13. Tearing It Down

CHAPTER 13

Tearing It Down

Roman

Everett's message was short. "It's happening today. I'm on my way."

I was still in my underwear, sitting at the dining table, milk dripping from a spoonful of cereal, and my head was stuffed with cotton after just waking up. Nothing could have cleared my mind as quickly as the adrenaline injection that came with his message.

Hurrying up to eat my breakfast so I wouldn't have to fight on an empty stomach, I dialed Mama Viv before anyone else. She picked up after a moment, some sort of premonition telling her this was important. I could hear it in her voice when she answered that she understood why I would be calling at seven in the morning.

"Today?" Mama Viv asked after I had told her.

"Today," I repeated.

There was a moment of silence as if she needed to rise against the waves of fear and surprise. "Very well. Thank you, Roman. We better roll our sleeves."

After swallowing the last bit of breakfast, I trapped the phone between my ear and shoulder and carried the bowl and spoon to the sink. "I'll phone the usual suspects, and you can call on your old patrons to see who would be willing to show up." One thing was for sure: we weren't getting the landmark status by noon.

I imagined Mama Viv would let Bradley and Tristan know. Tristan would call Cedric, who had been on a steady media tour since his appearance at Neon Nights, promoting the cause and sharing part of his personal relationship with the bar.

Running to the bathroom to shower, I called Luke Whitaker next. I let the water run while I applied a smidgen of shaving cream above my upper lip and over my chin. Luke answered my call after a few moments, his voice soft like he hadn't been awake for long.

"Rome?" he asked.

"Sorry if I woke you up," I said, nicking myself with the razor. Dammit, I only had three inches of skin to shave, and I couldn't do it without a massacre. I realized I was trembling. "I need you to mobilize your fans. Today. The sooner, the better. We have to pack Neon Nights with supporters."

Luke gasped, his tone sharper and more alert. "I'll do it. I can be there in an hour."

"Is Rafael free?" I asked, sliding the razor over my chin with great care.

Luke spoke away from the phone, then returned to me. "He is now."

I didn't have the right words to thank him. This right here was the power of Mama Viv's lifelong generosity. People dropped everything the very moment she was in need.

Once Luke and Rafael were locked in, I took a quick shower, hurried back into my room, and called Martha while putting my clothes on. She would spread the word among our activist group.

By the time I was ready to cross the street and meet Mama Viv, I only had one more call to make. And Layla was ready. She was already on her way to the office this morning, and she was prepared to postpone her meetings in favor of Neon Nights. She agreed that the only thing we could do now was make a peaceful stand against Harold Langley and his aggressive strategy to take our bar away from us. "If there's enough of us, we will be noticed. And if we are noticed, it will force someone's hand to act sooner. Landmark's not out of the question yet, Roman." And with that, Layla said she would stop by the office for a briefing and join us at the bar.

I walked out of the building and nearly collided with Everett, who was standing in front of the door with an exhausted look on his face.

"Rome," he whispered, taking a step toward me and merging our bodies in a tight, warm hug that sent away the chill of the morning.

"How are you?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"Won't they look for you?" I asked. Everett was supposed to be working, no matter how loosely that term was defined in his case. I put a hand on his cheek and gazed into his eyes.

"What's the point?" he asked. "Today's the day I lose my parents."

"Baby," I whispered.

He blinked fast and shook his head. "I'd rather wait for him here than come with his group."

"Maybe you won't have to get involved," I said, thinking about what Layla had told me. "Maybe…"

Everett stopped me with a kiss. It was a blazing collision of two souls that erased whatever rambling thoughts had been swirling around my head. And when he pulled back, licking his lips, he shared a small smile. "Whatever happens, I'm not hiding you any longer."

We crossed the street together and walked into Neon Nights, where all the lights were on and the staff stood around nervously. Tristan and Cedric were with Bradley at the bar, Mama Viv paced, and a couple of servers sat around a table, drumming their fingers against the surface.

After a round of greetings, we put our heads together and decided on the course of action.

"What matters the most is that nobody breaks off and does something stupid," I underlined. "The cops are going to be here, so let's not give them a reason to see us as a threat. We need media attention on this, and Rafael is calling his contacts as we speak. This has to be an act of bravery and defiance, or it'll crumble. And whatever you do, Mama Viv, do not let Harold Langley bully you into signing anything."

"He won't need anyone's signature," Everett said dryly. "I believe that Jacobs manipulated the eminent domain. All they really need is to scare us into leaving the bar."

My fists closed tightly. "They'll have to carry us out."

The look on Everett's face told me that it was precisely what they meant to do. The cops would be presented with sufficiently manipulated documents proving the force of sale, and they would have no choice but to remove the trespassers.

I went on to describe the battle formation. We would fill up the bar with supporters and create a line of defense before it.

As the minutes and hours passed, a small group turned into a crowd. And when I thought that the hundred or so people I had been hoping for turned into three times as many, it was hard not to feel some silly, misguided optimism.

"If all else fails, between the three hundred of us, we'll be able to eat the bulldozers," I told our intimate group in Mama Viv's sitting room.

And just then, commotion alerted me that they were coming.

When Luke, Rafael, Cedric, Tristan, and Mama Viv left the sitting room to stand in front of the bar, leading a line of defenders with them, I lingered upstairs with Everett. He seemed dazed, burdened beyond imagination, and worn to tatters.

It broke my heart to see him like this.

For all the misfortunes of reality, he was still their son. He still needed to come out to them and be met with dismissal and bigotry. And I hated everything about this.

"Stay here," I told him. "You don't need to do it like this."

But his shrug only repeated the same sentiment as earlier. What was the difference?

The distant roar of bulldozers grew louder, and the chatter downstairs matched it. I needed to be outside, and leaving Everett alone was the hardest choice I had to make. I wanted to hold him in my arms and promise that everything would be fine.

"Let me speak to him first," I proposed instead. "If he changes his mind, you won't have to come out like this. You can do it when you're ready."

Everett smiled gratefully, his eyes warm. He walked slowly across the room toward me. "I can't believe I tried to resist you, Roman," he said in a sweet, deep voice. "The last cry, the final prayer, the attempt to resist you and prove to myself that I was not gay…" He shook his head. "You…you are the best goddamn thing that ever happened to me."

I took his hands, and we neared one another until only inches of empty space remained between us. Everett leaned in, his nose almost touching mine. "No," I said. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me."

"I'll fight you on that, Rome. I will," he said.

I couldn't believe we were having this light banter when the bar was about to fall apart around us, but the words opened up something locked and hidden deep within me. He was more than a crush. And I was more than in love with him. "Will you love me when this is over?" I asked, fear soaring through me and touching my heart with its sticky, ugly fingers. I wanted to explain what I meant. I wanted to remind him of what it was going to cost him.

But Everett only smiled, his eyes glimmering. "There's no God in Heaven that will be able to stop me, Roman."

I pushed myself to the tips of my toes and pressed my lips hard against his.

Mine , a greedy voice said. He's all mine. Forever .

"I love you," I whispered as I pulled my lips away from his.

"And I love you," Everett said, the anxiety gone from his voice, and only sweet softness remained.

This time, it was easier to turn away from him and face his father. This was what I was fighting for.

Everett

I stood three feet away from the open window in a small spare bedroom that looked out on the street. Two massive bulldozers stood in the background, bored operators lingering there impotently and men in suits trotting around.

My father was flanked by his lawyers, and a grim expression pulled at his facial muscles. He glared at the five people who stood before the long line of protesters that blocked the sidewalk. Inside, I knew there were a hundred other people, making sure no work could be done.

Police officers stood on the sides, tense but not too much. The standoff was quiet, only brimming with tension.

As I stepped closer to the window, concealed by the thin white curtain, I noticed movement downstairs. Striding like a valiant knight on a battlefield, Roman emerged with his head held high.

God, I loved him. He really was my everything. And this final effort to protect me made me both grateful and cowardly. I needed to be next to him. I needed to do my part. If Roman, who had left his home with indifference from his parents and no support systems around him, could walk up to one of the most powerful business moguls in the city, then what was my excuse for hiding behind the curtain?

If you hide and wait, you'll have millions of dollars to fix every injustice the world has ever done to that man , I thought. They couldn't deny me my money just for being gay. There were rules to protect me, too. But by betraying my family's business interests, I would be the one breaking the rules.

"You must be Harold," Roman said, positioning himself in front of Mama Viv and the crowd. I spotted Layla Zahran with several people from her legal team, observing this intently.

"Move out of the way, boy," Father said.

One of his errand boys began to recite that the Langley Corporation had the necessary documentation to begin the construction on this site and that everyone was a trespasser.

Roman laughed it off. "And I have three hundred people you'll have to drag out of here if you want to start the construction."

"Perhaps they will be more inclined to walk out if these good men just…widen the door," Father said, not bothering to conceal the threat.

"I really don't see that happening," Roman said. He hesitated, then took a couple of steps toward my father. "Mr. Langley, I would advise you not to force this any further. Walk away now, and you'll only face public embarrassment. But if you push this, you're going to lose a lot more than just your reputation."

Father's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger crossing his face. "You think you can threaten me, boy?"

Roman stood his ground, his voice steady. "It's not a threat, Mr. Langley. It's a promise. The moment you cross that line, everything you've tried to bury will come crashing down on you. Give it up, or I guarantee you'll regret it."

Father glanced at the bulldozers, then at the crowd behind Roman. His errand boy shuffled nervously, unsure of the next move.

Roman spread his arms and stepped back. "Look what you've done, Harold. Look how many people came to see you fail. Your whole life, you picked the smallest people, the least protected ones, to bully and intimidate and rip off. You've built your wealth by tearing away the heart and the soul of this city. Well, let me tell you this…" Photographers from the press snapped shots of Romen furiously as he turned around for everyone to see him. He was such a showman. The love I felt for him right now was infinite and ablaze, and there was more than a little arousal running through my body at the sight of his courage. "We are not small."

Cheers exploded behind Roman's back so abruptly that Father took a sudden step back toward the safety of his bulldozers.

Father's paralegal hurried away, a stack of papers shaking in his fist, and spoke to a member of law enforcement.

"This bar is awaiting a decision on awarding it a landmark status," Mama Viv said, joining Roman closer to the center of the empty space in the street, her voice ringing with a command that only naturally made leaders and the stars of a stage could produce. "For forty years, we have been the refuge for those who could find none in their homes."

"I've seen your stunts," Father spat. "Foreign royals have no business telling our free people what should and should not be done."

"Oh, my dear Mr. Langley," Mama Viv said mournfully. "If you think my doors are only open to those who don't touch our lives directly, you are sadly mistaken. My bar has been a safe space for four decades, giving birth to movements that saved countless lives when the government ignored us and when the public saw us as dirty and sick. If it were left to the likes of you, we would still be invisible."

Father crossed his arms, his face turning red. "You have your Stonewall, Mr. Sable. I won't be roped into this discussion any longer. This is your last warning before the officers start arresting you for trespassing."

I stepped away from the window.

Had I actually hoped it would all work out without me? Had I ever believed that I might have a chance to come out to my father in some safe space and on my terms? Had I thought I would get my fucking trust fund? No. I couldn't have been so stupid, could I?

I didn't need his money. Roman lived his life happily with never a spare dime, so why shouldn't I?

And there was no safe space for me to confront my father about my sexuality. The closest thing to safety was at Neon Nights, and this was likely the last time I would be in there if I didn't act.

Before my mind had even reached a conscious decision, my feet were shuffling down the stairs and carrying me through the packed bar. I strode heavily and deliberately through the open door.

The first who saw me were the two drag queens who performed on Mama Viv's stage every week, moving aside to let me through. Next, Tristan turned his head and looked into my eyes, regret and gratitude warring on his face. After him, Cedric saw me, stepping aside to let me pass.

As Mama Viv turned around to see what the movement was all about, so did Roman, and in doing that, they opened a clear field of vision between me and my father.

"Everett," Father said in genuine shock, almost like he found me playing in a nest of snakes. "What are you doing here?"

"They're right, Dad," I said. My voice wanted to be dull and hollow, but I forced myself to remain steady. Gasps spilled around as photographers turned their attention to me. "Do the right thing and let go. You can let go."

Father crossed the space between us in a fit of fury. I wasn't completely sure he would strike me down. And when he neared me, his tone dropped to a hiss. "What are you doing here, Everett?"

A quiver passed through my lower lip. "This place saved my life," I said. "When I had nobody else to talk to and nowhere else to turn, they were here for me."

"What are you talking about, Everett? Get away from them," he said quickly and quietly, like my friends carried some disease that was catching. "You making no sense."

"No, Dad," I said. "You're just refusing to see sense. I'm gay." The word erupted from me unprepared. It infuriated me that he needed me to spell it out for him. It enraged me that he was pretending not to understand. And when the words were over my lips, there was no power on Earth to suck them back and speak them in a more diplomatic way.

Why should I be diplomatic, dammit? I never chose to be born one way or the other. So why did I have to justify my existence to those who had created me in the first place? Why did I depend on someone accepting me or not? It wasn't fucking fair.

"Stop this, Everett," Father said, his eyes growing small and white. "You'll break your mother's heart."

"What about my heart?" I whispered.

"I won't let them turn my son against me," Father growled. "You'll stop acting like a petulant boy this instant and come away from them."

And that was the moment when I understood what it meant to have a family. I wasn't born into this band of colorful, beautiful, brave people, but they'd adopted me. When I refused to admit I was anything like them, they let me figure it out. And when I accepted myself, none made me feel like I needed to earn their acceptance as well.

The mother and father that had brought me to this world had done it vainly. To God's eternal glory or to feed their egos with an heir they could be proud of. But that was not the person they got, no matter how hard they tried to push me into the mold.

"I'm gay, Dad," I said again, much more comfortable with the words this time. "And if it weren't for Neon Nights, I would have gone mad. Or worse." I didn't want to think of all the mornings when getting out of bed was my biggest challenge and when the absence of consciousness in my sleep was my greatest joy. "I won't let you take this place down. By right, it's a landmark, and I'll see that it becomes one on paper no matter the cost."

Father's face reddened. He stepped back from me with dead eyes and flat eyebrows. "I have no son."

Oddly enough, I had played out this moment in my head in so many different ways that I was used to hearing those words. But when Roman's hand touched the small of my back and Mama Viv's rested on my shoulder in the next heartbeat, I was fine. I was absolutely fine.

I had never expected my father to see me and accept me.

"And you, Everett, don't have a say in these matters," Father declared as he took another step back.

Roman's hand moved gently along my lower back. "I'm so sorry, my love," he whispered.

I swallowed and inhaled a deep breath of air. The officers who were shown my father's paperwork were moving closer toward us, and the operators climbed back into their seats in the bulldozers. Now or never. And so I let my voice boom. "I have proof that Harold Langley has abused the eminent domain and manipulated evidence that favored his proposal. I have proof that he has collaborated with Robert Jacobs, who has a direct stake in my father's company. And I have witnessed the two men conspiring to produce false claims against the integrity of Neon Nights to fast-track its demolition," I declared, my voice steady but full of emotion.

The crowd murmured, sensing the weight of his words. Layla Zahran stepped forward, her eyes locked on Harold.

"You have no idea the trouble you've stepped into, Mr. Langley," Layla said coolly. "This is not just a legal matter anymore. It's a public scandal waiting to explode, and we have every intention of making sure it does."

Harold's face flushed with anger, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he looked around. The confidence that had once marked his every move seemed to waver.

"He has bribed, bullied, and forged his way to obtaining this permit, and I have recordings of the secret meetings between the two men," I said at last.

The officers halted, murmurs passing between them, and Layla Zahran quickly consulted with her team. In the moment of stunned silence, with Roman's hand rubbing the small of my back soothingly and Mama Viv holding me steady, I faced Harold Langley.

"Are you out of your mind, boy? You would betray your own family?" he demanded.

My throat tightened. My family? No. Never. "You said it yourself," I said. "I'm not your son."

The lieutenant, who had been issuing orders for her force to move in and prepare to disperse the crowd, quickly stepped in, crossing the ground and marching toward me. She had a hard, no-nonsense face when she walked up to us. "Mr. Langley, what nature of evidence do you possess to support these claims?"

"Audio recordings," I said. "They clearly show my father and Robert Jacobs from Urban Planning plotting to take over this place by any means necessary."

"If what you are saying is true, I will need you to hand over this evidence," the lieutenant said.

I produced my phone, and an officer scurried over to take it from me. "I have been present in my father's meetings. I can provide you with a detailed account of the dealings between them."

"You are willing to give a statement?" the lieutenant asked, and I confirmed.

Layla stepped in and said she would be present for that. It crossed my mind that I couldn't exactly lean on my family's legal team for any of it anymore. If she would represent me, I would rest a little more easily.

The lieutenant walked away to consult with some higher authority as my father stood in shock, looking around at the chaos that was erupting around us. The crowd booed him while others cheered me on, and two officers began collecting all the documents from my father's lawyers despite protests. Another officer stood beside my father, partly looking like he was a bodyguard, partly like he was on the verge of making an arrest.

Minutes passed, and each felt like a year.

My father, wearing his long coat and black gloves, turned left and right almost as if it were in slow motion. He was lost now. The twist of fate had caught him unexpectedly, only proving how comfortable he had been after getting away with this sort of thing for years.

When the lieutenant returned, she didn't come to me. Instead, she spoke to my father with cold distance and command in her tone. She offered him to accompany her to the precinct without any further drama. It was the friendliest offer he was going to get today.

A flurry of activity happened around the people on my father's team. They argued it out quickly, some advocating that Harold Langley had committed no crimes and was free to return to his office, while others urged him to give a statement at the precinct.

He measured these arguments with haziness in his eyes and confusion on his face. The minutes that had gone by had added ten years to his appearance. Not once did he look at me again. And when I thought he would pack up and go home, he nodded.

An arrangement was made quickly for police to escort his car to the precinct, and the remaining officers began to clear the area, directing the press and pedestrians to move off the street. The bulldozers were the last to leave, and only when they roared and pulled away did I realize my ears had been ringing and my face burning all this time.

I turned to Roman as Mama Viv and Layla Zahran pulled away from us.

"I told you I would love you after it was done," I said quietly, taking his hands in mine. "But I'm broke now. Homeless, I imagine. I have nothing to give you, Rome. I have nothing to offer, nothing to contribute."

Roman's expression softened from serious to slightly mischievous. "You're a drama queen, and it entertains me."

I chuckled, surprised to hear myself do it. "I'm not known for my sense of humor."

"No, but you're still all I want, Everett," Roman said softly. "And I love you more than I ever did."

I kissed him there in front of everyone, never once wondering if my father might have caught a glimpse of it from his car as it left in a column of police cars. I kissed Roman as deeply and freely as my heart desired. And I vowed to love him until my last breath.

Whatever came next, it was easier with Roman by my side.

And when we joined the elated crowd a few feet away, Mama Viv made a pointed remark that I would never be homeless on her watch.