Maxwell: Not Without Guilt (Phoenix Club) (15 page)

I’m sorry, Seth. But I’ll make it up to you. Once we’re away from here, everything will be better. I’ll let Max go for real. I will.

♦

“A
re you ever coming back to school?” Grid asked as soon as he knew it was Seth calling. “Or you going to spend the rest of your days flying the friendly skies with your hot millionaire?”

“I think he might be a billionaire,” Seth murmured. “Or damn close.”

“So...what?” Grid wondered. “You just dumping school?”

Seth sighed and slipped his hand through his hair. “No. But I might be taking classes somewhere else, though.”

“Where?”

Drawing a deep breath, Seth released it slow. “France.” He swallowed anxiously. “Horatio asked me if I would consider moving with him to the French Riviera.”

A long silence followed his news.

“Grid?”

“You’re not seriously going to go?”

“Actually,” Seth let go another sigh. “I think I might.” He waited. Grid had been his best friend since freshman college, and he knew him well enough by now to anticipate his reaction.

“Look, I like the guy and all,” Grid said. “He seems pretty cool. But fuck, Seth, you don’t really know him. And now you’re talking about moving halfway around the world with him? What’s going on? You were always the sensible one. I was the one who did the stupid shit.”

Seth’s lips tightened as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know, man. I just...” He shook his head. “I just really like him. I mean, a lot. And...” Seth gazed distantly at the wall. “I think he really needs me right now. He’s going through some rough shit, trying to figure stuff out. And I think he needs someone he can talk to and just be with.”

“I get it,” Grid’s tone softened. “I mean, I knew you were gone on him the first time I saw you two together. But this is a huge step to take just to be there for moral support. What happens after he figures everything out? Is he going to dump you?”

“No,” Seth said. “He isn’t like that.” He stood up and paced the bedroom. “Look, I called to see if you could pack my stuff for me. And see if Jamie can get my thesis from Professor Brighton. We’re in the same class.”

“This is insane, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Seth admitted. “But...”

“But you’re falling in love with him.” He couldn’t quite interpret Grid’s tone, whether or not the guy was in favor or not.

Seth bit his lip, throat knotting. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I am.”

“You know,” Grid said. “This is going to totally break Jamie’s heart.”

“Jamie?” Seth frowned. “What’re you talking about? Jamie isn’t into me.”

Grid chuckled low, and Seth could imagine him shaking his head. “Man, for such a smart guy – you’re kind of dumb.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Like I said – dumb.”

“Whatever,” Seth groaned, rubbing his neck. “Can you gather up my stuff? I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be by to get it, but it shouldn’t be too long.”

Grid sighed. “All right. If this is really what you want to do. But this time – at least say goodbye to Jamie, okay? Give him that much.”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Just wait and see the look on his face when you tell him you’re moving overseas with your sugar daddy,” Grid said. “Then you’ll believe me.”

A hard breath rushed up Seth’s throat. “Fine. I guess I’ll see when the time comes. Until then, you’re nuts in my book.”

“Fuck,” Grid smirked. “I’m nuts in
everyone’s
book.”

♦

“H
ey.” Grid rapped on the open door, startling the young man sitting at his desk, hovering over an open book. He looked up, then pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

“Oh, hey, Grid.” A lock of light brown hair dropped across his forehead, and he swiped it away.

“Seth called,” Grid told him. “He asked if you could get his thesis from your English professor.”

Jamie’s dark eyes flitted anxiously back and forth across Grid’s face. “Is he...is he coming back to school?”

Grid leaned against the door frame, hands slipping into the front pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know. He’s talking about leaving.”

“Oh,” Jamie stared down at his book. He looked like a lost, abandoned puppy.

“But,” Grid stepped into the room. “He will have to come back to get his stuff.” Jamie nodded but didn’t look at him. “One last chance to tell him you’re crazy about him?”

“What?” He glanced up quick. “I’m not...”

Grid cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “Yes, you are. So why don’t you tell him?”

“He doesn’t even know I’m alive,” Jamie whispered.

“What’re you talking about?” Grid laughed. “You’re friends.”

The guy shook his head and fidgeted with his pencil. “But he doesn’t see me
that
way.”

“Well, maybe that’s your fault.”

“What do you mean?” Jamie met his stare and held it.

Grid approached the desk. “Well, you practically make yourself invisible. You don’t ever say much or initiate conversation with him. You got to put yourself out there.”

Dropping his gaze, Jamie murmured despondently, “I can’t compete with his rich boyfriend.”

“How do you know?” Grid posed. “Unless you try? If you like the guy, fight for him.”

“With what?”

Grid frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I saw the pictures you guys brought back from your vacation,” he said. “And...that guy was in some of them. Everything about him is perfect. I can’t compete with that.” He shrugged. “I’m just an ugly geek.”

Grid gazed at him. The guy might not be jock status, and he was a little on the skinny side, but he still had an appeal to him. Being straight, Grid couldn’t say for sure, but he could see how another gay guy might find Jamie to be cute. His soft features and long lashes that framed shy eyes...if he were a girl, Grid would find him attractive.

“You’re not ugly,” Grid assured. “And so you’re a bit of a geek, who cares? Nothing wrong with that.” He smirked. “Seth can be a little nerdy himself at times.”

His face scrunching a little, Jamie looked at him. “You’re not gay. How would you know whether or not I’m ugly to other gay guys?”

Grid chuckled. “Look. I’m secure enough in my masculinity to admit when another guy is good looking. And you are. You just hide your handsome face behind glasses.” He ruffled Jamie’s hair. “And that mop of hair.”

“Quit,” Jamie laughed and jerked away.

Smiling, Grid said, “My suggestion is, get a haircut and maybe trade in the glasses for contacts. And,” He looked him over. “Don’t wear such loose-fitting clothes. You have a decent build, but your baggy clothes make you look skinnier than you are. And get it done before Seth comes back,” Grid winked. “Show him what he’s missing.”

Jamie looked doubtful. “None of that is going to make me as handsome as the other guy.”

“So?” Grid said, then chuckled. “Fuck, none of us is as handsome as that guy. Don’t try to be someone else. Just be yourself. You’re good enough as
you.
And if Seth can’t see that, it’s his loss.”

♦

W
hen Horatio entered the courtroom alone, a strained look on his face, a sliver of guilt jabbed Max. Had he inadvertently said something to Seth to make him feel unwelcome? He hadn’t meant to. Despite how much it hurt to see Horatio with someone else, he did want the man to be happy, to have someone he could freely love and make a life with. Max had been trying to let Seth know he wasn’t an outsider. But maybe the kid had read something else into his words. After all, Max had openly admitted to caring for Horatio and hadn’t lied about how much it had hurt to walk away from him.
Maybe you should have just kept your mouth shut and left well enough alone.

Horatio approached the front of the courtroom slowly, a hesitation in his step. He glanced at Max but didn’t speak to him as he made his way forward to speak with Jensen and Abel.

“Didn’t Seth come back with him?” Carl asked.

“Doesn’t look that way,” Max murmured.

Carl clucked his tongue. “All right, what did you say to him?”

“What?” Max stared at him. “Nothing. I was nice.”

“Uh huh.” Carl gazed at him skeptically, then chuckled and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I know you were nice.”

Max smiled and shook his head, then gave him a warning look. “Don’t be messing with me, boy. I’ll have to whip you good.”

A grin spread across Carl’s face. “Looking forward to it.”

Max shook his head and laughed softly. “You’re bad.”

When they took their seats, Horatio didn’t join them as before, but sat on the aisle end of the third bench, one row behind Max and Carl. The tense look on his face remained, and he seemed to be having a hard time focusing on the proceedings at hand. Max knew that distant look in his eyes, was well aware of where it took the man. It took Max to the same place.

Carl glanced at Horatio then leaned close to Max. “Is he all right?”

Casting him one more look, Max shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.

“Maybe you should go talk to him.”

Max leaned forward and shook his head. “I don’t think he wants to talk to me right now.”

Carl started to say something more, when the court was called to order, and soon after, Abel returned to the stand. Max shoved away all thoughts of Horatio and focused on Abel. The boy retained a pale, sick look to him. In the row ahead, he could feel the tension wafting off both Cole and Gabe. Max’s gaze jumped to Bronson Tate as the man stood up and approached the witness stand.

You’d better be careful, asshole. These two boys won’t hesitate to rip your fucking head off if you hurt their baby.

♦

T
he man approached him like a predator sizing up his prey. Abel sat stiff and anxious. It had been bad enough having to talk about this in front of everyone with Jensen asking the questions. Jensen, who had his best interests in mind. Tate’s mission was to discredit him.

“What is your current occupation?” Tate asked. Abel hadn’t expected this to be his first question.

“I’m taking business management courses at the moment,” he said, uncertain of the relevance of the question.

“Any specific reason you chose business management?”

“Yes,” Abel answered slowly. “My boyfriend plans to open his own practice eventually, and I want to be able to help him run it.”

“Your boyfriend,” Tate nodded. “And what is your boyfriend’s name?”

Abel licked his lips slowly. “Doctor Devlin Grant.”

“Devlin Grant.” Tate mulled the name over. “Would he be any relation to Craig Grant?”

Anxiety tied up Abel’s guts. The man was trying to trap him somehow, yet he had no choice but to answer. “His brother.”

“So, let me get this straight.” He held up one finger pointedly. “You are now dating the
brother
of the man whose life you took five years ago?”

“Yes,” Abel murmured.

“I see.” Tate went silent a moment, then asked, “And how did Devlin Grant react when he learned that you were his brother’s killer?”

The emphasis he put on “killer” jarred Abel. He had always viewed his actions as self-defense. The words “kill” and “murder” rarely came to mind. But hearing them spoken aloud by the prosecutor filled him with a sick dread; he had
killed
a man. Taken a human life.

“He...” Abel glanced at Devlin, the memory of that day hitting him full force.
You’re a fucking liar, Abel! My brother was good! You think I’m going to take the word of some fucking little whore over my own brother! Fuck you!

Tears burned and Devlin’s face swam before him as the man slowly ducked his head as he too clearly recalled that awful day.

“Please answer the question,” Tate said.

“He didn’t take it well,” Abel admitted.

“Can you elaborate?”

Abel lowered his eyes. Devlin still hurt from the things he’d said to Abel. He hated having to throw it back in his face now, before everyone. “He...he accused me of lying, when I told him what Craig had done to me.”

“What did he say exactly?”

“He said...” Abel swallowed thickly, “He said his brother was a good man, and that...” His eyes filled. “And that he wasn’t going to take the word of a whore over his own brother.” He closed his eyes as tears gathered on his lashes. He was wounding Devlin with every word he spoke.

Tate released a slow breath. “Why would he call you a whore?”

Abel looked up, pulse quickening. Devlin had said it in reference to him selling himself to Horatio Kaplan. Did he have to
say
that? It was bad enough having to drag Devlin into this, but would he have to incriminate Horatio as well?

“I was working as a stripper at the time,” he murmured, praying the man wouldn’t push for more.

“Mm-hm.” Tate looked at him. “And how old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“And how long were you a stripper?”

“A year,” Abel said.

“And you found this to be an honorable profession?” Tate wondered. “Taking your clothes off for strange men?”

Abel’s gaze jumped to Max and the others from the club. “It was a job,” he said quietly. “And I needed the money.”

“And there were no other jobs to be found?”

The man was backing him into a corner. Did he admit that the reason he hadn’t looked for a regular job was because he had been hiding from the law?

“I didn’t look.”

“Why?” Tate pushed. “Did you like the idea of dancing nearly nude for the entertainment of lustful men?”

“It was a job,” Abel repeated, voice tight. “I needed money to take care of my sister. I really didn’t care what I had to do.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wondered if he’d made a mistake.

Tate nodded slowly. “I believe you.” A faint smile mocked Abel from the corners of the man’s mouth. “What else did you do for this money you were in such desperate need of?”

“Private dances for individual customers brought in more pay,” Abel admitted.

“Did you have sex with these customers?”

“No,” Abel frowned. “I just danced.”

A thoughtful look crossed the man’s face. “And the money you made
dancing
,” he said. “That was enough to take care of your sister? As well as pay rent, lights, utilities?”