11. Other People, Other Stories

CHAPTER 11

Other People, Other Stories

Tristan

He sat at the edge of his bed in the soft, melancholic glow of a floor lamp in the corner of the room. His eyes were closed like his eyelids weighed a ton. Hands resting in his lap, Cedric cocked his head to one side, swallowed, and let the corners of his lips inch up. "I can feel you," he said softly.

I mock-cringed. "I smell that bad?"

Cedric chuckled and opened his eyes. "How was it?"

I rolled my shoulders. It had been good, but some small part of me didn't let me relax into my new role. Neon Nights was my home, and the kitchen in the back of it was my dream come true. And yet, we all held our breaths at all times because if we went really, really quiet, we could hear the sounds of steamrollers in the distance. Nobody said it aloud, but we all waited to see where the hell we were heading.

I walked across Cedric's bedroom, still struggling to get used to the fact that he lived in an apartment that occupied an entire floor. Even Cedric had scoffed that he didn't need that much space. I imagined that spending weeks living in Mama Viv's spare bedroom had opened his eyes to how all the regular people lived. He liked it. He liked his anonymity. And I liked mine.

I hated that someone was forcing us to give it up.

Cedric met my gaze and shared a sad smile that easily reflected all that I felt. I'm happy to see you. I'm happy to have you. I'm happy that you love me. And yet, the constant undercurrent of feeling powerless in other people's games tugged at our hearts. I'm sorry. I'm sorry it has to be this way .

I knelt on the floor by the bed, my arms resting on Cedric's left knee, and I looked up at him. "Have you decided?"

Cedric swallowed again, louder, and gazed at me with such kindness and softness in his eyes that I found myself falling in love with him all over again. "It's not just me, Tris," he said. "It's your life, too."

"I signed up for this when Mama Viv bought me a ticket to Verdumont," I said. It had been her, of course. She hadn't hesitated a moment before booking a flight that led me to Cedric's palace to face his older brother and make my last effort to break off Cedric's engagement to a girl he barely knew. "I signed up for it when I fell in love with a prince."

"Our lives are going to change, Tris," Cedric said softly. "No more dancing in Neon Nights without paparazzi looking for a scoop. No more visiting Pudding without people snapping photos of us."

"You know what? We'll use the attention well. If people see us visiting Pudding at the zoo, we'll tell them about the efforts to save pandas. If they see us dancing, we'll remind them that anyone can be gay." It was easy to say these things, but I wondered what it would be like for everyone to suddenly know my prince, to know I was his boyfriend. I was afraid of it, and I wasn't ashamed to admit it.

Cedric put his hands on the sides of my face and tipped my head up so our gazes locked onto each other. "For Mama Viv," Cedric said.

"For Mama Viv," I echoed.

My prince and boyfriend and the heart of my heart leaned in and pressed a kiss on my lips. As easily as that, I was afraid a little less.

Mama Viv

Thomas' photographs adorned the wall of my sitting room. The square lights beaming off the small disco ball on the distant windowsill landed across the maximalist composition of the memory wall.

Thomas.

It was hard to believe that it had been nearly forty years since he had passed away. Forty glamorous years that he would have loved to see.

The disco ball moved at its slowest setting, bathing my sitting room in red, white, and blue and matching the rhythm of Pet Shop Boys' "It's a Sin." The melody came to me passively. My heart knew each rise and fall, each crescendo, each melancholic cry of the instrumental track. My voice knew how to match them, thanks to years of practice.

I smoothed my velvety dress and fought back the tears that caught me by surprise. How long had it been since I had last cried? You didn't live as long as me if you let every gut punch melt your mascara. You didn't survive in this cutthroat world if you showed your weakness.

Sliding my long-nailed forefingers under my eyes with care, I stopped my silliness in its tracks, and not a moment too soon. The knock came just as I sniffed.

"Come in," I called to my expected visitor.

Roman Cross popped his head through an opening in the door. "We decent, Mama Viv?"

"Oh, will you let me live it down, Roman?" I scoffed. "One time you run into a lady without her wig, and it's a story for the ages."

Roman chuckled as he entered my sitting room. "It's not that lack of the wig that has me nervous, Mama Viv. It was the red lace lingerie."

"I never took you for a prude," I said, pointing my pointer fingernail right between his eyes.

He crossed the room and gave me a big kiss on the cheek. "You're right. Still, you screamed like I'd ripped the pearls right off your neck."

"Sit," I invited him, taking my place in my well-worn armchair. A stack of books nearly fell over the arm holder where I had piled them up, unable to rein in my attention on Ocean Vuong's poetry or Tomasz Jedrowski's Swimming In The Dark , however much I wished otherwise. "Tell me," I said, folding my hands in my lap.

Roman took a seat in the middle of the ottoman across the long coffee table, his knees spreading wide and elbows resting on them, hands clasped together. "We have something, it's true."

I nodded once.

"But…" Roman hesitated. "I decided to put it into the arsenal instead of pulling the trigger."

I nodded again. "Nuclear?"

Roman spread his hands in a mimicry of an explosion. " Kha-boom. "

"Nobody wants that," I said. I'd rather lose Neon Nights than own its ashes together with the burnt husks of everyone who had helped me.

"It wasn't easy," Roman said. "But I have to protect him, Mama Viv. He's too exposed already, and I won't let him leap off the cliff for us before I've tried everything else."

I agreed unequivocally with that and made him understand as much.

"On the bright side," Roman continued, "they're shitting their pants, Mama Viv."

"Are they?" It was hard to conceal pride from my tone. It was true, I was proud to be the matron of this ragtag band of misfits, but the sort of pride I felt at this very moment was a purer one. Roman was a good kid. He would make me worry until I pulled my wigs apart, but he was never false. Not to his friends and not to himself. Yes, I was proud of Roman Cross.

"I really think we're getting somewhere with the efforts to have Neon Nights recognized for its cultural significance," Roman said in a heated, more passionate tone. "I'll meet Layla Zahran next week to see how soon we can file the motion, but the coverage we're getting is spectacular. It's enough to have Harold Langley foaming."

"And Everett? How is he taking it, darling?" I asked, considering the discussion settled.

Roman nodded, but it was a little more reluctant now. "He's hurt, Mama Viv. It's not helped by the fact that he's watching the aftermath of another young man getting outed in real time. He's looking into his own future, and he's terrified. It makes him angry and rash, I think."

"He's lucky you're there for him," I assured Roman.

He nodded, but it turned into a headshake halfway through. "I'm the lucky one. He's…" And he smiled so brightly and uncontrollably that whatever words had been on the tip of his tongue became obsolete.

Roman and I discussed the upcoming Sunday brunch, and he promised to update the corkboard downstairs with Bradley. We had lined up events for our small rebellion like we were running a political campaign. Like Roman had said, it would be a blitzkrieg, or we would stand no chance.

When Roman stood to go, smiling shyly like a boy who was about to see his crush, my gaze darted to the many images of Thomas on my wall. "Oh, Roman?" I called softly after him, and he paused by the door. "Love him hard," I said, resisting the temptation to give a speech. Those who would understand what it meant didn't need more than three words I had spoken.

Roman said nothing, but the glint in his gray-green eyes told me he understood it perfectly.

Zain Rashid

The deliveries to Neon Nights doubled and tripled over the course of two weeks. As the October sky grew darker and more laden with clouds, and as autumn drizzle fogged our early mornings, my workload grew.

It wasn't too bad.

I enjoyed the walk between Father's store and Vivien's bar. It was only a few streets away, and it never made sense to take the motorized cart out of the garage for what was a nice walk. Even if it meant hauling the crates of produce three times in a single morning with my trusted dolly.

On Friday morning, Father helped me pack the dolly high and urged me to take out the motor. I insisted I didn't need it. He would expect me back sooner if I took it, and I liked catching a bit of an early break like this.

His calloused fingers pulled at his mustache after we had stacked the crates in front of the shop. A gust of cool wind picked up my jacket, and I yanked it back down, chills running up my spine. "Poor lady," Father said. "And poor us when her orders dry up."

For a moment, I was distracted by wondering if my father understood that the lady was a man. I wondered what he would make of that. For all the efforts he had made in learning the language and paying his fair share of taxes, I never knew how well my father had accepted the customs of his new home.

The worry that deepened the carved lines on my father's face made fears worm their way into my heart.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "We have customers in all of Hudson Burrow."

Father looked out for a heartbeat or two, his gaze a thousand miles long, and then looked at me. It was hard to miss the moment when he forced his worry away. "Of course we do, Zain. Of course we do. Don't you worry about that."

His words did nothing to soothe my anxiety.

"Off you go, boy," Father said, tapping my shoulder before slipping back into the shop.

We worked six days per week. Father worked in the office behind the store, discussing orders with our supplier and our customers, and I worked at the cash register whenever I wasn't delivering produce. Mother kept the books, and my little sister was getting into the habit of helping me with restocking the shelves or cleaning at the end of the day. But there were plenty of hours in the day when I could pick up a book from under the counter and read until I all but lost track of time. That was a joy you couldn't buy with all the money in the world. That and a chance to stop by Neon Nights every morning to drop off lettuce, tomatoes, onions, arugula, and all sorts of herbs for garnishing cocktails, plates, and dishes. The variety Neon Nights needed doubled since Tristan took over the kitchen and placed the orders himself.

I pushed the dolly down the street carefully as the crates rocked left and right. The last thing I wanted was to get there and have bruised tomatoes for the kitchen.

When I arrived, only Tristan and Bradley were inside, preparing the place to open in an hour. "Morning," I called as I opened the door and dragged the dolly over the doorstep.

"There he is," Bradley said lightly. I liked Bradley. He was always happy in the morning, no matter how cold or gloomy it was outside.

Tristan was rubbing his bleary eyes and mustered a smile. "Hey, Zain."

"In a hurry again?" Bradley asked.

"Not really," I said. It wasn't exactly true, but Father didn't need to know where all my minutes went. Especially when the streets were still deserted and all the work was finished. "Need help stacking these?" I asked Tristan.

His smile was brighter now. "Would you?"

I shrugged and got down to work, lifting two crates off the stack and carrying them through to where Tristan's fridges stood along the wall. By the time we dusted our hands off, Bradley had mixed up a hot chocolate and set it on the bar. "You gotta have this now," he said, his hands already busy polishing glasses.

"Thanks," I said. Part of me that I could never completely shut down said that I shouldn't use their kindness like this. Another part, however, desperately wanted hot chocolate on a chilly morning. "Are you preparing a party?" I asked.

Tristan returned from the kitchen with signed invoices and a pad on which he was noting something down.

Bradley replied, "You know it. Why don't you come around for a drink?"

I didn't need to think about it. "Gotta work late," I said. "Besides, I don't really drink."

"Oh?" Bradley said, lifting his eyebrows curiously. I guessed that being a bartender was an easy way to believe everyone drank a little.

"It's…religious," I said. Not that I was particularly devout, but Father was.

"We have nonalcoholic cocktails," Bradley said casually.

"I'll think about it," I said, but I knew the answer without having to deny what was just a friendly invitation. It was good to be invited. These guys always invited me, even if it was just politeness. They were way better than any of the sons of my father's friends in that regard. Besides, I knew that they were my tribe, even if I had no plans on ever, ever saying that out loud.

I had my hot chocolate, thanked Bradley for making it, and offered to pay, only to get a very firm "out of the question, Zain." Before I could leave, Tristan said, "We have a big brunch on Sunday. Come around and try some stuff. It's all your produce." He cracked a wide grin.

"I might," I said, feeling the tug of temptation, but I knew I shouldn't. My father didn't look into the individual businesses that he supplied. It probably never crossed his mind to wonder about this place. He had met Vivien only once and spoke to her over the phone on rare occasions, more often than not dealing with the chefs instead. He probably didn't know that all the boys here kissed boys and all the girls kissed girls. And I would rather be damned than be the reason he found out. So long as he lived in blissful ignorance, I had the freedom to come here alone and drop off the orders. From time to time, a cute guy would sit at the bar, and he would look at me with something like a measuring gaze.

And that would make me almost as happy as I was on quiet winter afternoons when no customers interrupted my endless reading sessions behind the cash register.

Cedric

My fingers trembled as I dressed into my best clothes. The goal was to be tastefully formal; in fact, I needed to be easily picked out as a royal without actually wearing a dreadful uniform.

My shirt was white and crisp, and my pants were so dark brown that they were close to black. My pointy brogue boots were ankle-deep, letting me inject a touch of playfulness with a pair of light orange socks that were bound to draw attention. My golden hair was styled much the same way it would have been for any event back home.

Since I had returned to New York with Tristan, I had known that my free time would have to end. The deal I had made with my older brother, Alexander, was that I would perform some of my princely duties from a base in New York City. At some point, the Valois Montclair family would try to strengthen its brand by working closely with the cultural sectors in countries all around the world, and New York City was as good a place to start this effort as any.

My brother, who was set to inherit the throne at a hopefully very distant point in the future, had imagined Verdumont collaborating with museums, galleries, and theaters, which would fall under the umbrella of my duties. I could hardly imagine Alexander Louis Valois Montclair, the Crown Prince of Verdumont, giddy with excitement that my first official event as our country's representative was about to be a very gay brunch followed by a drag show.

The conversation I had on Thursday with Alexander, my father, and my younger siblings was tense at best. Father remained neutral, even though he had been considering this event for well over a week of back-and-forth between us, and Alexander had taken Father's reluctance to help as an endorsement for his own position. "Cedric, you are risking the image of the entire family with this stunt," my brother had said. Thankfully, my younger sister, Sophia, interjected with more reason. "The twenty-first century had been around for twenty years, Alex. Don't you think it's time to join it?"

My brother feared the abandonment of tradition, but my younger siblings were tradition-wreckers as much as I had always been. "We need to redefine," Maximilian had added. "It's the only way to remain relevant."

"And it's the right thing to do ," Sophia had insisted.

Max agreed heartily, which warmed my heart to hear. After I had left Verdumont in a fit of panic to delay my pending engagement to Marchioness élodie de Beaumont, Maximilian had stepped up to entertain our guest, and the two had fallen in love. The stars rarely aligned so well for one single person, but they saved four people in just one month. The twist of fate meant that I was free of the engagement our families had arranged, yet the alliance remained through my younger brother. It also meant that all four of us would be infinitely happier with our partners.

By the end of the phone call, Alexander yielded enough. I would present myself to a gathering of invited journalists at the Sunday brunch in Neon Nights, promoting my efforts to preserve the heritage of the bar for its cultural significance. If I hurt our family's standing too badly, Alexander would never let me live it down. What I had hoped for—and I might have been delusional to hope for it in the first place—was out of the question. The Crown Prince could not attend an overseas ceremony at a run-down bar. I should be thankful that Alexander wasn't going to wash his hands of this business publicly. He hadn't said it like that, but that had been the short of it.

"My love," Tristan said, stepping into my dressing room and letting his gaze trail my entire figure shamelessly. "Do we have time for me to tear your clothes off?"

I extended my arm, and he took my hand. "After," I promised.

He picked up on the tiniest tone of uncertainty in that one word better than I did. "You're going to dazzle them, baby," he said. "Who wants to share the spotlight with Alex anyway?"

That made me laugh. I would have appreciated the support of my family at the moment of coming out, but I would have Tristan, which was better anyway. He was my family. He was the person I chose to build my life with.

Tristan wore a white shirt with an intricate, pale blue pattern and a dark green suit we had ordered to be custom-made. His shoes were double-strap monks for a more casual look.

"You look spectacular," I said, holding him close against my body. "I don't think I ever loved you more than I do right now."

Tristan smiled. "You say that every day."

"And every day, it's truer than the day before," I replied before I kissed him.

Tristan had prepared the menu for the brunch and was nearly committed to working behind the scenes until we finalized my appearance. Then, knowing I would need him, he dropped everything and came to stand by my side.

Thirty minutes later, Tristan and I were sitting in the black limo that was gliding down the closed street toward Neon Nights. In front of the bar, a crowd had already gathered. The appearance of a foreign royal was just juicy enough for those idle enough to show up and see it for themselves. Journalists, passersby, and regular visitors of Neon Nights alike crowded across the street from Neon Nights, and before the entrance, there was a small area for photo ops and a brief speech that I had committed to my memory.

"Are you ready?" I whispered to Tristan as the car slowed down to a halt.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he said.

We stepped out of the car, holding our breaths, and were met with cheers and applause. The speculation that had been flying around in the last four days since announcing this appearance was finally confirmed. Yes, the Verdumont prince was gay. Yes, he was here to introduce himself together with his partner. Why else would he visit Neon Nights?

As Tristan and I stepped to the sidewalk in front of Neon Nights, joined by Mama Viv in her finest clothes, wig, and immaculate makeup, we lifted our hands to wave at the crowd. The cheers were growing louder, and several agents from my security team spoke quickly into their communication devices.

For a single instant, I worried that something was wrong. Then, only a hundred paces behind us, another black limo was moving through the crowd.

Tristan gasped and grabbed my hand as we both looked at the approaching car. People moved aside to let it pass, and a combination of Verdumont and US flags billowed in the wind on its hood.

My heart leaped, and I held Tristan's hand tightly as emotions surged through me.

The car slowed down a few paces away, and the chauffeur got out. He marched around the car and opened the door facing the sidewalk before Neon Nights. Wearing an elegant white dress that left one of her shoulders bare and an extraordinarily styled short hairstyle that was bound to set new trends, my sister, Sophia, stepped out of the car and looked at the cheering crowd.

They called her name, I realized. People on the other side of the street and on either side of the clearing in the middle knew my sister's name.

"They know us," I whispered to Tristan. "They know my family."

Tristan grinned, his eyes tearing up even before mine, and he pointed again.

As Sophia's gaze crossed the crowd and found us, behind her, a blond and beautiful girl in a blue dress and with an elaborate silver necklace stepped out of the limo.

"élodie," I gasped. "And Max!" I had to hide the shock as my brother got out of the car and smoothed his black blazer. It was only then that I noticed that each of them wore a rainbow-styled pin, and Maximilian's was the most prominent against the black fabric of his blazer.

The three royals greeted the crowd as their limo moved along. They walked over to me, and I realized that my cheeks were hot and wet with tears of joy.

My family hadn't forgotten all about me.

Sophia was the first to hug me. "Did you think you'd have to do this alone?"

"Yes. I did." My voice was rough and hoarse with emotions, but I hugged her tightly and held her close for a long while. After she let go, my brother hugged me for just as long.

"We nearly damn missed it," he said.

"You're here now," I said.

And when élodie, the girl I had been ordered to marry, came to us, I hugged her like I hugged my siblings. She was as much our family as Tristan, and for that, I loved her. "Thank you," I whispered close to her ear. "Thank you for being here."

The commotion lasted less than a minute, and when I faced the crowd of fans, journalists, and photographers, there wasn't a single doubt left in me.

Everett

"You've got to be kidding me," I said.

Roman's hand slid around my waist, and it felt wonderful. "Sorry I never told you." Then he chuckled. "No. Scratch that. I'm not sorry. The look on your face is priceless."

Today, he had insisted on me finding a way to come. He had never mentioned that there was a public event happening or that a guy I'd been hanging out with for the past two weeks was a freaking prince. "You all knew?"

Roman shook his head. "Some of us knew. They wanted to have a few weeks of anonymity before this happened."

I didn't mind being the last to find out. The truth was, I had been around Cedric just enough to know that he was loved by everyone, but I hadn't had a chance to get to know any of them that well.

And now, as Roman and I stood with the crowd of onlookers across from Neon Nights, I watched Cedric, Tristan, and three royals join Mama Viv for photos by the open door of her bar.

Cedric stepped forward and began to speak to the crowd, which immediately went quiet and strained their ears. His eyes glimmered. He pressed a closed fist against his lips for a second and grinned broadly before speaking up. To everyone here who had ever visited Neon Nights, his words rang a familiar bell, but to me, they were as if he spoke for us both.

Neon Nights was the place where he found acceptance in the times when he didn't think he would find it anywhere. And not only had Mama Viv provided him with her protection, but she had also given him a home. There, he'd found the love of his life. There, he'd found friends and freedom.

The cheers exploded when Cedric pulled Tristan close to him and kissed him passionately, Cedric's siblings applauding and beaming with pride. Their rainbow glimmered in the flashlights of the countless cameras that had gathered to document this moment.

Together with Tristan, Cedric warned everyone that Neon Nights was the target of a ruthless campaign and that its cultural significance meant it had to be protected.

Guilt roiled in me. It was my father who threatened this place. It was my family that wanted to see Neon Nights dismantled and torn down. And a sure way to win rested in my pocket, but I didn't dare use it.

Maybe , I thought to myself, holding Roman close for support, just maybe, Cedric's sacrifice will be enough. And his didn't hurt nearly as much as mine would.

I held Roman even closer, not wanting us to part, and we watched Cedric's siblings voice their support for their brothers. "Gay people exist everywhere, even if you choose not to see it. And it's precisely those who are not seen that need a place like Neon Nights," Sophia Montclair said.

Maximilian, a tall and slender guy with a mischievous streak that faded away when he spoke up, said that it broke his heart that his brother had had to seek acceptance elsewhere but that he was grateful to Mama Viv, Neon Nights, and the bar's patrons for giving Cedric what his family should have given him sooner.

"Thanks for making me come," I whispered into Roman's ear.

He looked up at me, knowing well how much all those words had meant to me, and smiled. He tilted his head toward the door to his building, which was just a few paces down the street. "The show won't start until tonight," Roman said. "Why don't we hang out at my place?"

He didn't need to have his face flush or cheeks turn a little pink for me to leap at the opportunity to be alone with him.

Without another word, I took his hand and led the way to the entrance.

They would all be just fine without us. And me? All that I could ever need was right here in this person. In his heart was all that I had ever desired.