he didn’t want gossip to spread before he could make a formal announcement. “It’ll be Friday.”
“Well, Daddy’s still taking you out tonight, baby. No arguments. Daddy’s rules.”
“Okay,” he agreed, still aware of listening ears. “I can’t wait.”
“Good boy. Can I meet you at work?”
“Maybe, uh, at my place? So I can change clothes?”
“Mmmmm… I like the way you think, pretty girl. Your place at seven. See you then!”
“See you then, Da—” He cut himself off before he could say his favorite word in the hallway. “I mean, looking forward to it.”
“Bye, baby.”
“Bye!”