Love Starved (25 page)

He managed not to stumble over the word
escort
, but now that it was out, spelled out clearly, he held his breath over the momentary silence, waiting for a reaction. His mom looked taken aback. His dad frowned.

“You’re saying it like you’re ashamed of him,” his dad said calmly. “But from what I’ve seen of you two together, I don’t believe you are. After all, you’re not the actor in this family.”

“I’m
not
ashamed of Aiden,” Micah exclaimed indignantly. “I just… aren’t you going to judge me for hiring him in the first place?”

His dad nodded. “It’s… unexpected,” he said, and Micah’s heart dropped to his stomach. “But you’re an adult, son. You make your own decisions and we have to believe that you’re capable of making reasonable ones. If you felt you needed to pay someone to pretend he’s close to you in one way or another, then we have to try to accept that you had your reasons, even if we don’t understand them. Maybe we could talk about it when you come home for Christmas?”

Micah nodded quickly, feeling like a chastised little boy. “Yeah,” he croaked, his throat dry with nerves. “Okay.”

“I am really disappointed you’ve been lying to us for so long, though,” Micah’s mom said. She still looked a little shocked. “All those months, every time you talked to me about Angel…” She shook her head. “I know you had trouble with confrontations when you were young, but I thought you would have outgrown it by now.”

Micah nodded, ashamed. “I’m working on it.” He glanced at the time. “Actually, I have to go work on it right now. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” his dad said. “We love you, you know that, right? We’ll get over this. And it doesn’t change the fact that you and your friends—
all
of your friends—are always welcome here.”

His mom nodded, her face softening.

Micah managed a tremulous smile. “Thanks. I love you, too. I’ll talk to you soon,” he said before disconnecting, and then sat still for a moment, trying to get his pounding heart to slow down a little before the next challenge.

He wasn’t looking forward to the conversation that was sure to happen the next time he saw his parents, but it was better than carrying the lie around. And he could still bring Aiden home with him one day.

Right. He would be lucky if Aiden talked to him again anytime soon. But he would worry about that later. Now, he had more pressing matters to think about.

By the time Richard Preston
left his company building, it was nearly seven, and his car was the last one in the parking lot beside Micah’s. He rushed out the door looking harried and busy, tapping something on his phone, and it wasn’t until he was ten feet from his car that he noticed Micah leaning against it.

Micah was bored.

He’d arrived just a few minutes past five, determined not to miss Richard in case he finished the meeting early, and for the first hour, he’d sat on the bench opposite the entrance, pretending to be engrossed in the report he’d brought with him. He’d tried to look cool and collected while actually fighting nausea and rehearsing what he would tell Richard when he finally walked out. Every way the plan could go wrong had run through his head, hyping up his pulse: What if Richard wasn’t alone when he left the building? What if he called for building security, or resorted to physical force himself?

By six, nearly everyone had left, and Micah had repeated his speech to himself so many times it had started to sound ridiculous—very superhero-like and almost pathetic. Fifteen minutes later, he’d started cursing himself for not finding time to eat anything since his early breakfast. Had it really been this morning? It seemed as though a week had passed. He could have used something to read, too. Other than the report, that is—he knew that by heart.

His nerves somehow lost in the monotony of waiting, he welcomed Richard’s arrival with relief. Richard stopped dead when he saw him. He scouted the empty parking lot before forcing his pudgy face into an annoyed expression. Then he took the last few steps toward Micah.

“Hello,” Micah said cheerfully. “Fancy meeting you here. Had a good day?”

Now that the moment had come, he felt a little lightheaded, as if drunk. He grinned at the fuming man in his charcoal suit that was clearly a size too small.

“What are you doing here?” Richard hissed, stepping too close in a noxious cloud of expensive cologne. “Did you come to beg me not to tell on you? Or did you want to see who would be fucking your darling little friend’s tight ass tomorrow? And that’s not the only thing I’ll be doing to him, mind you. Do you want me to tell you what else I have planned?”

Micah shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought we might talk like adults maybe. Unless acting like a gloating five-year-old is your usual mode of communication, but then I don’t know how anyone could have let you manage a company for six years.”

Richard smirked and took half a step back. “Adults, huh? Okay, let’s see how you can manage that, kid. What do you want?”

Micah took the report from the black folder he’d been holding under his arm and passed it to the man. It was in his best professional style—crisp, printed in color on good quality paper, with charts and figures, all dates and quotes double-checked and bolded when appropriate, following a logical sequence of facts that extended over eleven pages and ended with a summary and suggested solutions. Underneath, he’d listed his sources—all of them absolutely legal: facts he’d dug out earlier confirmed through available documents and as many quotes from employees as he managed to get today. This company could really benefit from his seminars. The amount of classified information they gave out freely when politely asked was staggering.

Richard took the file and looked through it, his face growing redder the further he scanned. It was impressive, really, how deep the color became. Of course, Micah should expect nothing less, since the document in Richard’s hand listed his abuses of power, his manipulations and his diversions from the owner’s—his own father-in-law’s—cherished company policy of “staying local and serving the community and the employees first and foremost.” Over the six years since the old man stepped back and let Richard become the head manager, a lot had changed—none of it making it into the annual reports.

“What is this?” Richard’s voice was strained.

“Oh, I don’t know. A nail to your career’s coffin? Just think what your beloved father-in-law would do if he read this. Or your wife. Or, oooh, the press! Scandal at such a successful local company? I’m sure they would have a field day if a juicy bit like this were to fall into their laps.”

“It’s a piece of crap. Facts twisted to sound like I did something wrong. No one in their right mind would believe it.”

Micah hummed. “Well, completely neglecting the charity the company owner founded, and reducing most of the lower-level employees’ benefits only to raise management compensation looks pretty transparent to me. As does falsifying records to hide that in the reports. Shall I say more? Because there is more, as you obviously know. It’s all summarized on page nine, if you need a reminder.”

“Bullshit.” Richard pushed the papers back at him. “How dare you come here and threaten me with some loosely spun lies? I have an important event to get to.” He made a show of looking at his watch, but his rapid breathing betrayed fear.

“Ah yes.” Micah smiled. “Your wife’s fortieth birthday, isn’t it? All of your family will be there, I’m sure. What a delightful time to deliver this little piece of bullshit, as you call it, right to their hands. See if everyone else dismisses it, too.” He paused as if pondering. “Your father-in-law doesn’t like you very much, does he?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Richard growled, his hands clenching into fists.

“Ah, but I already did. It’s all set to be delivered in—what time is it?—in less than an hour. I hope it doesn’t spoil your appetite before you can eat your dinner. That restaurant is truly excellent.”

His pulse was racing now, but it wasn’t fear—he felt almost elated.

“You’re lying, you little scumbag,” Richard growled.

“Try me,” Micah said calmly. He waited, enjoying Richard’s conflicted face way too much. “Or you could try to stop it. Of course, you’d be cutting it awfully close now, even if I told you how—” He dropped his voice, musing.

“Of course I’ll stop it. No deliveries will be made during a private family celebration, I’ll make sure of it.” Richard seemed to have a little of his confidence back.

“What makes you think it’s to be delivered by hand? Maybe sealed envelopes are waiting at the restaurant already? Maybe everyone will receive an email? Or a link to a webpage created just for this reason? Or both? What if there are several ways of delivery set up so that everyone can get to the goodies, no matter what? You’ll never stop them all. I’m a data specialist. I know my way around delivering information, Richard.”

“Okay, fuck you, what do you want?”

“Simple. I just want you to leave Aiden and me in peace. Just like that. Forget about us. Don’t call, don’t stalk, don’t even try to get near us. Don’t talk or write about us to anyone. Delete any photos you have; forget addresses and phone numbers. If you need another boy to fuck behind your wife’s back, good luck. But you’ve hurt him enough.”

“You little shit. I should just tell your parents what you’re doing, let them beat the disrespect toward your elders out of you.”

“Actually, my parents taught me that respect is something that has to be earned. And go ahead. They know all about Aiden. And before you waste your breath threatening to tell my customers—please. That would be free advertising, you know. May I remind you that the clock is ticking?”

Richard glared at him, grinding his teeth, and Micah smiled sweetly.

“I know, you want to squash me for daring to stand up to you. But think about it: Which of us has farther to fall?” He paused for effect, then added, “I don’t care about you being a cheating bastard or a shit manager. Those are not my problems. I just want you to fuck off.”

He could see the change: a furious man turning into a businessman negotiator.

“What if I say no?”

“Then the report will be distributed as planned: to everyone in your company, including your father-in-law, to your whole family, your church newsletter, local media, the district attorney… everyone who may be remotely interested in your machinations. I can only guess what the fallout would be.” Micah smiled innocently.

“What if I agree and then change my mind?”

Micah shrugged. “This report doesn’t expire. And I can always offer my services to Mr. Hamilton myself, at a discount price. Plus, you know, the fact that you’ve been cheating on your wife not only with a girl half her age, but also with a male escort… Isn’t her family kind of homophobic?”

“You have no proof.”

“You think not?”

He let the question hang in the air. For a moment, he saw Richard struggle—and then give up, all the fight turned to impotent anger.

“Fine,” Richard growled. “Whatever. Take that precious slut of yours and do what you want with him. Do you think I care? He was fun to play with, but he’s not worth the hassle.” Then his tone changed as he looked right into Micah’s eyes. “I will miss him, though. He cried so prettily, and have you ever heard him scream? Such a beautiful sound. You should try to make him recreate that for you some time.”

Rage flared up in Micah’s chest, hot and sudden. “That’s enough. Say you’ll leave us alone from now on.”

“I will leave you alone.” Richard said through clenched teeth.

“I’ll need you to sign on it.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

But he did sign the paper Micah produced from his folder—not that it had any legal bearing, but that didn’t matter. This was for Aiden’s peace of mind more than anything else.

“So if I leave you and the little whore alone, you’re not going to use anything you have on me, ever?” Richard asked, still holding onto the document.

“If you keep your word, I won’t.”

“Will I get it in writing?”

“No, you’ll have to trust my word.” Micah took the paper from him and put it back in the folder, and then turned and started walking away.

“Wait a second, and the delivery?” Richard called out to his back.

“Oh, right. If I make it home by eight, I’ll cancel it,” Micah said, opening the door to his car and getting in. He started the engine, and then opened the window. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep the copies in
very
safe places, just in case. Unless I fail to check in regularly for some reason, they won’t go out. And neither will the record of our little chat.” He patted the breast pocket of his jacket where the little microphone stuck out like a button. “Have a good evening.”

He drove away, leaving Richard in the parking lot, yelling curses after him.

The shaking set in as
soon as Micah was out of Richard’s sight. He managed to put a couple more streets between them before he had to pull over, gasping for breath, feeling too dizzy to drive. It all hit him at once—the emotions, the stress, the sugar drop from forgetting to eat, all the frantic chaos of the day finally caught up with him.

His first instinct was to call Aiden, but he hesitated with the phone in his hand as Aiden’s parting words resonated. Slowly, Micah put down the phone and just sat and breathed, waiting for the weakness to subside. When his fingers were no longer trembling so badly, he sent a message.

It’s over. He won’t be bothering you anymore. Don’t contact him.

If he hoped for a quick response, he was disappointed. The reply didn’t come until late that evening, a short
Are you sure?

Positive,
he answered, and then,
I have it in writing.

Are you okay?
Aiden asked.

I’m safe, too.

Aiden took a few minutes to reply this time.
You risked your safety and your reputation for me.

Micah frowned and answered.
I knew what I was doing. And you are worth a little risk.

Thank you,
came a reply, and before Micah could call him, because they should just talk for goodness sake, another one popped up.
But I meant what I said. I need to be away from you, Micah. Please don’t call me.

The momentary relief of being through with Richard turned into cold disbelief.

Wait, what? Why?

Aiden, talk to me, please.

What did I do wrong?

There was no answer to any of his texts, though. He tried to call, despite Aiden’s request, but only got voicemail.

What followed was a sleepless night like a bridge between denial and acceptance. A night spent at first at the piano, then in front of his computer with all of their Grand Marais pictures spread over all three screens, and finally, when the cold sunrise started painting the clouds fiery orange, on the balcony with the first steaming cup of coffee and more gratitude for what he’d had than regret for what could have been.

I’m here if you ever decide you do want a friend, after all,
Micah wrote before leaving for work an hour later and, very deliberately, left his phone at home. By the time he came back that night, among other messages that had gathered all day, there was a short text from Aiden.

Ok.

That was all. That night, Micah put the declaration Richard had signed into an envelope, added a thumb drive with the recording of their conversation, a copy of the report and a note saying “Not sure if you want to listen to this, but if you do, here it is,” and drove to Aiden’s place. The lights were on, and he could clearly imagine Aiden curled up on his old green couch with a book or another of the science shows he was addicted to, so close that Micah’s heart clenched with longing. But he just slid the envelope into Aiden’s mailbox and went home.

And then he waited.

Or, not really—waiting implies putting everything else aside, suspending one’s life until the wait is over. And Micah was finished with not living. Time passed; days turned into weeks, and he worked hard, as he always did, but he also did things he enjoyed just because he enjoyed them. He went to the movies and the theater alone; went dancing with Daphne twice; spent a whole weekend with Claudia when Brad was away, getting silly and indulgent, and then drunk in the ridiculous way that is only possible with someone you’ve known and loved most of your life.

Almost every day something made him think of Aiden—wonder where he was, what he was doing, how he felt. Sometimes, Micah texted him, just because he wanted to share a thought or a moment with his best friend, even if said best friend didn’t reply and may in fact not want to be his best friend anymore. It didn’t matter. Technically, Aiden never said Micah shouldn’t contact him—just that he shouldn’t call. He never replied to tell him to stop texting, either. So Micah sent his thoughts on that one-sided trip, never expecting anything, just wanting to share.

I saw a man that looked like you from behind and my heart skipped a beat. But it wasn’t you, of course, and now my heart feels out of rhythm, that one beat still missing.

Daphne keeps asking about you and sometimes I want to strangle her. I miss you bad enough without her reminding me.

The snow is insane tonight, don’t you think? I’m standing on the roof of my building looking up into the sky and it’s like thousands and thousands of stars falling. I kind of want to lie down and stare for hours, but it’s not very clean here. Oh well, another day, somewhere else.

My family asks if you’re going to come home with me for Christmas. I never had a chance to tell you, but they know the truth about you and us, now. They still want you there.

Christmas was tough. Micah went
home to his parents and the house seemed emptier than it should be, with one person very noticeably missing, as if he was supposed to be here, but got lost on the way. Aiden didn’t reply to his “Merry Christmas” text, which made it that much harder to talk about him when Micah’s parents finally asked for the whole story. At least Claudia knew better than to touch the topic anymore—she’d done her sisterly share of teasing when he first told her the whole truth.

But Christmas passed, and then it was easier, back in the city, with his work and his distractions.

For New Year’s Eve, Daphne got VIP tickets for the famous Crystal Ball. Micah had his doubts—he would be going stag, feeling like an add-on to Daphne and Danny, and the whole affair promised to be huge, crowded and everything Micah generally disliked. Still, the alternative was spending the night at home in front of the TV, and that had too much potential for reminiscing and drunken melancholy. So he went—and ended up having a lot of fun. There was plenty of dancing, flirting and laughter, and while none of it was going anywhere—he still had no desire to look for anything romantic, not while his heart was stubbornly stuck on Aiden—it was nice to enjoy himself and know that maybe one day, he’d be ready.

He texted Aiden at midnight, just a simple
I miss you. Have a happy New Year, wherever you are.

All in all, last year had been good to him, Micah decided over coffee the next morning. The book had been a big success, two new branches of his company were all set to open in January, his finances were soaring. And then there’d been Aiden… Even if they never spoke again, Micah was grateful for the six months they’d had together. Without being his boyfriend, Aiden had taught him more about love and relationships than all his time with Brian had. Micah looked differently at love now. He no longer expected idealized romantic clichés, because he knew what the real connection and sizzling chemistry felt like. And he was at peace. Yes, he missed Aiden like crazy, but if being away from Micah was better for him, then so be it.

Now it was a new year, a clean slate, and who knew what it would bring? Micah knew one thing: He would use it well, take opportunities, accept risks. Live. That was his theme for the next 365 days.