Page 39 of Troy
Corrigan moving in with us should have felt strange. After not seeing his brother for more than ten years, and having survived such a horrific injury out in Afghanistan, I expected him to guard his emotions. But I have been surprised at his laidback, easy going nature. My injuries and time in hospital gave the two brothers not only time to talk privately; it gave them a reason to join forces.
I thought I would feel jealous of the time they spend together, but it’s not like that, not one bit. Sitting on Raff’s knee, they tell stories of the paths their lives traveled down. Some bittersweet, some brutal and hard, but many are filled with laughter and jokes. I learn so much more about my man than I ever would have been able to find out by myself, and for that I thank the new member of my family.
“Get the door, someone, it will be the pizza guy.” Raff shouts from the kitchen. Looking over, Corrie plays his ace and taps his thigh. Shit, he’s taken off his prosthetic. Guess it will be me, then. “You lazy fucker.” I growl, making him roar with laughter.
Tonight, we chill out; it has been a long week, full of meetings for Raff and myself, while Corrigan has been training with Ben and enrolled to train as a physical therapist. After seeing the setup here, he found something to focus on and work towards, but he is going to subsidize his income by modelling for us. So, it’s a pizza and beer night, with a trashy movie thrown in.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask as I open the door but in front of me is six-and-a-half-foot of gorgeous, muscled man. Unfortunately, a very straight and very married, gorgeous man. “Shit, Mason! What are you doing here?” Then my mind clicks: Ferdie Deschamps! “What’s happened?”
“Can I come in, Troy?” Mason smiles and doesn’t appear too worried, which relaxes me a fraction.
“Shit! Yes, sorry, Mason. C’mon in.” I step aside and open the door further, Raff’s footsteps echoing down the hall. Joining us, his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against his chest.
Then, after dropping a kiss on my crown, he looks up at Mason, “I don’t think this is a social call, is it?”
“No, sorry. Not that it’s not great to see you again, but a date has been announced for your father’s trial.” Mason directs his gaze at Raff and gives a small smile.
“Okay, you’d better come through, Corrie is here, too. He lives with us now.” Raff steps us away and welcomes Mason through.
Mason, my attorney for many years, has become a good friend, but his visit tonight does nothing but fill me with worry and fear. I don’t want to know any of this, I don’t want to go to court and give testimony.
Raff knows how much I dread this and tugs me down on the loveseat facing the sofa Mason settles down on. Keeping his arm around my waist, he tucks me against the side of his body, as if he is shielding me. Corrigan sits motionless on the opposite side of the sofa, all joking and laughter gone from him. Before Mason begins, the doorbell chimes again, the delivery guy. Unwrapping myself from Raff’s embrace, I stand up and head out to collect our now unwanted dinner.
Placing the boxes on the coffee table, I turn to Mason, “Can I get you anything to drink? I know I could do with a beer right now.”
Smiling, he nods and accepts my offer. Moments later, I return with four bottles and notice they relax in their seats and chat quietly. After passing ’round the beers, I sit back down next to Raff.
“What’s going on then?” Raff peeks up from the pizza box but dives in, snatching a piece before Corrigan.
“It’s set for the last week of the month and they are expecting it to be over quickly. We have a solid case: we have eye witness statements of Troy being pushed into the car as well as the CCTV footage of Deschamps approaching him in the coffee shop and him leading him out.” Mason pauses and takes a pull from his beer, then eyes the pizza.
“Help yourself, dude.” Corrigan offers and snags another slice for himself.
“So, what’s the plan?” Raff asks, mouth full of macerated pizza, making me sigh. He knows why and looks down, winking.
“My plan is to coach you on your answers, not just to my questions but to the defense attorney’s, too. He’s been Deschamps’ legal advisor for many years, and has had success every time. He is as dirty as his client and nearly as mean but he’s not your problem; he’s mine and I’ve got plenty on Deschamps to leave him in the dirt.” Mason regards me and frowns. “What’s up, Troy? Not eating?”
I shake my head, unable to speak. I don’t understand how they can discuss something that has me sick to my stomach so calmly. I simply want it to go away and I know, if I voice my thoughts, I will be shot down. They will never let me walk away from this, I will be pressured into testifying.
“It will be okay, Troy, I promise. I’ve got my brother sitting in with me and you know what Austin is like, he will never back down. We’ve never lost a case, Troy, and we will not be losing this one.”
I nod, still not replying, but I notice Corrigan’s hand freeze as he lifts his slice to his mouth, the color drained from his face. I wonder what that’s about. Raff pulls me against his body again but I’m not comfortable and move away, giving him a weak smile when his eyes question me.
The conversation carries on; Mason lays out the plans for the prosecution and both Raff and his brother have a lot of information on their father that Mason can use. I stand up unnoticed by the three men and step out to the back yard.
It’s dark but still warm and I saunter down the path to the end where I lean up against the wall taking in the dark night sky. Stars shine brightly, each telling their own story but never the ending; we all know them. The ending is nothing more than empty spaces where they used to be. Our own lives are no different.
Franco comes to mind when I wonder what he would want me to do, would he fight for me? Allow me to stay in the shadows? I think he would; I spent my life with him in obscurity. Never admitting our relationship to anyone but our close friends, he would protect me from all of this, make it disappear. Usually, at the hands of Mason Reynolds. That man knows more about Franco’s background than I and never let him down. So, why do I feel he may let me down?
My relationship with Rafferty is the opposite: we are open about our love, we agreed never to hide what we have. The papers had a field day with the news of my attack and who Rafferty used to be. They lied when they couldn’t find the truth—especially about Raff and Corrigan—each new edition a more embellished version of our lives. The frenzy will build again; the press will be stationed at the end of the drive, clamoring for every appearance or word uttered. We need bodyguards as death threats will pick up again when the homophobic, gay-bashing churches get involved, damning us all to hell.
I really don’t think I can bear it, I want a quiet life with the man I love, and my family close to me. Isn’t that what everyone else has? My head clunks back against the wall as my eyes close to shut out the visions of what awaits me. My parents’ images dance in my mind. Two people I haven’t thought about in years, what will they make of all of this? Will they still hate me? Or will they pity me and condemn the suffering I went through? Will they think I got what I deserved? Fuck! Suddenly, their opinion of me matters! Shit! Shit! Shit!
A car engine rumbles to life, the sound slowly dying down; Mason must have left. Raff will be out here to claim me again; he knows where I am. Tonight, though, I don’t want him; tonight, I want to be left alone.
“Where’s Troy?” Corrigan looks at me, a crease forming on his brow.
“He left about thirty minutes ago,” Mason gapes at me in surprise. “Didn’t you notice?”