Outsider (18 page)

“You
three had better leave tonight,” Dare said, nodding to the trio on the sofa.
“I’ll tell Sam that Sed needs Trey’s support in preparation for his father’s
funeral and that it’s not appropriate for any of you to have to deal with the
added bullshit during this tragic time. The rest of us will head for home in
the morning and do the press conference on our own to appease Sam if he insists
on it. We’ll just refuse to answer any questions about Reagan.”

“Sam
is going to be pissed that Reagan slipped away in the night.” Steve grinned,
obviously not upset about pulling a fast one on their manager. “Logan’s going
to be sorry he missed this.”

“Max?”
Dare turned to the thus-far silent vocalist.

Max
shrugged. “Seems like a fine plan to me. There isn’t anything in the contract
that says our temporary band member has to be present at all required
functions.”

“Reagan?”
Dare asked for final approval.

“I
think there’s something like that in
my
contract,” Reagan said.

“Everyone’s
always worried about getting sued,” Steve said, shaking his head. “There are
worse things than being broke, you know.”

“Sam
won’t pull a dickhead move if we use Sed’s situation as an excuse,” Max said.
“Not after Logan got all that positive publicity for supporting Sed in his time
of need with that karaoke stunt. Sam won’t want to detract from that right
now.”

Steve
snorted. “You know that’s the only reason Sam didn’t flip out when Logan took
off with the jet to go retrieve his little tabloid rat.”

“Speaking
of dickhead moves . . . You don’t think it’s shitty to use
Sed as an excuse to get out of a press conference?” Trey asked. “He really
looked up to his dad. Phil meant the world to him.”

“We’ll
make it up to him,” Dare said. “Go get your things, Reagan. You’re going home tonight.”

The
tension drained out of her shoulders.
Thank you
was all she said.

Dare’s
gaze settled on Trey’s face. “You already packed?”

Trey
nodded. He’d thought he was leaving with Ethan earlier, so he was ready to go.

“Can
I talk to you in private before you go?” Dare lifted his eyebrows and held
Trey’s gaze for a long moment.

Starting
to feel uncomfortable by Dare’s intensity—which he rarely leveled in Trey’s
direction—Trey glanced at Reagan, who was climbing from the sofa, and Ethan,
who was assisting her. He wasn’t sure why Dare wanted to talk to him alone or
why he seemed so serious, but his lovers didn’t seem to think Dare’s request
was suspicious.

“Uh,
I guess so,” Trey said. He followed Dare out of his suite to the one next door,
careful to close doors silently so they didn’t alert Sam to their covert
mission.

When
they were shut securely inside the privacy of Dare’s suite, Dare turned and
squeezed Trey’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

“Me?
The tabloid didn’t say anything negative about me.”

“I’m
not talking about the tabloid. I’m talking about this fucked-up relationship
you’re involved in.”

Trey
sucked in a deep breath and gaped at his brother. Of all the people who knew
Trey, Dare was the one he expected to understand what he needed to be happy.

“Don’t
look at me like that,” Dare said.

“Like
what?” Trey said, turning away to hide his expression.

“Like
I’ve betrayed you.”

Dare
always could read him. Trey slid his hand into his pocket, searching for a
sucker, but found nothing but an empty wrapper.

“I
thought I could count on you to be on my side,” Trey said, feeling oddly
breathless.

“I
am on your side—that’s the issue. You didn’t tell me Ethan was still in the
closet.”

Trey
shrugged. “He’ll come out when he’s ready. Besides, he’s not explicitly gay. He
likes women.”

“He
likes Reagan,” Dare said, “but I’ve never once seen him turn an appreciative
eye on another woman. He’ll check out other guys—”

“Are
you saying he doesn’t really love me?” Trey blinked to keep his emotions in
check.

“No.
I’m saying he’s more gay than you are.”

“So
what if he is?”

“Don’t
you think he should own that part of himself? Doesn’t it hurt that he doesn’t
want anyone to know how he feels about you, not even his own family?”

Trey
shrugged, but if he were honest with himself, yeah, it bothered him. He would
love for Ethan to display his feelings more openly, and even though Ethan made
it seem like he hid his feelings because Reagan wanted him to, Trey didn’t
think he’d show them publicly even if Reagan gave the go-ahead.

“And
Reagan.” Dare shook his head. “All she thinks about is how this scandal makes
her
feel.”

“That’s
not true. Besides, this attack is against
her
more than anyone. She’s
been hurt. Humiliated. She has more to lose.”

Dare
huffed out a breath and grabbed the back of Trey’s neck. “The only thing she
should be worried about losing is
you
.”

“She’s
not going to lose me, Dare. I love her. I’ll always be there for her. And the
same goes for Ethan. I’ll always be there for him too.”

“Are
you just going to give and give and give until there’s nothing left of you? Who’s
going to be there for you, Trey?”

Trey
chuckled and grabbed Dare’s wrist until he released his hold. “I have this obnoxiously
nosy brother who looks out for me.”

“Yeah,
well, that guy wants everyone who cares about you to put you first. And it
pisses him off when they don’t.”

“You’re
so obsessed with me.” Trey rolled his eyes.

Dare
grinned and knocked Trey in the head. “Go get on a plane with your
underattentive lovers. I’ll see you tomorrow. Tell Sed that if he needs
anything, just ask. I mean that.”

His
lovers weren’t underattentive, just private. Exasperatingly private. “They’re
different when we’re alone,” Trey said.

“I’m
sure they are. Sorry if I crossed a line by saying something. I just worry that
you’re turning into a bystander in your own life.”

Trey
was still puzzling out those words when he, Reagan, and Ethan climbed into a
cab headed for the airstrip where Exodus End’s private jet was waiting for them
after returning from Seattle.

Was
he getting complacent? Dare often saw in him what he didn’t see in himself. Was
Trey so afraid to tilt the dynamic of his relationship with Reagan and Ethan
that he was just allowing it to play out rather than being an active
participant? Was keeping his opinions on public transparency to himself the key
to his continued happiness, or would it ultimately destroy them?

He
had no idea. He was new to this relationship thing. But he was worried that the
world would eventually wear them down. He just wasn’t sure which of them would
crumble under the pressure first. He hoped it wouldn’t be him.

Ethan
gawked as Trey pulled in front of a massive iron gate and pushed a button on
the intercom outside the driver’s window. The letter
M
was centered in
each gate panel, and a long driveway, flanked by enormous palm trees, snaked
toward the hint of the terra cotta roof of a sprawling mansion. Ethan knew that
Trey’s father was a well-known Hollywood plastic surgeon. He hadn’t realized
that the guy would be majorly loaded.

“Is
that really you, sweetheart?” said a woman’s voice from the speaker. “I thought
you had another couple of weeks on the road.”

“Let
me in, Mom,” Trey said. “I brought someone you’ve been dying to meet.”

“Is
it Reagan?” Her excited voice squeaked through the intercom.

“Hi,
Mrs. Mills,” Reagan called from the passenger seat, leaning across Trey and
waving enthusiastically at the small camera lens above the speaker.

“And
someone else too,” Trey said.

Ethan
instinctively ducked down in the back seat. He hadn’t wanted to meet Trey’s
parents, but Trey had convinced Ethan that he could pretend only to be Reagan’s
bodyguard today, present only to protect her against pushy photographers and
reporters. He wasn’t sure how he could convince anyone that paparazzi lurked in
the Mills’ gated backyard, but it was better than them knowing the truth of his
involvement with their son.

“You
brought Ethan too?” Mrs. Mills asked.

Ethan
froze. She knew about him?

“I
thought you said he was too shy to meet us,” she continued.

“Open
the gate, Mom,” Trey said, shifting in his seat so he could peer at Ethan in
the rearview mirror. “Before he abandons ship.”

A
loud buzz sounded before the gate creaked as each panel slid open. Ethan
reached for Trey’s shoulder, but Trey gunned the engine, tossing an unprepared
Ethan against the back seat.

“What
did you tell her?” Ethan asked, shifting forward. He was going to strangle Trey.

“Nothing
much,” Trey said, waving a dismissive hand. “Just that I love you and that you
give fantastic blow jobs.”

“What!”

Reagan
laughed gleefully at Ethan’s expense. Before Ethan could get a good hold on
Trey, Trey slammed on the brakes, forcing Ethan’s seat belt to bite into his
shoulder before he was flung against the seat again. Trey shoved the
transmission into park while releasing his own belt and then escaped through
his door. Trey wrapped his arms around a tall slender woman whose hip-long
waves of dark hair were streaked with gray. Her multicolor-striped skirt
billowed out around her ankles as Trey lifted her off the ground and twirled
her around.

Ethan
had expected Trey’s mother to be a polished, silicon-enhanced Beverly Hills
supermodel or something, so when the Bohemian hippie-type approached the car
with a streak of blue paint on her cheek and a welcoming smile on her friendly
face, Ethan’s head started spinning. This free spirit was Trey’s mother?

Ethan
couldn’t help but smile back as her green-eyed gaze shifted from Reagan to him.

Of
course this was Trey’s mother. Who else could have raised a spoiled brat who
not only accepted oddities in himself and others, but embraced all sorts of
diversity?

Reagan
exited the car and looked only slightly uncomfortable when Mrs. Mills squeezed
her. “You’re even more lovely in person,” Mrs. Mills said, leaning back and
cupping Reagan’s face between her palms. “How are you holding up? Are you
sleeping okay? Has Trey been supportive?” When Reagan didn’t respond
immediately, Mrs. Mills turned her head and scowled at her son.

“He’s
been wonderful. And so has Dare.” Reagan glanced at the car. “And Ethan too.”

Mrs.
Mills gave Reagan another squeeze. “If you need anything at all, you can call
me, okay? Stay here if you need to. The BHPD are known for keeping the streets
free of paparazzi and have a one-minute response time if called to a resident’s
house.”

One
minute? Ethan thought. Impressive.

Reagan
smiled and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Mom,
she’s fine,” Trey insisted. “You don’t need to call the cops on her behalf.”

Mrs.
Mills released Reagan and approached the car. She leaned in through the open
driver’s window and lifted her eyebrows at Ethan.

“Are
you going to come out and give me a hug, or do I have to come in there after
you?” she asked.

Ethan
hadn’t made a move to even release his seat belt, much less approach the woman.

“Uh.”
Warmth rushed up his throat and flooded his face. Was he blushing? No way. The
temperature inside the car must be rising from the heat of the sun. “I . . .”

Mrs.
Mills opened the back door, and cooler air rushed into the car. “I guess I’m coming
in.”

Ethan
fumbled with his seat belt—because as uncomfortable as hugging a virtual
stranger would be, having her climb in on top of him would be doubly so. She
stepped back to let him escape the confines of the car and then gaped up at him
when he stood before her.

“Wow,”
she said, laying a hand on her cheek. “You didn’t tell me he was such a hunk,
Trey.”

“Yes,
I did,” Trey said, dropping an arm across Reagan’s shoulders and drawing her
against his side. “Tall, dark, and handsome were my exact words.”

“The
cliché doesn’t do him justice,” Mrs. Mills said.

Ethan
chuckled and opened his arms to draw her against him for a hug. She lingered,
taking a moment to squeeze his biceps and pat his pecs.

“Do
you ever do nude modeling?” she asked.

Ethan
was pretty sure his jaw hit the pavers beneath his feet.

“Mom!”
Trey shook his head at her.

“What?”
She shrugged. “I’m an artist. I want to see him naked for the sake of
art
.”

Ethan
was definitely blushing now.

“I’m
not buying it,” Trey said. “You want to see him naked for the sake of eyes.
Yours.”

Reagan
laughed. “Nice gig you’ve got there, Mrs. Mills.”

“Oh,
for heaven’s sake, call me Gwen.” Gwen winked at Reagan and looped an arm
through hers. “Speaking of gigs, tell me all about yours. What’s it like to be
a rock star?”

“Didn’t
you raise two of them?” Reagan walked with Mrs. Mills to the house.

“They
don’t share much about the whole rockstar experience with me,” she said.

“Maybe
that’s a good thing,” Reagan said, her laughter carrying into the house as Mrs.
Mills led her inside.

“Sorry
for tricking you like that,” Trey said, taking Ethan’s hand and staring down at
their entwined fingers. “She wanted to meet you both, and . . .”
Trey shrugged. “She’s cool. I promise she’s cool.”

“Does
she know the truth about the three of us?” No mother on earth could be
that
cool. Not even Ethan’s mom, whom he absolutely adored.

Trey
nodded, his sultry eyes flicking up to meet Ethan’s through a fringe of long black
bangs before he looked down again. “If they love you, parents accept such
things. They just want you to be happy.”

Ethan
captured Trey’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted his head to
stare him in the eye. “I’m not telling my family about any of this, so get it
out of your head. Okay?”

“Is
that why you think I brought you here?” Trey asked.

Ethan
knew that was part of the reason. To show him—and Reagan—that their
relationship
could
be accepted by loved ones. But Ethan’s family wasn’t
anything like Trey’s family. Ethan’s half brothers would never accept that he
was gay. He knew what several of them had done to a gay classmate back in high
school. He knew because he’d watched them do it and he hadn’t told anyone. And
Joshua had been too scared to tell anyone. No one crossed the Mendez brothers—that
hadn’t changed since high school. He might be able to confide in his mom, but
she might let something slip, and then they’d know the truth about their oldest
brother. No, it was better if his family never knew.

“I’m
happy for you,” Ethan said, drawing a silky lock of Trey’s bangs between his
fingertips, “that you have and have always had this great support network. But
not everyone is as lucky as you are.”

Trey
smiled and lifted a hand to his cheek. “You can borrow my support network
anytime you need it.”

How
could Ethan not have fallen for this generous, caring man? And how could he be
expected not to kiss him in his parents’ driveway? He was still kissing him
when a car pulled up beside them.

Ethan
jerked away and watched over his shoulder as an unassuming man climbed from a Mercedes.
He was of average height, with an average build and thinning brown hair, but
Ethan would know that mouth anywhere. He’d just kissed one with an uncanny
resemblance.

“Hey,
Dad,” Trey said. “You’re home early.”

“Mom
said you’d brought a couple of someones home for us to meet. But if you’re
trying to keep this under wraps, you might want to reconsider kissing your
boyfriend out in the open. There’s a photographer with a wide-angle lens parked
across the street at the end of the drive.”

Ethan’s
heart skipped a beat, and he turned to glare down the driveway. The slope
prevented him from seeing the photographer.

“Unless
he’s sitting on the roof of his car, he won’t get a clear shot,” Trey said.
“Don’t worry.”

“This
photographer was a
she
,” Dr. Mills said, “and she was still setting up.
Just thought I’d warn you.”

“I
hate those damned photographers,” Ethan growled.

“Better
get used to it if you’re dating my son.”

Ethan
doubted he’d ever get used to being watched, but he’d endure it for the sake of
being with Trey.

“Let’s
go inside,” Trey said. “You can remind me how irresistible you find me in the
house.”

Ethan
gaped at him, the uncharacteristic blush on his face burning hotter than ever.
How could Trey say things like that in front of his father?

“Did
you bring the other one?” Dr. Mills said. “Your woman?”

“Mom
already commandeered her.”

Dr.
Mills chuckled. “Gwen has been going on about her for weeks. Shattering a music
glass ceiling and all that.”

Trey
lifted a pierced brow at his dad. “There are dozens of women guitarists in the
industry.”

“Are
they part of one of the top-five-grossing metal bands in the world?”

Trey
shrugged. “Well, no.”

Dr.
Mills clapped Trey on the back. “Your mother will have Reagan spearheading a
new activist movement if you don’t rescue her soon.”

Trey
rushed toward the house as if he planned to pull Reagan from some nasty wreckage.
Ethan started after him, but Dr. Mills caught his arm, forcing him to walk
calmly beside him toward the open front door.

“You
look a bit shell-shocked,” Dr. Mills said.

Ethan’s
tongue tied itself into a knot. “I . . . well . . . isn’t
it unusual . . . I mean . . .” What did he
mean? Trey’s parents seemed wonderfully open, but frankly, Ethan found their
acceptance of their son’s unusual lifestyle mind-bogglingly odd. He supposed he
shouldn’t be surprised. Dare was as okay with Trey’s proclivities as their
parents appeared to be, but Dare was young and open-minded. Dare was a rock
star who’d probably seen just about everything there was to see. Trey’s parents
were, well,
parents
.

“You
can’t change who people are on the inside,” Dr. Mills said. “Though I do get
paid a hefty fee for changing them on the outside.” He laughed and slapped
Ethan on the back. “You can let your guard down here. Except in the front
drive. Do you think I should call the cops? They’ll make the photographer leave
the neighborhood.”

Ethan
caught a glare at the bottom of the drive. The sun reflecting off a camera
lens, he decided. “The tabloids aren’t going to go away until they’ve destroyed
us or they get bored with their three new toys, are they?”

“Not
unless you can convince them there isn’t a story here,” Dr. Mills said.