Chapter 13
thirteen
. . .
The clammy heat of the worst sort of embarrassment Javier could imagine crept up his neck and down his back as he kicked his way through the muddy undergrowth around the lake to get away from Gordon and his new friends.
“I don’t want to go down with the ship.” Those words, dropped so casually from Gordon’s smarmy mouth, had stabbed straight through the shield of happiness that he’d fought so hard and so carefully to maintain during his time with Desmond.
They stuck to him like burrs and flew in his face like buzzing insects that he couldn’t swat away as he hurried to get as far from Gordon as he could.
Worst of all, Desmond had heard those words. He’d heard Gordon imply that he was a failure, that he wasn’t the strong and steady boyfriend he enjoyed being on the weekends, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
“I’m sorry,” Desmond called out from just behind him, making Javier stop and turn to wait for his maybe-but-maybe-not boyfriend to catch up to him.
“Baby, what are you sorry for?” Javier asked, trying to sound like his usual, playful and confident self, but probably sounding more like the spiky, sour queen he was.
Desmond was watching the ground he trod across instead of watching where he was going and nearly ran headlong into Javier. Their bodies nudged clumsily together, and Javier’s foot slipped, proving the ground under him was slicker than he’d thought it was.
Desmond took a moment to steady himself and blink up at Javier as he stabilized. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “It seemed like the right thing to say after that…whatever it was.”
Despite everything, a slow smile spread across Javier’s face.
“You don’t need to apologize for someone else being a dick,” he said.
“For a couple someone elses being dicks.” He raised a hand to brush his knuckles over Desmond’s cheek.
It was probably a bit too much PDA for Kew Gardens, but Javier desperately wanted to feel like they were back in their bubble again, where real life couldn’t rear its ugly head and ruin everything.
But it was too late for that.
“What sort of rumors has Matthew been spreading about you?” Desmond asked with an all too serious face as they fell into step side by side, still walking around the lake, but staying off the path to avoid people.
Javier sighed. “Rules are rules, Desmond. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
That might have worked on any other weekend, or if they were safe behind the walls of Desmond’s house, but all bets were off in the expanse of nature.
“I’m not sure I like these rules anymore.” Desmond stopped in a slightly less muddy patch close to the footbridge. A group of ducks that had been snacking on soggy plants glanced up at them, then shuffled away as though their duckly dignity was offended.
Just what he needed, more people disapproving of his efforts to live his life and watch his dreams die in private.
“I didn’t make the rules,” Javier said with what he hoped was a casual shrug.
“Actually, you did,” Desmond said, crossing his arms defensively and standing his ground with eerie persistence.
Although Javier didn’t know why he was surprised.
Desmond was a financial executive who had fired a man before his eyes.
He sometimes forgot that when the two of them were snuggled on the sofa together watching quiz shows or cooking an elaborate supper together that they would eat in the sunroom.
His Desmond, the one he had all to himself on weekends, was a different man entirely in his weekday life.
It suddenly occurred to him that that sucked.
He didn’t think he was going to be able to get anything past weekday Desmond, and he was afraid of what the fallout from that would be.
Javier sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I can manage the rumors,” he lied. “It’s just the way the fashion and entertainment worlds work.”
“Matthew is involved,” Desmond countered. “Clearly, things are personal now.”
Javier winced and sighed again. He twisted toward the pond and lifted his arms as if asking the universe for help, then glanced back toward the path, where at least four families with kids were within earshot of their conversation.
He didn’t want kids to overhear some of the unsavory stuff he had to say, or the curse words that would probably accompany it all, so he gestured for Desmond to follow him over the footbridge and on to a slightly more secluded, though equally muddy and slippery, spot on the lake’s far side.
Maybe he could explain enough to satisfy Desmond without saying so much that his part-time boyfriend would realize how much of a fuck-up he actually was and leave him.
A shiver of terror at that thought swept through him as he opened his mouth to say, “The rumors aren’t anything special or earth-shattering. I’ve built my brand on ethics and integrity and on treating my talent fairly.”
Desmond’s face flushed, and he glanced down at the mud under his feet. If he had that sort of a reaction to Javier’s introduction to the problem, there was no way the rest of the explanation would go well.
“Rumors got out there that I was cheating my employees and sexually harassing the talent,” Javier went on.
Desmond’s head snapped up, and a look of rage filled his beautiful face. “That’s absurd,” he said. “But it’s exactly the sort of thing Matthew would accuse others of. Every accusation is an admission in disguise.”
Javier smiled. He couldn’t help himself. There was no feeling in the world as wonderful as someone he deeply cared about believing him and not lies told about him.
That didn’t change the rest of the truth, though.
“The problem is, enough people out there in the industry apparently do believe the lies that it’s—” He didn’t want to say it.
He absolutely didn’t want to say it. Saying it out loud would make it real, and once one snippet of reality made its way into the weekend boyfriend bubble, the whole thing might pop.
“It’s affected business,” he said as vaguely as possible.
Of course, Desmond didn’t leave it there.
“How is it affecting business?” he asked, crossing his arms again and rubbing his chin with one hand, like he was leading a corporate meeting and already trying to come up with strategy and solutions.
Just like that, sweet, cuddly, plant-loving, gently subby boyfriend Desmond was gone and take-charge, solve every problem, high-powered businessman Desmond took his place.
High-powered businessman Desmond was kind of sexy, but not what Javier needed just then.
Javier pinched his face and made a suffering noise as he glanced up to the blue sky and puffy, white clouds. He wasn’t going to get around this. After protecting Desmond from his failures for nearly three months, he was going to have to confess all.
“I’ve lost more than a few models,” he admitted, still looking up at the sky. Desmond deserved better than evasion, though, so he lowered his head and met his gaze. “And a couple contracts with fashion houses and media outlets.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Desmond said, thoughts swirling in his eyes. “Didn’t you have contracts with them?”
“I did,” Javier admitted. “And maybe that’s my fault, because in my horrifically misguided attempt to create a non-exploitative environment, I had clauses that would give everyone a way out in those contracts.”
“It’s never misguided to attempt to be ethical,” Desmond said, a little too quietly, turning away and lowering his head.
Javier frowned at the gesture. He was the one who had something to be ashamed of, not Des, so why did he feel like he needed to wrap his arms around the man and tell him everything would be alright?
He went on with, “It just burns that I’ve tried to build this entire brand on transparency and fair treatment, and now I’m in danger of losing it all because someone else is lying and turning people against me.”
As soon as he said that, he wished he hadn’t. Desmond glanced up at him again with a concerned look. “Do these people you’ve been working with actually believe the lies?”
“They believe them enough to cancel contracts,” Javier said, a bit too bitterly.
“They don’t sound like the sort of people you should be doing business with, then.”
Javier appreciated his lover’s loyalty, but facts were facts. “I’m at a point in building my business where I have to take what I can get.”
“Like singing telegram jobs?” Desmond asked, the ghost of humor dancing across his expression.
Javier let out a breath and relaxed by a hair. “And stupid corporate training videos, yes.”
“But there’s more work out there, right?” Desmond went on, back into business strategist mode. “There have to be more designers and magazines you could court.”
There were, at least Javier hoped there were, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about the suggestion coming from Desmond.
“Honey, you know I…care about you,” he said, stepping forward to take Desmond’s hands and narrowly avoiding duck poop and the L word, “but this is something I need to deal with myself.”
Desmond frowned. “Why? I mean, I understand the pride of handling your own business and making something for yourself independent of help, but I clearly had a hand in creating the problem, so I would like to join you in figuring out how to fix it.”
Javier’s expression shot up so fast he was surprised his perfectly plucked eyebrows didn’t fly right off his head. “You didn’t have anything to do with this,” he said.
“Matthew did,” Desmond insisted, shaking his head, “and the only reason you’re dealing with him is because of me.”
“No, my agency was falling apart even before Valentine’s Day.”
His own words hit him like a fist in the gut. He hadn’t meant to come right out and say that. He hadn’t intended to tell Desmond how perilous things were at all. That was the entire point of the arrangement they had. They were supposed to be each other’s escape, not an addition to their problems.