Do not read further if you are not of legal age. All the usual disclaimers and copyright laws apply. This story is the second volume in the "Doing Hard Time" saga.
LOVE IS ALL THAT MATTERS ~ Chapter 20 ~
From the Narrative of Harrison Ridgeway IV:
"Do you really have to go?" asked Josh, putting on his best puppy-dog expression as we cuddled together in bed the next morning.
I laughed. "Yes. I can't afford to be late on my first day of work."
Looking dejected, he said, "If you insist ..."
"Come on, cheer up," I cajoled him. "It's not like I won't be back -"
Josh didn't let me finish my sentence. "Don't. Not even as a joke. I couldn't bear being separated from you again."
I felt a lump in my throat. I made an attempt to be cheerful. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Now, will you let me go?"
Josh looked deep into my eyes before reluctantly releasing his grip around my waist.
"Thank you. And for that, you get an extra-special good morning kiss." I suited my actions to my words. After a long and profound French kiss, I finally managed to untangle myself from him and headed into the shower.
I already had the job, but I still felt nervous. It wasn't so much the actual work that I feared, although admittedly I'd never worked before, but the people. I'm usually nervous about meeting new people. Fortunately, there was at least one person I already knew at Fernley & Ashmore, and he happened to be the senior partner.
"Just one more signature - here," said Mr. Fernley. I signed my name on the dotted line he indicated on the contract.
"That's the lot of it - you're officially hired." He smiled. "Don't look so anxious. We work hard here at F&A, but that doesn't mean we're all work and no play. We have some very nice people here and I'm sure you'll agree once you get to know them. I'll get you started, shall I? I've told Stephanie - she's in charge of your division - to show you around."
I was still a little tongue-tied. I managed to say, "Thank you, sir."
He frowned slightly. "I haven't mentioned to her - or anyone else - about your sexuality. That's entirely up to you to disclose, if you should wish to. But rest assured, no one here will judge you for it. You wouldn't be our first openly- gay employee. Phil, who's also in your section, has worked with us for more than five years and he gets along very well with everyone here."
"Oh." I felt unsure about my feelings on that matter. There was, after all, no longer any reason to hide, but I still didn't exactly feel comfortable flaunting the fact that I was gay to everyone.
Mr. Fernley continued, "I have, however, told her about the - incident, shall we call it? And I've instructed her not to let any of the other staff question you about it."
I felt extremely grateful to Mr. Fernley. I had dreaded having to explain my role in Dean's gay-bashing. "Thank you so much, sir."
"There's no need to thank me. Just work hard at your job and that's all the thanks I need. We might not have many large firms in our clientele - in fact, we only have one that's headquartered here in Corona Beach - but we do serve a lot of loyal clients and I don't like to let them down."
"I promise I'll do my best, sir."
"Good. Harrison - can I call you Harrison? Or would you prefer Harry?"
I looked at him strangely. "Um ... it's only my boyfriend who calls me that, sir."
"Oh, right. Then Harrison it is. Just remember, work hard and make friends." He pressed the intercom and spoke into it. "Please send in Miss Lee."
Stephanie Lee was a fairly attractive woman of Asian descent who looked to be in her early thirties. She greeted me cheerfully with a twinkle in her eye.
"Welcome to F&A - although we don't usually refer to ourselves using the acronym. We have a more innovative name but I'm afraid I can't say it in front of the boss."
Mr. Fernley looked amused. "No doubt because it involves a misuse of my surname. Harrison, this is Stephanie Lee. Stephanie, this is Harrison Ridgeway, who'll be working under you. So, if you would be so kind as to show him around the office and to his own cubicle ..."
"Of course, sir." Turning to me she said, "Come along." I said a final thank you to Mr. Fernley and followed Stephanie out into the office.
She gave a brief commentary as we walked down the corridor. "The audit division has this part of the office over here. The drinking fountain is over there, and the rest of the facilities - including the absolutely necessary coffee machine - can be found in the staff lounge here. Luckily it's right next to us - much to the dismay of the guys over in Taxation."
I couldn't help grinning.
"Ah, so you can smile," she said, while smiling herself. I blushed.
She shook her head in amusement. "You looked so very serious just now in Adrian's office. Relax, we don't bite."
"That depends," interrupted a new voice with a vague accent. I turned around to see its owner.
There were no suppositions about this guy's looks - he was hot, plain and simple. He had straight dark brown hair and his handsome face could have been sculpted out of the finest marble. I'm getting a little poetic here, but you get the picture. His appearance was having a weird effect on me. It seemed that every time I laid eyes on a hot guy, my hormones would go out of control. What was this? It wasn't so long ago that even if I did spot a good-looking guy, I would suppress any attraction I might have towards him. Nowadays I felt like a giddy love-struck teenager. I sternly reminded myself that I was way past adolescence - and I had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who was madly in love with me. I told myself to push all lustful thoughts that didn't involve Josh out of my head.
Unfortunately, the guy in front of me wasn't going to make things easy. "Where did you pick up this cutie?" he asked, eyeing me with unconcealed interest. That was enough to set me blushing again.
Stephanie sighed. "Phil, paws off the newbie. He might not appreciate your advances." To me she said, "Phil is our resident gay guy. And he may try to hit on you, because you are admittedly too cute for your own good."
By this point I didn't think my face could go a deeper shade of pink.
Stephanie said, with a trace of sympathy, "We aren't trying to purposely embarrass you. I was just going to say, if Phil tries anything, you call me and I'll take care of him."
"Hey!" Phil looked hurt. "You're making me out to be a sexual predator. And without even introducing me to the newbie!"
I extended my hand and said mechanically, "Harrison Alistair Ridgeway the Fourth."
He raised his eyebrows. "Okay ... Since we're on full name terms here, I'm Philippe Languedoc St-Remy Montpellier."
I blinked. He added, with a grin, "But around here they just call me Phil."
"You're French," I voiced my realization out loud. "
He shrugged. "Yeah, but from the real thing, not Canada. I practically grew up in America, though. Both my parents were attached to the French embassy here since I was about six. They retired the same year I got into Stanford, so I stayed behind while they went back to France. And then I found my permanent home here in California." He sounded like an average American except for a slight accent, which, to my dismay, I found rather sexy. It didn't help when he added with a wink, "But I'm still very much in touch with my French roots - you know we're a very romantic people, right?"
Stephanie glared at him. "Are you still trying to flirt with him? I don't think he likes it. Look, you've scared him into silence."
Phil looked genuinely guilt-stricken. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
I managed to find my voice. "It's okay, I don't really mind." And then, surprising even myself, I added, "I'm gay, too." Where did that admission come from? I hadn't meant to reveal that piece of information to my colleagues so soon.
The two of them stared at me and despite what Mr. Fernley had said, I was starting to get a little worried by the silence. Stephanie was the first to speak. "Damn it, why is it the cute ones are always gay?"
"You're out of luck, Steph. Though your husband will be pleased," Phil said gloatingly. To my look of surprise he replied, "Oh yes, she's married . with a whole brood of kids to boot."
"I have only three kids," she snapped. She added to me, "You've really gone and sealed your fate now. Phil is never going to leave you alone."
Okay, I told myself, think quickly and nip this in the bud. Otherwise Phil wasn't going to be the only one getting horny ideas.
"Would it make a difference if I had a boyfriend?" I asked.
Phil's face fell. "A boyfriend?" He sighed loudly. "This is not my lucky day either. The first gay colleague I get and he already has a boyfriend. And here I am at thirty without having met my life partner."
"You're thirty?" I asked in surprise. He certainly didn't look it.
"Well, I'd be asking if Mr. Fernley wasn't breaking child labor laws by hiring you, but yes, I'm thirty."
"I'm twenty-two!" I protested, feeling a twinge of annoyance. Child labor laws indeed! I wondered grumpily why everyone thought I was still in my teens, conveniently forgetting how I'd had the same thought myself just a few moments earlier. Blame it on raging hormones.
"To be fair, you do look much younger than 22, but definitely not young enough to be considered child labor," said Stephanie, trying to make peace. "Phil ... just because you can't have him doesn't mean you can't play nice."
"I always play nice," he said with a wounded expression which strangely reminded me of Josh.
Suddenly Stephanie's cell phone rang. "I have to take this. I'm sorry, Harrison. I'll introduce you to everyone else later, okay? Phil, can you show him to his cubicle? It's the empty one next to yours. And BE NICE!" she warned as she went into her own cubicle to take the call.
I jumped when Phil put his hand on my arm. "Relax. I promise I won't hit on you since it's clearly making you uncomfortable."
"Really?" I didn't quite believe him, considering how flirtatious he'd been earlier. And I wasn't sure that I actually wanted him to stop.
"Hey, I am not the sexual predator Steph made me out to be. I know when my attentions aren't wanted. I especially don't hit on guys who already have boyfriends. I promise I'll put my wicked desires aside and let you do your work." He winked, but sounded sincere enough.
I decided to test him and satisfy my curiosity at the same time. "I'm glad to hear it. By the way, what desires did you have in mind, exactly?"
"Er ... are you sure you want to know? It's not something I'm proud of -" My curiosity was definitely piqued now. I glared at him intently and forced him to divulge the details.
Looking embarrassed, he admitted, "Something along the lines of throwing you on a table, ripping your clothes off and ravishing you."
"Hmm, sounds delightful." A brief glimmer of hope appeared in his brown eyes. I acted quickly to dash it by adding, "I'll suggest it to my boyfriend when we're in the mood for kinky sex."
"Okay, I get it," he said in a defeated tone. "No more flirting. But we can be friends?" he asked, with a hint of pleading in his smooth, sexy voice.
Concentrate, Harrison! I told myself sternly. To him I said, "We are going to be working together. So yes, we can be friends. One condition though - can I call you Phil?"
"Unless you prefer the full version?" he joked. I hurriedly shook my head. I didn't even remember it past Philippe.
He grinned. "And I'll call you Harrison."
"It's a deal." We shook hands.
"I for one am glad that there's finally someone I can discuss gay stuff with." Seeing the worried expression on my face, he added, "Don't panic, I'm not going to ask for details of how good the sex is."
"Oh, good. Because you aren't going to get any out of me. I'm still relatively new to the gay sex experience."
He raised his eyebrows and said seductively, "If you need a guide ..." Then he stopped himself by clamping his hands over his mouth.
"Sorry! I know, I promised. But it slipped out. I couldn't help it." He looked at me with wide innocent eyes.
I couldn't resist laughing. I could tell that he was just pulling my leg. It was going to be fun working with him - as long as I didn't let it go any further than that.
"Okay, can you show me my cubicle now?" I asked.
"Sure, right this way," he said, giving a very theatrical bow and making me laugh again.
That was Monday. On Thursday evening, I came home smiling to myself as I remembered one of Phil's endless jokes - something that didn't go unnoticed.
"You're looking pleased," noted Mom as I walked into the kitchen. "I take it everything's going alright at the office?"
"It's been great, Mom," I said enthusiastically. "I think I'm actually starting to get the hang of it now. I already know everyone in my section and I'm just getting to know the rest. And some of them are really, really nice." That last sentence referred to Phil more than anyone else.
Mom smiled as she grated cheese on top of the lasagna she was making. "I'm glad you've fitted in so well within a week."
"Where are Josh and Reid?" I asked as I grabbed a plum from the fruit basket.
"Hmm?" Mom said absent-mindedly. "Oh, Josh had some errands to run. And I think Reid is practicing for the surfing competition next month. And don't let the juice dribble onto your shirt; I have to do all the washing now and as much as I love you, I don't fancy scrubbing out stains from your shirt."
I blinked at the sudden change in topic. "Okay, Mom."
Spotting the day's newspaper, which I hadn't read yet, I sat down at the table and flipped through it while munching on the plum. Mom placed the lasagna in the oven and set the timer. Just then the doorbell rang.
I started to get up but Mom said, "No, you sit and finish your fruit. I'll get it."
I nodded and continued my perusal of the newspaper. I was so engrossed in trying the puzzle on the back page that I didn't hear the raised voices at first. I looked up from the paper. One of the voices belonged to Mom, but the other was equally familiar ... Dad?
I suddenly felt a chill run down my spine. It wasn't a big surprise that Dad could have found out where we were staying - after all, it had been more than a week and, considering the resources at Dad's disposal, I was surprised it hadn't been sooner.
I slowly folded the newspaper. Dad sounded really angry. I could hear the word "divorce" being mentioned. I realized that Mom's attorney must have served him the divorce papers. I got up and crept along the hallway, mentally preparing myself to go out and confront Dad if he got violent. I had almost turned the corner that would bring me to the front door when when I heard Mom say, "Not so loudly, Alistair! He's home and he might hear you."
I stopped in my tracks. What was it that Mom didn't want me to hear?
"I don't care about that bastard!" Dad shouted. "You're coming back with me."
"Please, Alistair! I'm sick and tired of this. I can't be your wife anymore. Not now that I know what you did to him. How could you?"
"How could I? How could you? We've been married for nearly 30 years and now you want to leave me over some bastard child who isn't even yours!"
Those words cut deeper than any knife. My world came crashing down around me.
"Please, Alistair! Keep your voice down!" Mom pleaded.
Out of their sight, I slowly sank to the floor.
"I couldn't care less if that bastard knew that he was adopted! At least then everyone will know that I didn't really have a faggot for a son!"
"Alright!" Mom screamed. "Alright. I'll put a stop to the divorce proceedings. Just don't - don't let him know the truth."
I didn't hear any more of their conversation. I suppose there must have been more to it. Mom managed to get rid of him somehow. But my mind was somewhere else entirely. The woman I loved the most in the world wasn't really my mother. And what was Phoebe then - my protective elder sister? She was never really that, I realized. I didn't have an adorable baby nephew. I didn't know who I was. My whole life was a lie. And I had allowed myself to be beaten by a man who wasn't my biological father. Of course I saw the reason behind the beatings now - he hadn't cared about me at all, because I wasn't his son at all. Pathetic. That was what I was.
I felt numb - drained of emotion, as I leaned back against the wall. Mom shut the front door and almost tripped over my legs as she turned into the hallway.
"Harrison?" She looked pale and horrified, holding a hand to her chest. "No ... you didn't hear?" Even she realized the pointlessness of that question.
The voice that replied didn't sound like my own. It sounded cold and flat - dead. "So who am I, Mom? Can I even call you that?"
"No, Harrison." She shook her head desperately. "Nothing Alistair said was true."
"Then why did it make you agree to not divorce him?"
"I -" Mom looked at a loss for words. "Harrison, you're my youngest child. I want you to know that. No matter what Alistair says, you've always been - and always will be - my baby boy."
I looked her bleakly. "Then it's true. I'm not your son. And you're not my Mom. Phoebe isn't my sister."
"No, Harrison. It isn't like that," Mom cried. "I swore from the moment I set eyes on you, that I'd love you as if you were my own child. I loved you more than I did Phoebe, even though she was biologically mine."
Not paying attention to anything she said, I shouted, "You deceived me! You let me worship a man who beat me - because I thought he was my father!"
Mom protested, "Harrison, I didn't know -"
I cut her off. "You know what I told myself every time he hit me with his belt? I told myself that he only wanted the best for me - his son. But I was never his son!" I yelled at her. "It was all for nothing!"
Mom's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. If I had, I would never have let it happen. Whatever Alistair did, to me, you were always my child."
Mom tried to put her arms around me. I pushed her aside roughly.
"Harrison, please! I couldn't bear to be parted from you. I wanted the bond that we shared, between a mother and son, to last forever. That's why I never told you the truth. Harrison, please forgive me. I'm sorry for what your father did." She was out of breath and beads of sweat formed on her brow, but I didn't notice. I was past caring.
My mother - no, the woman I'd thought was my mother - had lied to me. She'd lied to me for every single day of my fucking life, about my parents, my family, even my name. I didn't have any right to the name Harrison Alistair Ridgeway IV. I got up from the floor and said quietly, in that voice which belonged to someone else, "He was never my father - just like you were never my mother."
Mom reeled back as if she'd been slapped. She struggled to rise. "Harrison, don't leave me!" She pleaded with me breathlessly, as if every word took a great effort.
On any other occasion, I would have run to her if I'd heard that heart-rending plea. I would, at the very least, have noticed that something was wrong. But now I didn't see, or feel, anything - other than emptiness. It was as if where my heart was, there was only a hollow. I turned away from her.
"Harrison, please ." she gasped, clutching her chest. Then she toppled forward. I heard a thud and turned around quickly to see her lying prone on the floor.
"Mom?" I asked uncertainly. My blood ran cold when she didn't move.
I knelt down beside her. "Mom!" I turned her over. Her blue eyes - which people always said were so like my own, although I now knew it couldn't possibly be genetic - flickered.
"Don't leave me," she whispered.
"No, Mom, I won't. I promise I won't." The numbness that had overcome me earlier dissolved and I was crying helplessly. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean any of those things I said."
"You'll ... always be ... my son," she gasped.
"No!" I was in shock. This couldn't be happening. "Mom! Stay with me. Please ..." I begged her. What had I done?
Her eyes met mine and I saw, reflected in their watery depths, the unconditional love that I'd scorned due to events that had been out of her control. I would have unsaid all the hurtful things I'd said in the last few minutes if I could, but it was too late for that.
And as those brilliant blue eyes closed, I prayed that it wasn't too late for Mom either.
To be continued . . .
A cliffhanger for the landmark twentieth chapter! Hope you've all enjoyed it, although I had to take a break from the Caleb & Julian prison subplot. Let me know what you think of this chapter, and previous ones, by emailing me at justinr_88@yahoo.com. I love hearing from you guys, and it makes writing this story worthwhile. Next chapter to follow soon.