Chapter Seven
RHOADES
To my annoyance, Austin wouldn’t allow my driver to take him home, insisting he be dropped off at the nearest subway station.
“If we’re going to work together, then you’d better get used to me. I do as I please and don’t need to be taken care of.” He slouched against the car door and pulled out his phone.
“It’s not a matter of taking care of you. It’s safety and common courtesy. Why make it harder on yourself?”
I studied Austin’s face, not liking the dark circles beneath his eyes, now visible without the stage makeup. He bit his lower lip as he scrolled through his messages.
“Trouble?”
“I don’t—” Perhaps realizing he was about to say something too personal, he pressed his lips together and shook his head, but the grip on his phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. If I had to lay bets, I’d guess it was about Frankie and his ex.
The car slid to the curb and stopped. We’d arrived at the Chambers Street train station, and once again, I pleaded my case. “What’s the harm in me taking you back home? It’s not like I’m paying by the mile for the car, if that’s what has you concerned.”
Austin put his hand on the door handle, and I reached across him to try and hold him for a moment so we could continue speaking.
“Don’t,” he gritted out and wrenched open the door. It slammed shut after him, and he stood on the pavement, head drooping, hands jammed into his pockets.
“Wait here,” I spoke into the partition to my driver, Felix, then undid my seat belt and exited the car in time to see Austin walking toward the subway entrance.
“Austin, please wait,” I called out to him. He didn’t stop, and I found myself chasing after him down the stairs. A train rumbled in on the opposite, uptown track, and Austin cursed as he dropped his wallet. I bent down to retrieve it but held on to it.
“Please. Talk to me.”
“Give me my wallet back.” His voice shook.
“Austin—”
“What? I told you I’m not interested in anything physical. I told you I didn’t want you to take me home. If you can’t respect what I’m asking, then I need to rethink this whole thing.” Lips tight, eyes flashing, he glared up at me.
He might look like a young, frivolous man standing before me in furry boots and a bright purple hoodie, but I saw the depths in his eyes. Someone or something had hurt this man, very badly.
“If I’ve misjudged you, I’m sorry. Really. Here.” I handed him back his wallet, and our fingers brushed, but I didn’t try and hold his hand. Austin might flaunt his body for a living, but his heart remained his own.
“Thanks.” He pulled out his MetroCard and shoved the wallet in his coat pocket. “I’m going to take the train and go home and think about what you offered.”
“You’d be silly to turn me down.” And the moment the words left my lips, I regretted them and wished I could pull them back. A train screeched into the station, and I could see the people standing shoulder to shoulder. It had been years since I’d been on the subway, but to keep talking to Austin, I’d bear it.
“I’ve been called stupid before. And worse. See ya.” Without giving me a chance to take a breath, he swiped through the turnstile and darted past the open subway car doors, melting into the crowd.
“Well, that was a royal fuck-up. Good one, Rhoades,” I muttered as I trudged up the stairs, not even caring that people gave me a wide berth. They probably thought I was another crazy New Yorker talking to himself. And with the way Austin had mixed up my insides, they might be right.
Felix started the car as I approached. The heated leather seats warmed my legs, and I leaned back with a weary sigh.
“Home, Rhoades?”
“Yes. I’ve had enough for one night.” My watch showed close to three, and I’d been up since seven the day before. I had meetings scheduled and buildings to visit, and yet none of it mattered if I couldn’t get Austin to agree to my offer.
The West Side Highway stretched out before us, for once relatively free of cars, and Felix, knowing me as well as he did, allowed me my silence until we reached the Upper West Side and he exited onto Riverside Drive.
“Should I stop for some coffee? It might make you feel better.”
After Lance’s death, in order to prevent me from drowning in grief, several nights a week Edgar would force me from the brownstone and have Felix drive me around the city. We’d stop for coffee, and I’d listen to him talk about his native Guyana, how he missed his parents and how they’d never seen his children, their only grandchildren. The following Christmas, after securing them visas, I brought them over, and now they worked for me and lived near Felix in Long Island.
“Might as well. I’m not tired anyway.” I placed our order on my phone, wondering if Austin had made it home safely. I cursed myself that I hadn’t asked for his number earlier, expecting to have the time with him in the car while driving him home. I could find out easily enough, but I knew that would send him running. Not that he needed an excuse. The few times we were together, he gave every indication he had one foot out the door.
Everything rested in his hands and I wasn’t pleased, but seeing as I lost all semblance of control whenever he was in my presence, I had no one but myself to blame.
Felix pulled up in front of the Starbucks on 79th and Amsterdam, and I waited while he ran in and picked up our coffees, returning to the car in less than three minutes. We sat in the spot, drinking in companionable silence. I enjoyed Felix’s company for that reason. He understood my need for space.
“Tell me about him.”
Perhaps I was too quick.… “Who?”
That got Felix to snort and shake his head. “I know you’re playing with me now.”
The coffee, which only moments before had tasted hot and heavenly, now sat bitter on my tongue. I set the cup down. “It doesn’t matter. I’m being foolish.”
“There’s nothing foolish about wanting to find someone again. It’s been a long time.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Okay. Let’s pretend you’re telling me the truth. Who is this person who, despite all your protests that you’ve no personal interest in, night after night you go see dance at your brother’s club? And now you’ve brought him inside your brand-new building that isn’t even open to the public yet?”
“His name is Austin.” His name on my lips left me breathless.
“That tells me nothing. Why him? You’ve met people from all over the world—leaders of businesses, politicians.” His dark eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Any one of them would have been more than willing to be with you.”
“Austin runs from me. You might be surprised to know he comes from wealth. His father is a senior partner at one of the oldest law firms in the city with branches all over the world. They deal in real estate. Yet Austin gave it all up.”
“Let me guess. Mommy and Daddy didn’t like him being a gay dancer? Didn’t fit the mold?”
I didn’t know Austin’s life story, nor did James when I questioned him, and my online search pulled up only sketchy details. All I knew was that his parents had divorced when he was very young, and his mother died not too many years afterward, sending him back to live with his father.
“I don’t know. We haven’t shared our personal history.”
“Perhaps you need to.”
The darkness of the back seat provided a good cover to hide, and I set my now unwanted coffee in the cup holder. “Can we go home, please?”
“Whatever you wish.” Saying nothing further, he started up the car and we were off, traveling on Amsterdam until he came to 82nd Street and my brownstone. He pulled up in front, and I took my cup and opened the door.
“Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I mean tonight.” When I’d be back at the club again. I didn’t need to say it. Felix knew.
“Good night. Try and get some sleep.”
Without answering, I slammed the door shut and took the stairs two at a time. Edgar had most likely given up on me and gone to bed, and from the settled quiet inside when I unlocked the door, I was proved correct. I didn’t bother taking off my coat to hang in the hall closet and kept it on when I went upstairs to my bedroom, then tossed it over one of the club chairs by the fireplace. Flames licked at the logs behind the grate, and I stared at them, hopeful I’d find sleep.
Edgar had turned down my bed, and after undressing and brushing my teeth, I lay down on the stark white sheets and stared at the ceiling. That Austin had suffered some form of abuse in the past was obvious to me. Whether it was at home or at the hands of a lover, I didn’t yet know.
And if that person was lucky, I would never find out.
Five hours later found me at my desk, sipping my second cup of coffee, reviewing the paperwork for the next redevelopment project. I’d slept surprisingly well, and I attributed that to my dreams of a very naked Austin sucking my cock while finger-fucking me. I awoke in mid-orgasm and rode out the rest of that scenario until I lay boneless and sated.
No one would guess how this man had me so tied up in knots, every time a text pinged my phone, I’d jump. But it couldn’t be Austin as I hadn’t given him my phone number. He’d bolted too quickly. After the third time in as many minutes, I turned off the ringer and tossed the phone into the top drawer.
“Rhoades?” Clare, my personal assistant, poked her head into my office. “Malcolm McHabe here to see you.”
“Send him in, please.”
Malcolm and I had grown up together, went to boarding school together, and had been each other’s first lovers. But where Malcolm spent the years after university traveling, and from all the stories I’d heard, fucking his way through Europe and Asia, I’d returned home to a dying father, a resentful half brother I barely knew, and a family business in transition. Still, Malcolm and I remained close, and when Lance died, he came to the funeral and stayed with me, taking care of whatever needed to be done.
“Rodeo.” He ignored my glare at his stupid childhood nickname for me and gave me a hug. “How are you?” he asked and gave me a squeeze. “Really.”
“I’m fine.”
Dropping down into his seat, Malcolm stretched out his long legs, giving me a sweeping assessment from beneath ridiculously long lashes. Wild and beautiful with black hair and golden-brown eyes—since he was a child, Malcolm used his beauty to get what and whomever he wanted. He never met a man or woman he didn’t want to sleep with, and did.
“Liar. You look like shit.”
“Thanks. With a friend like you…” I let the rest of the sentence trail off, giving Malcolm a grin he didn’t return.
“Sit.” He pointed to the chair behind my desk.
“What?” I deliberately came around to the front of my desk and took off my suit jacket to hang up. “Tell me what’s been going on with you. I haven’t seen you in over a year.”
“Why do you always have to make things difficult?” Surprisingly strong, he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me down to the chair next to him. “Now.” His grip relaxed, and his eyes grew soft. “Talk to me.” His hand rested on my thigh, but the fire of our physical relationship had burned to ashes years ago. We were much better off as friends.
“That’s just it. There’s nothing to tell. I get up, come here, make deals and more money. Go home and sleep. Wake up. Rinse and repeat. Day after day.”
“You’re still not seeing anyone?” There was no sexual innuendo in his hand stroking my thigh. He was my confidant, closer to me than my own blood, my half brother, James.
A vision of a half-naked Austin kissing me while I stroked the soft skin of his stomach flooded me with warmth. And because I could never hide anything from Malcolm, his grip on my thigh tightened.
“Tell me about him.”
Before my body betrayed me even further, I pulled my leg away. “There’s no one.”
“For four years you’ve been torturing yourself, hiding away, wasting your life.”
“I’m not wasting my life,” I said, my blood heating with my anger. “I’ve developed buildings and shopping centers and made millions of dollars.”
“A full bank account can’t provide for an empty soul.”
“Is that one of your famous Irish sayings?” My feeble attempt at humor was met by Malcolm’s sorrowful gaze.
“I’m not laughing. Lance wouldn’t have expected you to punish yourself and be alone for the rest of your life. People fuck up.”
“Some people do. Not me.”
“Why? Do you think you’re better than everyone else?”
“Of course not. But I always make sure to have my plans all mapped out. I know how it will end before I start.”
“Life has a funny way of throwing curve balls. Don’t you allow for any leeway? A little fun? Or do you think living life under a rigid set of rules you set for yourself is going to make up for one mistake, one misstep?”
We’d been through this, ad nauseam, and he still refused to understand.
“I don’t need fun. I need to get my work done.”
“You know what they say: all work and no play makes Rodeo a dull boy.” A twinkle lit his eyes, complementing his wicked smile. He’d been getting away with murder his whole life with a simple pout or flutter of eyelashes. At one point he’d boasted of sleeping with members of the royal family, but I didn’t push him on it. I think I was more afraid to find out who than anything.
“I’m busy, Mal. What do you really want?”
“Dinner tonight? Then maybe a club or two? I’m not in town for long. It’s too cold here. I’m thinking of heading to Monte Carlo.” He stood and zipped up his jacket. “A good friend has a boat and asked me to come.”
“Is that shorthand for a rich fuck-buddy has a huge yacht you’re going to lounge on for the rest of the winter until it’s warm enough to come home?”
Malcolm broke out in a hearty laugh and hugged me tight. “You’ll never stop calling me on my shit, will you?”
I held on to him tight. “Not for a second.”
“I’ll stop by the brownstone around nine? Or how about dinner? Are you free? Does Edgar still make that amazing chocolate soufflé?” He licked his lips.
No need to check my calendar. I had nobody to see and nothing planned.
“Come around six, and I’ll make sure he has it for you.” Eyeing his trim, rangy body, I shook my head in disgust. “I don’t know how you eat that stuff and stay so thin. I have to work out every day.”
Malcolm squeezed my ass. “Still as juicy as I remember, though. You’re all muscle while I’m naturally thinner. Long and lean, baby. I’ve never had any complaints. See you tonight.” He flashed me another grin and left. The office seemed curiously empty without him, as if Mal had sucked all the air out and taken it with him. All that frenetic energy might be attractive to some, but for me, I grew tired of trying to keep up. Maybe James was right, and I was old. I hadn’t felt young in a very long time.
Thoughts like those didn’t get buildings built or deals made, so I buried myself in my next project—an entire block of row houses we had redeveloped and were getting ready to bring to market. I hit the intercom button.
“Clare, can you get me Peter Gotsopoulis on the phone? I need an update on the Sunset Park reno.”
“On it, Rhoades.”
Our architects and engineers had done a beautiful job with the rehab, and I’d already received inquiries from top brokers as to when it would be available for viewing.
My phone buzzed, and I hit the speaker.
“Peter on line one.”
“Thanks, Clare.” A click and then the voice of my favorite architect greeted me.
“Rhoades. I planned to call you this afternoon. The project is done. And if I do say so myself, which I will because I can—it’s a beauty. The best yet.”
“Peter, I think this is our sixth project together?”
“Seventh, but who’s counting.” He chuckled. “You call and I say yes.”
“Six, seven. Whatever the number, you say that after each job.”
“I do, don’t I?”
His overall cheerfulness roused me from my earlier odd restlessness.
“Yes. But from what I’m seeing in the video and pictures you sent, this time I may have to agree with you. You outdid yourself, especially keeping it in budget.”
“Enough to give me a place for free?”
“I like you, but not that much.”
His hearty laughter reverberated in my office.
“Okay. We’re ahead a week on completion, so you can start with getting the models ready for viewing. Do you have buyers scheduled yet?”
“Not yet, but once I put the word out, I know we’ll be inundated. This is the next hot area, and the buzz has already begun.”
Sunset Park, a traditionally Hispanic area, was bordered at one end by the Prospect Expressway near Greenwood Cemetery and extended all the way down to New York City’s third Chinatown. It boasted blocks of beautiful limestone townhomes built in the late nineteenth to early twentieth century, and we were fortunate to save most of the original details while providing the modern updates people wanted in their homes these days.
“You have that vision to see trends before almost anyone else. It’s why you’re so successful.”
“Thank you for the compliments, but that still doesn’t get you a free house.”
“Damn you, Rhoades.”
“Thanks again, Peter. To you and your guys. You always come through.”
“We appreciate the business. You’ll always be our number-one developer.”
“I’m going to come by after we hang up. Take some pictures and notes to prepare for brokers. Will you be there?”
“If you want, I’ll make sure to stay.”
“See you soon.”
He disconnected. Reenergized, I signed off on my next project: a six-story building in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. My developments were normally in high-end areas, like Chelsea, Tribeca, and Sutton Place, but I’d long wanted to expand out of Manhattan to Brooklyn, and with this rehab in Sunset Park, I finally took that step.
An hour later, I left my office on West 57th Street for Brooklyn. When we crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge, I wondered where Austin lived and why he left his luxurious life. My phone buzzed, and I saw it was James.
“What is it?”
“Hello, Mr. Sunshine. You’re always so pleasant to speak with.”
Ignoring his sarcasm, I switched the phone to my left hand and pulled out my tablet with my right to start making notes on my project.
“Okay. I’ll be nice. Good afternoon, James. What an absolute pleasure to speak with you. To what do I owe the honor of your call?”
Amusement danced in his words. “Actually that was far worse than your normal barking at me.” The timbre of his voice softened. “How did it go with Austin last night? What happened?”
That James called specifically to talk shocked me. We didn’t have that kind of relationship—or any relationship at all. We weren’t close; we’d never been given the chance to be. Resentful tolerance was as best as I could describe our uneasy coexistence, although after my father’s death, we’d let down our walls a bit. Plus, I did frequent his club over any other in the city.
“Do you really expect me to tell you? Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because no matter how much we wish we could deny it, we’re brothers. And each other’s only family. I’m the only one who knows both of you. And”—he paused, and I despised that my heart beat frantically while I waited to hear what else he had to say—“maybe at our age it’s time to talk about the past instead of beating it down with a shovel every time we see each other.”
If James thought he knew me from the nights I spent in his club, he was making a foolish mistake. He couldn’t, when I barely knew myself anymore.
“I don’t know why you think I have anything to say. Austin and I talked, and I showed him my latest project in Tribeca. Then he went home. End of story.”
“And yet I know you’re not telling me everything.”
One of the things I hated about James—and there were many—was that he had an uncanny ability to see past my bullshit.
Tired of James’s poking, I snapped. “Since when am I required to tell you everything about my personal life?”
“You’re right. No one said you’re required. But the point is you haven’t had a goddamn personal life. Four years have gone by, and you’ve come out of hiding, and it’s Austin who’s brought you there? Color me curious.”
For several years, James had been extending an olive branch, which I’d knocked aside at every turn. I know what Lance would’ve said. What he always did. That it wasn’t James’s fault how our lives intersected; he was as much a victim of my father’s infidelity as I was. That any family is better than none. But I didn’t know how to be that kind, forgiving person. He’d died along with Lance.
“I haven’t been hiding. I’ve always been right here. And now I have to say goodbye because I’m busy.”
Before I had a chance to click off, I heard James’s final words.
“I’ll see you tonight. I’m sure you have Austin’s schedule memorized.”
It gave me great satisfaction to shut my phone off without answering him. Damn bastard thought he knew me. I glanced down to see my hand shaking. I knew full well tonight would find me exactly where James predicted—at Man Up, waiting for Austin.