Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

T ristan had done a lot of crazy things as a Bad Boyfriend, but sprawling across his father's lap and calling him "Daddy"—something which had been a lot more wholesome when he'd last done it at around age five—was probably one of the craziest. How the hell hadn't he put it together that this was one of Lillian Kingsbury's events? Of course his dad would be here for that. Luckily, a lifetime of raising Tristan had given Steven Montague the patience of a saint and the sangfroid of a—well, a saint meeting a particularly gruesome end. So when Tristan had flung himself at him, he'd just rolled with it.

His dad really was cool. Tristan had always known that, but seeing Leo's parents certainly brought it into sharp relief.

Up on the stage usually reserved for debutantes and charity auctions, a man tapped the microphone, drawing attention away from the drama happening at their table. Even Mrs. Fisher sank back into her seat, looking fraught and harried. Mr. Fisher waved his hand at a waiter for more booze. Tristan liked him the most, but it wasn't as though he had a high bar to clear to be Leo's nicer parent. And liking him the most didn't mean he liked him much at all. He hadn't exactly stood up for Leo, had he?

"Ladies and gentlemen," the emcee said, his gaze landing on Tristan, "and ladies. Um, we do hope that you're enjoying your dinner. All locally sourced, of course. And we also hope that you're feeling generous with your chequebooks tonight."

He paused for the expected tittering that filled the room.

"And now, please welcome tonight's guest of honour, a lady who needs no introduction to the party faithful—Lillian Kingsbury."

Leo's mother clapped a little too hard, then stopped abruptly as though she'd suddenly remembered she didn't want to draw attention to their table. Leo's dad downed his third, or maybe fourth, flute of champagne. Tristan's dad inclined his head at the woman walking out on stage.

"It's Lillian! " Mrs. Fisher exclaimed, sitting up straighter, like the teacher's pet when the teacher walked in. "Lillian Kingsbury!"

As though the whole room didn't know it. As though the emcee hadn't just said it. As though she wasn't one of the most recognisable faces in state politics.

Lillian Kingsbury was one of those women who was clearly unapologetic about getting older. She wore her grey hair like a battle helmet, except it was more nicely styled in a sensible bob that, with just a little bit of product, Tristan was sure could be fun and funky. Like every other woman here—and Tristan—she was wearing a ball gown, but she was wearing it like she was one of Charlie's Angels infiltrating an awards show, where if terrorists suddenly attacked, she'd knock over a table for cover, hitch up her satiny skirt, reveal her sidearm in a thigh holster and save everyone present. Yes, Tristan had recently rewatched the Charlie's Angels movies with Leo, but he also had a lot of love for badass female characters in general .

"Good evening," Lillian Kingsbury said. "What a wonderful turnout. It's good to see so many faces, both old and new, turning out to support the party." Some wag at the other end of the room called something out. Tristan didn't hear him, but Lillian laughed. "Yes, Malcolm, some of us are older than others!"

She was quick, funny and sharp, and Mrs. Fisher clasped her hands together like she was having a religious experience.

Tristan didn't really understand how. Politics was so boring , and he'd been dragged to too many of these things over the years so that, if they'd ever had any shine, they'd lost it ages ago. Really, the only redeeming feature was the free champagne and decent food.

He reached over and helped himself to a salmon and cucumber canapé from his dad's plate. Making eye contact with Mrs. Fisher and holding it, he poked his tongue out and slid the cracker onto his tongue like a communion wafer, then made a show of chewing and swallowing. "I do love cucumbers," he said. "Sometimes I even like them as food."

Leo made a choked-off sound, and Kev didn't even bother to hide his amusement, laughing loudly. Mrs. Fisher blinked, then, in an obvious desperate attempt to draw attention away from Tristan, said in a slightly too-loud voice, "I've spoken to her, you know. Lillian Kingsbury, that is. In person ."

"Oh, really?" Steve said.

"Yes," Mrs. Fisher gushed. "I called her office to see about getting an extra ticket for Leo's plus one"—her nose wrinkled in distaste—"and she answered the phone herself." She addressed Tristan. "So really, you have Lillian Kingsbury to thank for being here at all. "

"I have to thank Lillian Kingsbury for being here?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. "Well, I suppose you're right, so I'll be sure to do that."

His dad laughed.

"Mum," Leo said. "Can you…?" He made a face. "Can you calm down?"

It didn't work. It had the opposite effect. Mrs. Fisher glared at him, then at Tristan, and her face turned a very unhealthy shade of pink. "You want me to calm down? You're the one ruining everything, Leo! You and your disreputable… friend . People are looking at us! I don't know what your father and I have done to deserve this!"

Tristan rolled his eyes and sighed. He leaned towards his father and said in an undertone, "How much midazolam do you think it would take to sedate her?"

His father hummed thoughtfully before murmuring, "Are you going to ask her how much she weighs?"

Leo tensed beneath Tristan's thighs. "Are you—? I mean, how do—? You know what? I'm afraid to ask how you know how much it takes to sedate an adult."

Tristan flashed him a bright smile. "I need to know, babe. It's part of my job. Or, it will be."

Leo looked even more confused. "And how—how do you know Steve?"

"He's going to be my boss, eventually. I still have to do a year's general surgical rotation, but after that the plan is for me to join the practice."

"For my sins," his dad said, and slapped his hand away before he could steal another canapé. "Stop it. You know the food is the only reason I'm here."

"The food and the fact you have a crush on the speaker," Tristan teased .

"Will you stop it!" Mrs. Fisher hissed across the table. " Lillian is speaking!"

"Oh," Dad said with a smile, "you hear one of her speeches, and you've heard them all."

Leo was staring between them, looking like someone had slapped him upside the head with a four by two. "You're…a dentist? "

"He's a disgrace is what he is!" Mrs. Fisher snapped.

"Excuse you," Tristan said, loudly. Loudly enough that people at the other tables were looking at them again. Even Lillian Kingsbury stopped speaking. "I might be a fucking disgrace"—he winked at Leo—"but also, babe, I'm not a dentist. Once I graduate, I'll be an oral and maxillofacial surgeon."

Leo blinked. "Is that not the same as a dentist?"

It was Dad's turn to glare. "No, it bloody well isn't."

"Please, just leave," Mrs. Fisher said. "I don't care who you are or what you are. Please go!"

A posse of nervous waiters was heading for their table.

"You do care," Leo said. "You care too much about things that don't matter! You're so sold on the idea that I have to be the ‘right' sort of gay—whatever that is—that you don't care about what I want or who I am!"

"Son," Leo's father interrupted, "you have to understand, it's all about the optics. We can't be seen to have a son who associates with someone like"—he pointed at Tristan—"well, that ."

Leo stood and threw his linen napkin down on the table. "I don't give a fuck about the optics!" he yelled.

The room went silent.

"Hello," Lillian Kingsbury said from the stage. "Is there a problem? We're not at the social policy part of this speech yet, but you know what? It's never a bad idea to circle around to that more than once."

Mrs. Fisher froze.

Lillian Kingsbury's smile could have cut glass. "We support families, and families come in all different shapes and sizes. When I got married, there was still an expectation that a woman stayed home and supported her husband's career, and she took his name. She certainly didn't go off and make a name for herself in politics. Apparently, it didn't look good. What do they call it nowadays? ‘The optics.' Now, if I'd followed all those rules, I wouldn't be here tonight, but luckily, I married a man who was nothing but encouraging. For those of you who don't know, my husband, Dr. Steven Montague, has been my greatest supporter. Followed closely by my son. They're both here tonight. Steve, wave."

Dad grinned and waved.

Mrs. Fisher let out a shocked gasp.

"And Tristan, I'd say wave, but you look so fetching in that gown, why don't you give us a spin instead?"

Tristan winked at Mrs. Fisher, who was still frozen in place, stood and gave a twirl followed by a curtsy, quietly glad Miss O'Jenny had coached him in that particular move, because it wasn't as easy as it looked, not in heels.

"Isn't he gorgeous?" Lillian asked the crowd. "Smart, too. Top of all his classes, on the Dean's List for six years running, and in a few months, he'll be the second doctor in the family." She smiled proudly. "Sorry, gentlemen, he's already taken. Now, if we can get back on track…"

Tristan sat down again, grinning at Leo. "I honestly didn't put two and two together until we got here or I would have told you."

Leo's jaw was on the floor.

"Are you pissed off?" Tristan asked him.

Leo seemed to shake himself awake, then, laughing, pulled Tristan forward for a kiss.

Not pissed off, then.

Tristan dragged his fingers through Leo's hair and kissed him so thoroughly that the rest of the room vanished, and he was only vaguely aware of Mr. and Mrs. Fisher scuttling away in shame.

Good riddance.

"This is the first Bad Boyfriend date I've had where I wasn't the one who left," Tristan said an hour later, nursing a glass of something sparkling as he and Leo leaned on the balcony railing and gazed out over the harbour. "Or, well, was kicked out."

Leo smiled softly at him.

"Are you okay?" Tristan asked. "That was a pretty big deal in there. What happened with your parents, I mean. And what you said. You were incredible."

"For finally remembering I had balls?"

"I've always known you had balls," Tristan said. "I love your balls. But yeah, for standing up to them like that loudly and in public."

Leo drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You know what? I am fine. I think the most surprising thing tonight is finding out you're a dentist."

"Um, I'm not a dentist, but okay."

"Maxi oral surgeon?"

"Close enough. As long as you remember the oral part."

"It's hard to forget where you're involved," Leo said, grinning. "It's just such a trip to think you've been studying something so…sensible all this time, and I never even thought to ask."

"Well, what did you think I'd been doing at uni for the past seven years?"

Leo ducked his head. "Um, honestly? I just assumed you'd been dicking about, taking one of those pointless degrees so you didn't have to get a real job. I mean, you never actually said what you were studying."

"Rude, but still a step up from your initial assessment of me as a rent boy. And I didn't mention it because when you're trying to seduce someone, talking about impacted wisdom teeth is a real mood killer."

Leo laughed.

Tristan reached over and ran his fingers through his hair. "I still maintain your parents' greatest crime, apart from being arseholes, was having someone with gorgeous curls like yours and not teaching you how to look after them."

Leo tilted his head back, leaning into the touch like a particularly affectionate cat.

The doors leading to the ballroom opened.

"Here they are!" Mum exclaimed, trailing Dad and Kev behind her. She strode up to them and folded her arms. "So that's what you do to make your pocket money?"

"I'm twenty-eight, Mum," Tristan said. "We don't call it pocket money. We call it fun money. But yeah, that's what I do."

"Still got that lawyer's card I gave you?" Dad asked.

"Yes, but I haven't needed it yet."

"Leo, it's so nice to meet you," Mum said. "Welcome to the circus, I guess."

"Well, that's what you get for dating a clown," Dad said.

Tristan rolled his eyes. "I'm more of a lion tamer."

Dad snorted. "Whatever you say, son. "

"Oh, wait, no. Contortionist ."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Kingsbury," Leo said. He bit his bottom lip. "I'm sorry about my parents. They were incredibly rude."

Mum flapped a hand. "Call me Lillian. And don't worry about it. Honestly, your mother's been practically stalking my office trying to get your father on the card for pre-selection. She doesn't take no for an answer, does she?"

"She really doesn't," Leo agreed.

"I suppose one upside of tonight is that at least I don't have to tell your father he's not going to be the new candidate. He never was, really."

"Oh?" Tristan asked. "I thought it was in the bag?"

"Oh, no." Lillian laughed. "Kev's got much stronger ties to the community, and he's a lot more progressive on social issues. Have you two met before?"

"No," Tristan said.

"Yes," Kev said.

Tristan blinked. "Sorry?"

Kev let out a tinkling laugh that was startling in its familiarity. "Don't play coy, Cinderella. And you totally fucked up that curtsy, by the way."

"Holy shit . Miss O'Jenny?" He never would have recognised her out of drag. Well, he'd just sat across from her for an entire meal, and apart from thinking that middle-aged guy looked vaguely familiar in some way, the penny had never dropped. "You're so much shorter without your hair!"

"If you have any opinions on my daytime persona, keep them to yourself." Kev arched an eyebrow, but somehow it wasn't nearly as menacing as usual— possibly due to the lack of glitter eyeshadow.

"Wait," Leo said. "You're Miss O'Jenny? I'm so confused right now. You're not a dentist as well, are you? "

Kev laughed. "No, sweetheart. I'm an accountant. Actually, I've been trying to catch up with you over Jimmy's financials, but we seem to keep missing each other."

Leo's mouth dropped open. " You're Kevin O'Brien?"

"Of course, darling," Kev said. "Who else would Jimmy have trusted to look after his accounts? You know, I tried to convince him computerised records were safe since the nineties, but he didn't trust any numbers he couldn't see in a book. He thought digital records weren't real. Don't even get me started on his opinions on stocks. Anyway, I digitised it all regardless, and I've got records of everything, so I can email them to you whenever you want, though it'd be much more fun to go somewhere fancy, call it a business lunch, and we can both claim it on our taxes, hmm? I know a place in North Bondi that does amazing brunches."

"Can I come?" Tristan asked. "I'd be prepared to get out of bed for a good brunch." Which really, he thought was very selfless of him, given how he felt about being awake before noon.

"Of course, darling," Kev said. He looked Tristan up and down critically. "You can come and return that gown, once you've had that sauce stain dry-cleaned."

Tristan glanced down at himself and saw that Kev was right. He'd somehow managed to get a smear of something on the scooped neckline. He shrugged. "It's not the first time I've ended up messy after a date."

"Oh, honey, same," Kev said. "And in that exact dress. Well, twenty years ago when I could still fit into it, that is."

"You still look stunning," Tristan said, because he wasn't stupid.

Kev blew him a kiss.

"Anyway," Dad said. "It looks like the glad-handing and schmoozing part of the evening is done, and I've convinced the staff to put someone's nineties playlist on, so your mother and I are going back inside so I can impress her with my smooth dance-floor moves."

"You don't have any smooth dance-floor moves," Tristan said.

"I think I still remember the Macarena ."

"I rest my case." Tristan turned to Leo. "I, on the other hand, have very smooth moves. Wanna see?"

Leo gave him a soft smile. "Yeah. I'd like that."

Tristan beamed, then bent down and tugged off the heels he'd borrowed from Miss O'Jenny. Fuck dancing in those things—walking was enough of a challenge—then he took Leo's hand and led him inside.

They joined Mum and Dad and a handful of other couples on the dance floor. Tristan cringed at his Dad's rendition of yes, the Macarena —seriously, who the hell had that on their playlist?—before showing him how it was actually done. Leo laughed and joined in before a slower song started. Tristan wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close for a proper dance. They swayed in time to the music, and Leo was warm and solid against him. His eyes sparkled, his hair was a mess of soft curls and he was gorgeous.

Tristan loved him, and he couldn't keep the words in, not for anything.

"I love you, Leo Fisher."

Leo stilled in his movements. For a moment Tristan was afraid that he'd fucked it up, that Leo didn't feel the same, then Leo reached up and pushed a tendril of hair behind Tristan's ear, smiled and said, "Thank fuck you said it first. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold out."

Tristan let out a breath. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Leo leaned in and kissed him then, and it was the most perfect kiss Tristan had ever had. Maybe that's what love did, he reflected. It took what was good and made it perfect.

When they finally parted, Leo said, softly, "We're going to finish this dance, then we're going to go back to our place and I'm going to ravish you like I promised. Because I love you, Tristan Montague, but also, you're hotter than hell in that dress, and I can't wait to peel you out of it."

Tristan's smile widened. He loved Leo, and Leo loved him back.

He didn't dance after that. He floated.