Date: Sun, 4 May 2008 12:37:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: justinr_88@yahoo.com
Subject: Love is All that Matters chapter 20

Do not read further if you are not of legal age. All the
usual disclaimers and copyright laws apply. This story is
the second volume in the "Doing Hard Time" saga.


LOVE IS ALL THAT MATTERS
~ Chapter 20 ~


From the Narrative of Harrison Ridgeway IV:

"Do you really have to go?" asked Josh, putting on his best
puppy-dog expression as we cuddled together in bed the next
morning.

I laughed. "Yes. I can't afford to be late on my first day
of work."

Looking dejected, he said, "If you insist ..."

"Come on, cheer up," I cajoled him. "It's not like I won't
be back -"

Josh didn't let me finish my sentence. "Don't. Not even as a
joke. I couldn't bear being separated from you again."

I felt a lump in my throat. I made an attempt to be
cheerful. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Now, will
you let me go?"

Josh looked deep into my eyes before reluctantly releasing
his grip around my waist.

"Thank you. And for that, you get an extra-special good
morning kiss." I suited my actions to my words. After a long
and profound French kiss, I finally managed to untangle
myself from him and headed into the shower.

                            * * *

I already had the job, but I still felt nervous. It wasn't
so much the actual work that I feared, although admittedly
I'd never worked before, but the people. I'm usually nervous
about meeting new people. Fortunately, there was at least
one person I already knew at Fernley & Ashmore, and he
happened to be the senior partner.

"Just one more signature - here," said Mr. Fernley. I signed
my name on the dotted line he indicated on the contract.

"That's the lot of it - you're officially hired." He smiled.
"Don't look so anxious. We work hard here at F&A, but that
doesn't mean we're all work and no play. We have some very
nice people here and I'm sure you'll agree once you get to
know them. I'll get you started, shall I? I've told
Stephanie - she's in charge of your division - to show you
around."

I was still a little tongue-tied. I managed to say, "Thank
you, sir."

He frowned slightly. "I haven't mentioned to her - or anyone
else - about your sexuality. That's entirely up to you to
disclose, if you should wish to. But rest assured, no one
here will judge you for it. You wouldn't be our first openly-
gay employee. Phil, who's also in your section, has worked
with us for more than five years and he gets along very well
with everyone here."

"Oh." I felt unsure about my feelings on that matter. There
was, after all, no longer any reason to hide, but I still
didn't exactly feel comfortable flaunting the fact that I
was gay to everyone.

Mr. Fernley continued, "I have, however, told her about the
- incident, shall we call it? And I've instructed her not to
let any of the other staff question you about it."

I felt extremely grateful to Mr. Fernley. I had dreaded
having to explain my role in Dean's gay-bashing. "Thank you
so much, sir."

"There's no need to thank me. Just work hard at your job and
that's all the thanks I need. We might not have many large
firms in our clientele - in fact, we only have one that's
headquartered here in Corona Beach - but we do serve a lot
of loyal clients and I don't like to let them down."

"I promise I'll do my best, sir."

"Good. Harrison - can I call you Harrison? Or would you
prefer Harry?"

I looked at him strangely. "Um ... it's only my boyfriend
who calls me that, sir."

"Oh, right. Then Harrison it is. Just remember, work hard
and make friends." He pressed the intercom and spoke into
it. "Please send in Miss Lee."

Stephanie Lee was a fairly attractive woman of Asian descent
who looked to be in her early thirties. She greeted me
cheerfully with a twinkle in her eye.

"Welcome to F&A - although we don't usually refer to
ourselves using the acronym. We have a more innovative name
but I'm afraid I can't say it in front of the boss."


Mr. Fernley looked amused. "No doubt because it involves a
misuse of my surname. Harrison, this is Stephanie Lee.
Stephanie, this is Harrison Ridgeway, who'll be working
under you. So, if you would be so kind as to show him around
the office and to his own cubicle ..."

"Of course, sir." Turning to me she said, "Come along." I
said a final thank you to Mr. Fernley and followed Stephanie
out into the office.

She gave a brief commentary as we walked down the corridor.
"The audit division has this part of the office over here.
The drinking fountain is over there, and the rest of the
facilities - including the absolutely necessary coffee
machine - can be found in the staff lounge here. Luckily
it's right next to us - much to the dismay of the guys over
in Taxation."

I couldn't help grinning.

"Ah, so you can smile," she said, while smiling herself. I
blushed.

She shook her head in amusement. "You looked so very serious
just now in Adrian's office. Relax, we don't bite."

"That depends," interrupted a new voice with a vague accent.
I turned around to see its owner.

There were no suppositions about this guy's looks - he was
hot, plain and simple. He had straight dark brown hair and
his handsome face could have been sculpted out of the finest
marble. I'm getting a little poetic here, but you get the
picture. His appearance was having a weird effect on me. It
seemed that every time I laid eyes on a hot guy, my hormones
would go out of control. What was this? It wasn't so long
ago that even if I did spot a good-looking guy, I would
suppress any attraction I might have towards him. Nowadays I
felt like a giddy love-struck teenager. I sternly reminded
myself that I was way past adolescence - and I had a
boyfriend. A boyfriend who was madly in love with me. I told
myself to push all lustful thoughts that didn't involve Josh
out of my head.

Unfortunately, the guy in front of me wasn't going to make
things easy. "Where did you pick up this cutie?" he asked,
eyeing me with unconcealed interest. That was enough to set
me blushing again.

Stephanie sighed. "Phil, paws off the newbie. He might not
appreciate your advances." To me she said, "Phil is our
resident gay guy. And he may try to hit on you, because you
are admittedly too cute for your own good."


By this point I didn't think my face could go a deeper shade
of pink.

Stephanie said, with a trace of sympathy, "We aren't trying
to purposely embarrass you. I was just going to say, if Phil
tries anything, you call me and I'll take care of him."

"Hey!" Phil looked hurt. "You're making me out to be a
sexual predator. And without even introducing me to the
newbie!"

I extended my hand and said mechanically, "Harrison Alistair
Ridgeway the Fourth."

He raised his eyebrows. "Okay ... Since we're on full name
terms here, I'm Philippe Languedoc St-Remy Montpellier."

I blinked. He added, with a grin, "But around here they just
call me Phil."

"You're French," I voiced my realization out loud. "

He shrugged. "Yeah, but from the real thing, not Canada. I
practically grew up in America, though. Both my parents were
attached to the French embassy here since I was about six.
They retired the same year I got into Stanford, so I stayed
behind while they went back to France. And then I found my
permanent home here in California." He sounded like an
average American except for a slight accent, which, to my
dismay, I found rather sexy. It didn't help when he added
with a wink, "But I'm still very much in touch with my
French roots - you know we're a very romantic people,
right?"

Stephanie glared at him. "Are you still trying to flirt with
him? I don't think he likes it. Look, you've scared him into
silence."

Phil looked genuinely guilt-stricken. "Sorry, I didn't mean
to make you uncomfortable."

I managed to find my voice. "It's okay, I don't really
mind." And then, surprising even myself, I added, "I'm gay,
too." Where did that admission come from? I hadn't meant to
reveal that piece of information to my colleagues so soon.

The two of them stared at me and despite what Mr. Fernley
had said, I was starting to get a little worried by the
silence. Stephanie was the first to speak. "Damn it, why is
it the cute ones are always gay?"

"You're out of luck, Steph. Though your husband will be
pleased," Phil said gloatingly. To my look of surprise he
replied, "Oh yes, she's married . with a whole brood of kids
to boot."

"I have only three kids," she snapped. She added to me,
"You've really gone and sealed your fate now. Phil is never
going to leave you alone."

Okay, I told myself, think quickly and nip this in the bud.
Otherwise Phil wasn't going to be the only one getting horny
ideas.

"Would it make a difference if I had a boyfriend?" I asked.

Phil's face fell. "A boyfriend?" He sighed loudly. "This is
not my lucky day either. The first gay colleague I get and
he already has a boyfriend. And here I am at thirty without
having met my life partner."

"You're thirty?" I asked in surprise. He certainly didn't
look it.

"Well, I'd be asking if Mr. Fernley wasn't breaking child
labor laws by hiring you, but yes, I'm thirty."

"I'm twenty-two!" I protested, feeling a twinge of
annoyance. Child labor laws indeed! I wondered grumpily why
everyone thought I was still in my teens, conveniently
forgetting how I'd had the same thought myself just a few
moments earlier. Blame it on raging hormones.

"To be fair, you do look much younger than 22, but
definitely not young enough to be considered child labor,"
said Stephanie, trying to make peace. "Phil ... just because
you can't have him doesn't mean you can't play nice."

"I always play nice," he said with a wounded expression
which strangely reminded me of Josh.

Suddenly Stephanie's cell phone rang. "I have to take this.
I'm sorry, Harrison. I'll introduce you to everyone else
later, okay? Phil, can you show him to his cubicle? It's the
empty one next to yours. And BE NICE!" she warned as she
went into her own cubicle to take the call.

I jumped when Phil put his hand on my arm. "Relax. I promise
I won't hit on you since it's clearly making you
uncomfortable."

"Really?" I didn't quite believe him, considering how
flirtatious he'd been earlier. And I wasn't sure that I
actually wanted him to stop.

"Hey, I am not the sexual predator Steph made me out to be.
I know when my attentions aren't wanted. I especially don't
hit on guys who already have boyfriends. I promise I'll put
my wicked desires aside and let you do your work." He
winked, but sounded sincere enough.

I decided to test him and satisfy my curiosity at the same
time. "I'm glad to hear it. By the way, what desires did you
have in mind, exactly?"

"Er ... are you sure you want to know? It's not something
I'm proud of -" My curiosity was definitely piqued now. I
glared at him intently and forced him to divulge the
details.

Looking embarrassed, he admitted, "Something along the lines
of throwing you on a table, ripping your clothes off and
ravishing you."

"Hmm, sounds delightful." A brief glimmer of hope appeared
in his brown eyes. I acted quickly to dash it by adding,
"I'll suggest it to my boyfriend when we're in the mood for
kinky sex."

"Okay, I get it," he said in a defeated tone. "No more
flirting. But we can be friends?" he asked, with a hint of
pleading in his smooth, sexy voice.

Concentrate, Harrison! I told myself sternly. To him I said,
"We are going to be working together. So yes, we can be
friends. One condition though - can I call you Phil?"

"Unless you prefer the full version?" he joked. I hurriedly
shook my head. I didn't even remember it past Philippe.

He grinned. "And I'll call you Harrison."

"It's a deal." We shook hands.

"I for one am glad that there's finally someone I can
discuss gay stuff with." Seeing the worried expression on my
face, he added, "Don't panic, I'm not going to ask for
details of how good the sex is."

"Oh, good. Because you aren't going to get any out of me.
I'm still relatively new to the gay sex experience."

He raised his eyebrows and said seductively, "If you need a
guide ..." Then he stopped himself by clamping his hands
over his mouth.

"Sorry! I know, I promised. But it slipped out. I couldn't
help it." He looked at me with wide innocent eyes.

I couldn't resist laughing. I could tell that he was just
pulling my leg. It was going to be fun working with him - as
long as I didn't let it go any further than that.


"Okay, can you show me my cubicle now?" I asked.

"Sure, right this way," he said, giving a very theatrical
bow and making me laugh again.

                            * * *

That was Monday. On Thursday evening, I came home smiling to
myself as I remembered one of Phil's endless jokes -
something that didn't go unnoticed.

"You're looking pleased," noted Mom as I walked into the
kitchen. "I take it everything's going alright at the
office?"

"It's been great, Mom," I said enthusiastically. "I think
I'm actually starting to get the hang of it now. I already
know everyone in my section and I'm just getting to know the
rest. And some of them are really, really nice." That last
sentence referred to Phil more than anyone else.

Mom smiled as she grated cheese on top of the lasagna she
was making. "I'm glad you've fitted in so well within a
week."

"Where are Josh and Reid?" I asked as I grabbed a plum from
the fruit basket.

"Hmm?" Mom said absent-mindedly. "Oh, Josh had some errands
to run. And I think Reid is practicing for the surfing
competition next month. And don't let the juice dribble onto
your shirt; I have to do all the washing now and as much as
I love you, I don't fancy scrubbing out stains from your
shirt."

I blinked at the sudden change in topic. "Okay, Mom."

Spotting the day's newspaper, which I hadn't read yet, I sat
down at the table and flipped through it while munching on
the plum. Mom placed the lasagna in the oven and set the
timer. Just then the doorbell rang.

I started to get up but Mom said, "No, you sit and finish
your fruit. I'll get it."

I nodded and continued my perusal of the newspaper. I was so
engrossed in trying the puzzle on the back page that I
didn't hear the raised voices at first. I looked up from the
paper. One of the voices belonged to Mom, but the other was
equally familiar ... Dad?

I suddenly felt a chill run down my spine. It wasn't a big
surprise that Dad could have found out where we were staying
- after all, it had been more than a week and, considering
the resources at Dad's disposal, I was surprised it hadn't
been sooner.

I slowly folded the newspaper. Dad sounded really angry. I
could hear the word "divorce" being mentioned. I realized
that Mom's attorney must have served him the divorce papers.
I got up and crept along the hallway, mentally preparing
myself to go out and confront Dad if he got violent. I had
almost turned the corner that would bring me to the front
door when when I heard Mom say, "Not so loudly, Alistair!
He's home and he might hear you."

I stopped in my tracks. What was it that Mom didn't want me
to hear?

"I don't care about that bastard!" Dad shouted. "You're
coming back with me."

"Please, Alistair! I'm sick and tired of this. I can't be
your wife anymore. Not now that I know what you did to him.
How could you?"

"How could I? How could you? We've been married for nearly
30 years and now you want to leave me over some bastard
child who isn't even yours!"

Those words cut deeper than any knife. My world came
crashing down around me.

"Please, Alistair! Keep your voice down!" Mom pleaded.

Out of their sight, I slowly sank to the floor.

"I couldn't care less if that bastard knew that he was
adopted! At least then everyone will know that I didn't
really have a faggot for a son!"

"Alright!" Mom screamed. "Alright. I'll put a stop to the
divorce proceedings. Just don't - don't let him know the
truth."

I didn't hear any more of their conversation. I suppose
there must have been more to it. Mom managed to get rid of
him somehow. But my mind was somewhere else entirely. The
woman I loved the most in the world wasn't really my mother.
And what was Phoebe then - my protective elder sister? She
was never really that, I realized. I didn't have an adorable
baby nephew. I didn't know who I was. My whole life was a
lie. And I had allowed myself to be beaten by a man who
wasn't my biological father. Of course I saw the reason
behind the beatings now - he hadn't cared about me at all,
because I wasn't his son at all. Pathetic. That was what I
was.


I felt numb - drained of emotion, as I leaned back against
the wall. Mom shut the front door and almost tripped over my
legs as she turned into the hallway.

"Harrison?" She looked pale and horrified, holding a hand to
her chest. "No ... you didn't hear?" Even she realized the
pointlessness of that question.

The voice that replied didn't sound like my own. It sounded
cold and flat - dead. "So who am I, Mom? Can I even call you
that?"

"No, Harrison." She shook her head desperately. "Nothing
Alistair said was true."

"Then why did it make you agree to not divorce him?"

"I -" Mom looked at a loss for words. "Harrison, you're my
youngest child. I want you to know that. No matter what
Alistair says, you've always been - and always will be - my
baby boy."

I looked her bleakly. "Then it's true. I'm not your son. And
you're not my Mom. Phoebe isn't my sister."

"No, Harrison. It isn't like that," Mom cried. "I swore from
the moment I set eyes on you, that I'd love you as if you
were my own child. I loved you more than I did Phoebe, even
though she was biologically mine."

Not paying attention to anything she said, I shouted, "You
deceived me! You let me worship a man who beat me - because
I thought he was my father!"

Mom protested, "Harrison, I didn't know -"

I cut her off. "You know what I told myself every time he
hit me with his belt? I told myself that he only wanted the
best for me - his son. But I was never his son!" I yelled at
her. "It was all for nothing!"

Mom's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. If
I had, I would never have let it happen. Whatever Alistair
did, to me, you were always my child."

Mom tried to put her arms around me. I pushed her aside
roughly.

"Harrison, please! I couldn't bear to be parted from you. I
wanted the bond that we shared, between a mother and son, to
last forever. That's why I never told you the truth.
Harrison, please forgive me. I'm sorry for what your father
did." She was out of breath and beads of sweat formed on her
brow, but I didn't notice. I was past caring.

My mother - no, the woman I'd thought was my mother - had
lied to me. She'd lied to me for every single day of my
fucking life, about my parents, my family, even my name. I
didn't have any right to the name Harrison Alistair Ridgeway
IV. I got up from the floor and said quietly, in that voice
which belonged to someone else, "He was never my father -
just like you were never my mother."

Mom reeled back as if she'd been slapped. She struggled to
rise. "Harrison, don't leave me!" She pleaded with me
breathlessly, as if every word took a great effort.

On any other occasion, I would have run to her if I'd heard
that heart-rending plea. I would, at the very least, have
noticed that something was wrong. But now I didn't see, or
feel, anything - other than emptiness. It was as if where my
heart was, there was only a hollow. I turned away from her.

"Harrison, please ." she gasped, clutching her chest. Then
she toppled forward. I heard a thud and turned around
quickly to see her lying prone on the floor.

"Mom?" I asked uncertainly. My blood ran cold when she
didn't move.

I knelt down beside her. "Mom!" I turned her over. Her blue
eyes - which people always said were so like my own,
although I now knew it couldn't possibly be genetic -
flickered.

"Don't leave me," she whispered.

"No, Mom, I won't. I promise I won't." The numbness that had
overcome me earlier dissolved and I was crying helplessly.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean any of those things I said."

"You'll ... always be ... my son," she gasped.

"No!" I was in shock. This couldn't be happening. "Mom! Stay
with me. Please ..." I begged her. What had I done?

Her eyes met mine and I saw, reflected in their watery
depths, the unconditional love that I'd scorned due to
events that had been out of her control. I would have unsaid
all the hurtful things I'd said in the last few minutes if I
could, but it was too late for that.

And as those brilliant blue eyes closed, I prayed that it
wasn't too late for Mom either.


                    To be continued . . .


A cliffhanger for the landmark twentieth chapter! Hope
you've all enjoyed it, although I had to take a break from
the Caleb & Julian prison subplot. Let me know what you
think of this chapter, and previous ones, by emailing me at
justinr_88@yahoo.com. I love hearing from you guys, and it
makes writing this story worthwhile.
Next chapter to follow soon.