Cast Off (24 page)

But he hadn’t seen anything that hadn’t been technically the truth. Even though the implication was that Rick had stripped and possibly whored on the side to make ends meet, the truth was Rick had worked at a strip club. And while the story had been cleverly crafted to imply Rick had done far more than bartend, there were no actionable statements. Hell, even if there were photos from Rick’s strip club days, which Avery might be holding back for next week’s conclusion, they could be of Jon. The two of them looked similar enough that a bad photo from fifteen years ago could easily be misattributed. Dammit.

The name change upset the shit out of him. Well, not the name change itself, but the fact that Rick hadn’t told him. After knowing the whole story, he wasn’t surprised Rick had done it, but he’d like Rick to explain why he’d left that little detail out. Worse than that, though, was how the public was going to interpret this story. Whichever of Avery’s pet writers had dug this up, he’d managed to put the worst possible spin on each of Rick’s actions, and Ian wanted to erase every last byte of data in
Errant
’s computers.

God. The story made Rick out to be some sort of demented deviant who might pose a danger to the kids he helped. Whatever fears Rick had about inheriting his mother’s instability, he wasn’t dangerous. There was no doubt in his mind about that. But this story would kill him. He might even blame Ian. And Ian didn’t know how to stop the story from going live.

“
A
VERY
, dammit, you can’t publish this.” Ian banged into Avery’s office; she winced at his arrival and clutched at her temples.

“O’Donnell, what the fuck? Stop fucking shouting.” He’d never seen anyone put so much venom into a whisper, but Avery managed.

“This story.” He brandished Leon’s tablet in front of Avery, and she swallowed heavily as she tried to focus on his bobbing hand.

“What’s wrong? It’s a standard Friday Lost Ones story.”

“You have to pull it.”

“No, I don’t. It’s a great story. You know the policy on stories. People get pissed about our stories. As long as the chief editor approves, nothing gets pulled. This one pushes the libel line, but never crosses.”

“But I know this guy.”

Avery laughed, but cut herself off midcackle and closed her eyes. She was still for so long, Ian almost threw the tablet against the wall to wake her up.

She opened her eyes. “What are you still doing here?”

“Avery, for fuck’s sake. Pull this story.”

“No. It’s a done deal.”

“I know this guy, Avery. Please. This will kill him.”

“Oh, I know you know this guy. It’s going to make the big reveal next week even juicier.”

“What?”

A churning started in Ian’s stomach like he’d been on the bender the night before, not cut himself off after two beers and gone home to virtuously fuck his boyfriend’s brains out.

“I always knew you’d look fine completely naked.” Avery’s leer was ruined by another wince. “You should have told me you were gay. I would have stopped hitting on you. Or I would have offered a threesome with another guy….”

“Holy….” He sank into a nearby chair, tablet slipping from nerveless fingers, the metallic crunch barely even making a blip on his consciousness. Okay, so, he was going to get outed online in the most graphic way possible. His mother would undoubtedly be disappointed, although he didn’t think his family bothered with the site. Most of them were too practical to be interested in the scandalmongering.

“Avery, please. We’re friends. How could you send some photographer to Rick’s house to get compromising pictures?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They came from an anonymous source.”

That fucking stalker. Ian was going to kill him. Or sic his family on the little weasel. Rick may not be convinced it was Oscar, but Ian was. After this, Rick would have no choice but to call the cops and find out for sure.

“Don’t do this, Avery. Pull the story.”

She shrugged, and suddenly he saw the heart of a shark that beat within the breast of a ruthless editor. “This is business. You should know that better than anyone. This is a great story.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s not like he murdered anyone. All he ever did was try to rebuild his life and you’re going to take it away from him.”

“Policy. Sutton approved it. No pulling stories. It would destroy our journalistic integrity. Now get the hell out of my office before I barf all over you.”

Since that wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, Ian scooped up the tablet and left.

Journalistic integrity. How the hell had Avery been able to apply those words to the product they produced and not laugh herself silly?

He stumbled back to his office and shut the door behind him. The only problem was Avery was right. Hector, the owner of
Errant
, was adamant about not pulling stories, because more than one celebrity’s PR person had offered them money to remove stories and had laid down the law years ago—if his Editor in Chief, Randall Sutton, approved, the stories were a go. Even the threat of lawsuits didn’t move him. They’d yet to have a lawsuit that they’d lost.
Errant
’s lawyers were a slippery bunch.

Ian had to tell Rick about the story, but how? Rick would be devastated. He was devastated too. Of course, he didn’t have the second part of the story, no real guarantee the big reveal would say Sandor was Rick, but the stories were so similar, he didn’t have any doubt. And yet, Rick hadn’t bothered to tell him Rick wasn’t his real name.

What did that say about their brand-new relationship? What about the breakthrough Ian had thought he’d had? He had no idea where he stood, and he had no idea what Rick was going to do.

I
AN
paced Rick’s living room instead of sitting on the couch beside Rick. He was too agitated to sit. They were supposed to be having their rescheduled movie night, since Dylan’s rehearsal dinner fell on a Thursday night, but before Ian left work, he’d called Rick to ask if they could watch movies at the house instead. He didn’t expect there would be any movie watching, but neither had he wanted to utter those fateful words “we have to talk.”

“What’s wrong?”

Oh, God. The words slipped out before he could stop them. “We have to talk.”

Rick froze like a statue. Yeah, relationship or not, those words held a lot of power.

“
Errant
is doing a story about you. Part one will post Friday, and part two will post a week from Friday. And the stalker sent them those pictures.”

Ian had seen a movie once where an archeologist found some ancient scroll and the minute he touched it, it crumbled into dust, destroying his life’s work. Watching Rick fall apart at Ian’s words was far too reminiscent of that scene.

Then rage coalesced all those motes of dust into a rampaging animal.

Rick let out a wordless howl and swept a lamp off the end table. He cleared papers and coasters and glasses off the coffee table with a second sweep of his arm before he collapsed back on the sofa and sobbed.

Ian leapt over the broken glass and ceramics to sit next to Rick and hold him close.

“Hey, hey. It will be okay, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that.” He’d never heard Rick sound so defeated; he just hoped that was because Rick’s mouth was muffled by his shirt.

“I can. We can talk to Dylan’s fiancée. She’s a lawyer.”

Ian swallowed heavily. This was where he expected Rick would throw him out. “I don’t know if there’s any way to pull the story. Stephanie’s good, but I don’t think we’ll have enough time to get her involved, especially with the wedding, and there’s not a really great track record for anyone getting stories pulled. But we can talk to her. There’s got to be a way around this, or a way to protect you, even if the story runs. And if there’s not… we’ll weather it together, I promise.”

“I don’t want to tell anyone else. I just want to forget.”

“Shh, shh, I know.” Ian rocked a little, wondering if he was helping at all.

“I’m going to have to change my name again, move away.”

Panic washed through him. He couldn’t let that happen.

“No, no, you don’t have to do that. This will all blow over in time. No one takes those stories seriously.” Shitloads of people read them, but they’d need their heads examined if they took those words as gospel. He had to believe people read
Errant
in the true spirit of the site: entertainment.

Rick lifted tearstained eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Positive. Last Friday was an article about how to tell if your lover was an alien. Come on, now. Even if there are a few clients who read
Errant
, even fewer will likely believe that, at least not without giving you the opportunity to rebut. So you think about talking to Stephanie, or another lawyer if that will make you more comfortable.”

Rick took a deep breath and swiped his hands across his eyes. “I like what I do, Ian. I don’t want to give it up.”

“You don’t have to, I promise.” Somehow, Ian would make that promise come true.

“I suppose you’re right. Not all of my clients will read or believe that story, and if I lose a few clients, well, I’m sure I won’t lose my longtime regulars.”

“See, now, that’s the way to look at it. And you may even gain a few clients. The notoriety seekers.”

Rick made a face. “Ew. Really? Well, I may not be able to be choosy.”

Ian took a deep breath. If Rick wasn’t going to go to a lawyer right now, there wasn’t much point in speculating how the story would affect his business. Not until they knew for sure if it was going to have any effect at all.

“
W
HY
didn’t you tell me about the name change? That’s a huge, huge part of the story that you just… omitted. A part that you can’t convince me you forgot.” It wasn’t precisely a change of subject, but it was part of the puzzle that concerned Ian, especially since they were supposed to be a couple.

“No, I didn’t forget, not exactly. I’m Rick Haviland. That’s who I am. Sandor Svenson went through a lot of shit, but when I became Rick, I fought to leave Sandor behind. As Rick, I put myself through school, I supported myself, I started a practice, I bought a house, I made friends. Sandor had been shunned by family and friends because his mother was a crazy murderer. I’m not Sandor. I haven’t been Sandor in over fifteen years and I’m fucking glad of it.”

“I don’t even understand how anyone found out. I thought changing your name would have prevented anyone from learning who you are.”

Rick shrugged. “It’s not like I was in witness protection or that I was trying to erase my identity. Anyone can go in and change their name, and if someone’s determined enough, they can find the records of my name change. I just didn’t want to carry the stain of the Svenson tragedy for the rest of my life. Moving to a new city and changing my name seemed like the best way to start fresh.”

“So, where did Rick Haviland come from? What made you decide on that?”

“My favorite movie as a kid was
Spaceballs…
.”

“
Spaceballs
.” Ian paused and thought about that for a moment. “Wait. You named yourself after the guy who played Dark Helmet? Seriously?”

Rick chuckled, and Ian thought he’d just about faint with relief. He hated Rick being unhappy.

“Yeah, I thought he was funny. I called myself Richard because I liked the idea of having both a long name and a short. There’s not any good ways to shorten Sandor.”

“Dark Helmet. You really are a geek like the others. No wonder you fit in so well with those guys! What about Haviland?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t really decided on a last name until I got off the subway at the government office where I was going to fill out the paperwork. There was a newspaper box with some article about a de Havilland aircraft. I took off the prefix and changed the spelling. I thought it sounded pretty grand.”

“Well, you’re definitely Rick to me.”

Ian had somehow dodged a fucking bullet because Rick could have blamed him for at least part of this mess. They still had a mountain of stress generated by this story, but they’d muddle through somehow, as long as they were together.

R
ICK
sat on the edge of the bed watching Ian put on a suit before he went to the rehearsal dinner. Ian had stayed at his place every night this week, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. No, he knew how he felt about it. He liked it too damned much. Was this how it was in the early days for his parents? Wanting to spend all their time together? Would he ever think Ian in a suit wasn’t so sizzling hot all he could imagine was stripping him out of it?

He wasn’t particularly thrilled that the rehearsal dinner was on a Thursday, making them miss their movie night. Ian had said something about it being a more reasonable price on a Thursday instead of the Friday before, but that didn’t make Rick any happier.

Every minute he was away from Ian was a minute he spent missing the man. That wasn’t normal, was it? Was his mother’s obsessive, jealous mental illness finally taking root in his own brain?

He also feared becoming a burden. He was so fucking scared about the fallout from this news story. At times he waffled between thinking it wouldn’t matter and deciding if he’d started over as a new person once, he could do it again. The biggest stumbling block to starting all over was that he wouldn’t be able to take Ian with him.

Still, Ian had been so incredibly supportive, trying to get his employer to cut the story, staying with him, reassuring him that no one took
Errant
’s stories seriously anyway. Before this latest roadblock, he’d seriously been considering going to Dylan’s wedding as Ian’s date. Maybe erase the secret label from their relationship. With all the familial eyes on the happy couple, his presence as Ian’s date might go largely unnoticed. The only other friends of his who’d be there would be Kurt and Davy. Neither of them was likely to give him shit about dating Ian, although Kurt might tease Ian.

But with this story supposed to go live the day before the wedding, all he was picturing was a church full of disapproving women in hats, whispering behind their gloved hands before staring at him like his favorite pastime was kicking puppies. He had visions of Ian’s mom pointing at him, escorting her grandchildren out of his presence, and standing up in the middle of the ceremony to have him cast out of the church. In all of those scenarios, he was alone. Painfully alone. Even as Ian’s date, there would be so many things he’d have to do alone. Sit in the church while Ian stood up with his brother. Mingle with the guests while Ian was in the receiving line. Have to tell folks who he was and how he knew the bridal couple while Ian was posing for the photographer. Hell, he might not even be able to eat dinner with his date, if Ian’s brother decided to have one of those enormous head table thingies like he’d seen in the movies.