“But I never wanted it.” He choked up. He squeezed Ricky’s hand just to make sure he was still there. “We already have a life back home. Palm Springs.”
The lawyer yawned. “You can always sell it. It wasn’t what my client wanted, of course. For his bar or the staff.”
“If he cared so much about Fantabulous! and the staff,” Ernesto fumed, more Kitty spilling out, “he wouldn’t have left both to someone who hasn’t cared in years. He’s already a rich asshole, Jake. Why make him an even richer asshole?”
“The decision was up to my client, ma’am…sir.” Emmet sweated.
“Then I’ll sell it.” Ian proposed without thinking. “I just want to go home. I’ll work out a fair severance for each of you.”
“You came close to shutting us down the first time you didn’t care, Ian Hornsby.” Ernesto rolled his eyes. “You only came back to finish the job. Feel free to chime in now, sweetie.” He touched Ricky’s collar, eyes pleading.
“We can make sure your severance lasts for a couple of months to get you by.” He tried to sound upbeat but only came off entitled like Ian. How many times in the Philippines did the rising rent or the cost of goods threaten to shut down Mama’s business in the palengke? How many times had he been let go from a job and given “fair” compensation to survive on until he landed his next job? A couple of weeks of money when it sometimes took months. But Ricky wanted to go home. If he lost his own, he’d have to depend on Ian. A slap to his pride paled in comparison to their problems. He whispered, “Ian, can we talk privately before you make a decision?”
“You can use Jake’s office in the back,” Tori pointed to a corridor off the bathrooms.
“I remember where it is.” Ian seemed ashamed to admit.
Compared to the bar’s spacious main area with shaded glass doors connecting the patio that flooded it with light if desired, the back office felt like stepping into the dungeon. The box-shaped room was cramped and windowless, the only light from a green-shaded banker’s lamp on the roughed-up steel desk. On its black Formica top sat piles upon piles of yellowing and musty paperwork. It was even on top of the ancient dusty beige desktop computer.
“At least you agree we should sell the bar and give the staff healthy severance packages,” Ian said.
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“But we should find a buyer who’ll promise to keep the staff.”
“We’ll be lucky if they agree to keep the business open.” He was at least being honest. “The land and the liquor license might be worth something, but the business—a gay bar—is another story.”
“No, we need to make sure the new owner abides by our terms.” Even discussing selling Jake’s dream sounded like a betrayal. At least to Ricky.
“You shouldn’t have made friends with them so quickly.” He shook his head accusingly. “It’s going to make it harder to do the right thing.”
“By right, you mean getting out of owning it as quickly as possible.”
“I mean, going home, which might not happen tonight. What do you want to do?”
“I wanna go home.” Ricky looked him in the eyes. “I don’t want these nice folks to suffer.”
“Someone’s sure to suffer when we all want different things.” Ian rested his hands behind his neck. “As much as possible, I don’t want it to be us. Haven’t we been through enough?”
He wanted to point out he was the one who put their relationship through the wringer since he went on his cloak-and-dagger mission to speak to the ex he never told him about. His first love, who left him their present problem. He should agree to wash their hands of the ghost of Jacob Monk. It was past midnight. Everything could still go back to normal. He wasn’t needed at the restaurant until much later. As for Ian, he could start the process to sell Fantabulous! “Sell Fantabulous!” The two words already haunted him
“I’ll call in sick for a couple of days.” He wrapped his arms around Ian’s waist. He stepped back after recognizing he was wearing the uniform. He’d turned a blind eye to it until the silver Fantabulous! logo literally poked him in the eye. Was it Jake’s?
Ian noticed him grimace. “It’s the barback’s extra shirt. He caught me crying in the bathroom. He felt sorry for me.”
“Promise me, we won’t make a decision lightly.” He rested his head on Ian’s shoulder.
“I promise. We’ll make the right decision.” Ian raised his hand, two fingers up. Scout’s honor. “Together.”
Ricky leaned in, inhaled him. His skin still stunk of champagne, barely thinned down by tap water. Faint but still there. He loved Ian so much, despite their circumstances. He couldn’t wait to get close to him again. But not here. Not in Jake’s office. Not with his chosen family in the next room, who were on the verge of losing everything. Especially their one last tie to him. Despite his bravado, this place meant nothing to him. Did some small part of the man he loved feel that way, too?
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