Page 83 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man
“Bingo.”
“That’s…despicable,” I glowered. “Don’t let Seb do that. Don’t let your brother have a dime.”
“It would be more like a million or two. And I know that sounds like a lot, but it’s pocket change to Rourke Studios.” He swigged the last of his wine and set it on the other end of the bench. “They’ll want to keep him quiet. Baxter wouldn’t befriend an old guy and cheat his brother out of a small fortune, and if there was even an inkling that Pierce Allen would do such a thing…PR nightmare.”
“Geez.”
“I know.” He was quiet for a minute. “I still wonder why my mom never mentioned her cousin.”
His mother was the one person Pierce never talked about. She was gone, but she was obviously the common denominator here. I hated to pry, but I was too curious now.
“What was she like?”
Pierce narrowed his eyes and stared into the distance. “She was…beautiful, complicated. She was into gardening and embroidering, and she liked cats. She was a secretary at the local junior college. She was smart, but she was kind of…tired, beaten down.”
“Oh.”
“She and my dad were terrible together. They hated each other. She came from one side of the tracks, he came from the other. All the qualities that excited them at one point became their greatest faults. He drank too much and she liked it when he passed out, so she made sure there was always booze around. They were the stereotypical abuser and enabler.
“You can imagine that was a great environment to grow up in. A constant battle raged between them and kids were just…fuel for the fire. Phil was like my dad—and me…fuck, I never wanted to be like either of them.”
“Oh.”
“You asked me once if my mother was my champion. The answer is no, she wasn’t. But we connected sometimes. We were buddies when I was younger. I’d help her pull weeds in the garden or we’d watch movies together. An hour here, an hour there. Throwaway moments you don’t think about until they’re gone.” He shifted to face me and gave a humorless laugh. “My mom helped me pack and held the door open for me when I was a teenager, and that—that fucked with my head. I knew that she was going through her own shit with my dad, but…she let me go so fucking easily, and I hated her for it.”
“She came around, though, right?” I whispered, reaching for his hand.
“I think so…yeah. Maybe. She called when she left Dad and needed a place to stay. Just a week, she said. I bought her a condo in Studio City, and she never left. I want to think we were healing, you know? Like maybe she could forgive me for not being the son she wanted, and I could forgive her for letting me go. I thought we’d put the worst behind us. We talked all the time—not about anything major, but I thought we were better. Then she got sick and…she was gone. And I wasn’t ready to say good-bye.”
I kissed his cheek and laid my head on his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry, Pierce.”
He swallowed audibly. “Me too. She had stomach cancer. Stage four when they caught it. She did one round of chemo, and it didn’t do a thing. The doctor said any further treatment wouldn’t bide her any time. She was gone two months later.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
Pierce gave a hollow smile. “I’ve been told I should be grateful we’d connected and had good times together. I am. And I thought I’d worked through the worst of the grief until Jasper showed up with the cousin story.”
“That was Enid,” I reminded him gently.
“I know. But now I’m in that ugly place all over again, wondering why she didn’t talk to me. Was she ashamed of me because I’m bi or of him because he was gay? The mom I grew up with didn’t like those words. Yet supposedly, somewhere in that house, there are photos of me she sent her queer cousin and his husband.” He hooked his thumb behind him, then threw his hands in the air. “Go figure. And yeah, I’m a little pissed that Jasper didn’t lead with that info. Why is everything a fucking secret?”
I was wary of playing devil’s advocate, but I had to.
“’Cause they came from a different time, honey. I’m not excusing terrible communication skills, but I think she was trying. Maybe she didn’t know how to say the words, but…she showed up, right? And she stayed. Maybe you’re overthinking the rest because you don’t trust that there might be a silver lining. It’s okay to believe she loved you.”
He laced our fingers and kissed my hand. “Maybe.”
“I think I’m on to something. I’ve spent the last two years feeling pretty low and unlovable, which I know is shocking. But I lost two people I loved in a matter of weeks, and I couldn’t make sense of it. Both losses cut me to the core and made me question everything about myself. Am I good enough, smart enough? Will I ever be happy again? I wallowed in the blues until one day I got angry. Fuck Tony, fuck the Grim Reaper, fuck it all. My life might not be on the track I wanted to travel, but I refuse to believe I’m not worthy of more. I refuse to be unhappy.”
“You won’t be, baby.”
“Neither will you. Take ownership of the things you can control and let the rest go. Fuck the studio, fuck your brother, fuck the public. You’re allowed to be happy too, Pierce.You. Not the character you play…you. And right this very second, you’re in a beautiful private place with a very hot guy—that’s me, in case you were wondering—who brought three days’ worth of food and a ton of lube. If you ask me, it’s very fucking good to be Pierce Allen right now.”
His eyes crinkled in amusement. “Sounds like I’m a lucky guy.”
“Very lucky,” I assured him, nipping his jaw. “We’re going to spend most of this weekend naked…in front of the fireplace, in the kitchen, in bed. We’re going to play games, drink a lot of wine, and have a lot of sex. We’re not going to talk about Baxter or the studio or family or think about unpleasant things. Let’s just…be happy in the moment. Can you do that?”
He nuzzled my neck. “Yeah, I can do that.”