Page 61 of What You Own
“Good.” He leaned up and brushed his lips over mine, and that kiss was exactly what I needed. “Let’s go do this. For Paige Center.”
“For the center.”
Adam
I’VEEXPERIENCEDa range of emotions in the seven weeks since Ryan came back into my life, emotions that ran the spectrum from sheer joy to utter terror. As we walked across the emptying lobby and through the rear auditorium doors, I felt a black rage unlike anything I could identify. It cohabitated with a calm peace that existed because Ryan had confided in me, and because nothing he could say to me would make me stop loving him.
The rage was directed squarely at my father and the lawyers who agreed to whatever deal he cooked up. A deal that allowed three high school jocks to get away with nearly killing us—and that allowed Chad to get away with putting his hands on my boyfriend. I loved and hated what Ryan had sacrificed for me. For all the grief I’d put him through these last few years, I didn’t feel worthy of his loyalty or love.
A small section of chairs near the stage left wall had been roped off for the performers. Because of the small wing space, singers went up in shifts and waited their turn. All of the adult performers and child-wranglers were already seated, and our generous guests were slowly settling into their rows of wooden folding chairs. Joe and my father had been given special seats in the front row, along with a few other deep-pocketed business owners who’d written big checks in exchange for their names and business ads in the back of the program where the auction basket contributors were listed.
Tommy stood on his chair and waved at Ryan, before his uncle pulled him down. I could have gotten along nicely not knowing where Bobby was. I still couldn’t wrap my head around that particular twist in the plot. The apology had been so sincere, and so unexpected, I’d wanted to accept. Now I was glad I hadn’t.
Lou stepped onstage with a microphone in his hand. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen of all ages and persuasions. My name is Lou Paige, and I’m the director here at the Paige Community Center. Welcome to our first ever Broadway Revue Fundraiser.” Applause made him pause and smile. “Thank you. This event would not have been made possible without the hard, fast work of our dedicated fundraiser committee, and if you’ll indulge me a moment, I’d love for them to join me onstage.”
My insides curled up, terrified of the idea. I’d sung in front of the other performers a few times, sure, but I hadn’t lost my stage fright. I still hadn’t actually performed in front of a neutral crowd. Ryan squeezed my hand, and then we followed Ellie, Larry, and Susan up onto the stage on a soft wave of applause.
“This revue was the brainchild of those two young folks, Miss Ellie Wright and Mr. Ryan Sanders,” Lou said. “And once they had Larry and Susan Bishop on board, I couldn’t say no to the idea. The lad on the end there, Mr. Adam Langley”—I blushed to the roots of my hair— “has been our liaison with Langley-Quartermaine Financial, which was generous enough to underwrite the cost of this evening’s festivities. So thank you very much for all of your hard work.”
I’d hoped the next round of clapping meant we could escape the spotlight. Ryan decided to lengthen my torture by asking Lou for the microphone.
Breathe. In. Out. Calm.
“Good evenin’,” Ryan said in a strong, calm voice I didn’t recognize. “I’m sure you’re all eager for the performin’ to start, but I really wanted to take a few minutes to tell you why you’re here tonight. This building you’re in? It’s not just a rec center for kids to hang at on weekends for free acting classes. There are a lotta kids in our community who have nowhere to go before and after school, except empty houses or the streets. There are a lotta kids in our community who don’t have someone to help with homework, to encourage them to do better in school, or to challenge them to try somethin’ new. The center gives those things to these kids.
“We have a lotta teenagers who come here too, for the same reasons. We aren’t blood, but we are a family of our own makin’, and we need your help to stay open.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been volunteering here since I was eighteen. I was goin’ through my own rough time back then, and bein’ here saved my life. It really did, in ways I can never explain.”
I held my entire body rigid so I didn’t reach for him—touch his arm, shoulder, elbow, anything to comfort him. I couldn’t do that while everyone was staring in our direction. I looked out above the sea of faces, unable to meet anyone’s eye.
“I know I’m not the only person the center has helped, and I won’t be the last. The adults who volunteer do it out of love. The kids come back because they feel safe and cared for. Please, help us keep these doors open. Our kids need your help. Thank you.”
He handed the mike back to Lou, and we trooped off the stage. After we sat back down, Ryan snagged my hand and held it between our seats. In the dark, I doubted anyone could see—and really? I didn’t care if they did.
The kids were fantastic. They made mistakes. They occasionally sang off-key, but they had fun. And the adults in the audience were having fun too, if their applause and laughter was any indication. Ryan’s Saturday class of teenagers finished off our first segment of performances with “Seasons of Love,” a cappella, and it was beautiful.
As the lights came up to half strength for intermission, my nerves jangled. A little over an hour until I did something I should have been brave enough to do years ago—public performance in front of a live audience.
“You want somethin’ to drink?” Ryan asked.
“Please.”
I stayed put like a chicken, while Ryan braved the throng. I watched him, chatting and shaking hands, until he disappeared. My chair wouldn’t seem to let go of my ass, even though I should be out there, doing my part to chat with local newspaper reporters and add more zeroes to those donation checks. Staying in our section felt safer. Besides, my father was out there somewhere, and I was still too angry with him to risk getting within punching distance.
The last thing our fundraiser needed was extra media coverage because of a father-son brawl. Then again, “Wealthy Father Disowns Gay Son During Benefit to Support Local Nonprofit Community Center” would get attention on our situation.
The silent auction winners were announced. The ten-minute warning bell clanged over the loudspeaker. The majority of the kids were herded off to one of the classrooms for the rest of the evening. We’d ordered a special “thank you” cake for the kids, its top covered in edible photos taken of them during the last few rehearsals. I finally pried my ass off my chair and slipped backstage.
Ryan and Ellie joined me a few minutes later. I sipped at the bottle of room-temperature water Ryan brought for me—cold water was bad for your vocal chords.
“How are you?” Ryan asked.
“Terrified. You?”
“You’ll be great.”
He shrugged out of his suit coat and into the leather jacket he’d brought for his costume. Ellie handed me the flowy top she’d worn over her body-hugging dress, then fluffed out her hair. I watched from the wings as they did their number, each note perfect. The audience laughed and tittered in the right spots, understanding that the entire song was a flirtation between the two characters.
Ryan came offstage grinning, his cheeks flushed and eyes dancing with joy. Performing loved him, and he loved it, and I loved seeing him so happy. In the darkness of the wings, he kissed me soundly, and my heart beat hard with something besides nervousness.
