Truth and Beauty

By Cassidy Ryan

Nobody ever said love was easy. He's finally found his soul mate, but if they're to have their happy ever after they'll need to survive family disapproval, tragedy and blackmail.

Damian is staring down the barrel of thirty-five with three ex-wives and countless lovers behind him, an uncertain future ahead and a feeling that something is missing.

A visit from his best friend Alex is just what he needs. But Alex, just returned from a stint in Africa with an aid agency, is traumatised by his experience, suffering flashbacks and nightmares. When he finds out what happened to Alex, something he doesn't quite understand shifts in Damian. It takes the intervention of his first ex-wife to make Damian realise that not only does he have deeper feelings for Alex, but Alex hasn't been completely honest with him about his own feelings.

Damian's father is less than pleased with the new, improved relationship, and threatens to disown Damian unless he ends it. But Damian has finally found his path and will not be bullied by a father who has been trying to control him his whole life. He and Alex leave together for London and a new life.

However, a family tragedy soon brings Damian home and he is faced with another sea change. Alex is right there at his side to offer support and love, as always, but Damian's father's continued interference threatens the life they are trying to build together. He must find a way to deal with his father once and for all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Apr 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9780857159489

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A Total-E-Bound Publication

www.total-e-bound.com

Truth and Beauty

ISBN # 978-0-85715-948-9

©Copyright Cassidy Ryan 2012

Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright April 2012

Edited by Laura Hulley

Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

Warning:

This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 1.

This story contains 168 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 8 pages.

TRUTH AND BEAUTY

Cassidy Ryan

Nobody ever said love was easy. He’s finally found his soulmate, but if they’re to have their happy ever after they’ll need to survive family disapproval, tragedy and blackmail.

Damian is staring down the barrel of thirty-five with three ex-wives and countless lovers behind him, an uncertain future ahead and a feeling that something is missing.

A visit from his best friend, Alex, is just what he needs. But Alex, just returned from a stint in Africa with an aid agency, is traumatised by his experience, suffering flashbacks and nightmares. When he finds out what happened to Alex, something he doesn’t quite understand shifts in Damian. It takes the intervention of his first ex-wife to make Damian realise that not only does he have deeper feelings for Alex, but also that Alex hasn’t been completely honest with him about his own feelings.

Damian’s father is less than pleased with the new, improved relationship, and threatens to disown Damian unless he ends it. But Damian has finally found his path and will not be bullied by a father who has been trying to control him his whole life. He and Alex leave together for London and a new life.

However, a family tragedy soon brings Damian home and he is faced with another sea change. Alex is right there at his side to offer support and love, as always, but Damian’s father’s continued interference threatens the life they are trying to build together. He must find a way to deal with his father once and for all.

Dedication

For my wonderful beta readers, Josie and Janalyn;

your honesty and encouragement kept me going.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Montblanc: Compagnie Financière Richemont S.A.

Dior: Christian Dior S.A.

Vogue: Condé Nast

Pentax: Hoya Corporation

Aga: Aga Rangemaster Group plc

Range Rover: Jaguar Land Rover

Playgirl: Playgirl, Inc.

Cosmo: Hearst Corporation

Saab: Swedish Automobile NV

KY Jelly: Johnson & Johnson

Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation

Witchy Woman: The Eagles (Don Henley, Bernie Leadon)

Doctor Who: BBC

The Hobbit: J.R.R. Tolkien

Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death: Kurt Vonnegut

Donna Karan: LVMH Moët Hennessy—Louis Vuitton S.A.

Rolls Royce Phantom: Rolls Royce Motor Cars; BMW

Bollinger: Société Jacques Bollinger S.A.

Summertime: George Gershwin, DuBose Heyward

Mad About the Boy: Noël Coward

Stormy Weather: Harold Arlen; Ted Koehler

Ridin’ on the Moon: Harold Arlen, Johnny Mercer

Just One of Those Things: Cole Porter

Mercedes-Benz: Daimler AG

Formica: Formica Corporation

Rebecca: Daphne du Maurier

Who’s Who: A&C Black

Chapter One

In the space of half a heartbeat, Alex Jennings went from sound asleep to wide awake, eyes darting around the room, hands clutching at the bed as a sound like the loudest thunder he had ever heard rumbled through the house. The glass light fixture over the bed rattled and the pile of coins he’d stacked on the bedside table the night before tipped over, spilling over the table and onto the hardwood floor.

When the shock of his rude awakening started to subside, and his heart rate had returned to something resembling normal, a scowl pulled Alex’s eyebrows together. Pushing the covers aside, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, got to his feet and moved quickly over the cool floor out into the hallway and down the stairs, cursing darkly under his breath.

The rumbling—banging—got louder as he approached his father’s office at the back of the house, and just as Alex shoved the door open there was an ear-splitting crash. Dear God, he felt like he had been on a three-day bender. He had to get a place of his own soon. It was fast becoming clear to him that living with one’s parents when one was over thirty was nothing less than a shortcut to the mad house.

Dad? When there was no response, Alex cursed again and reluctantly moved further into the room. Dad!

Seated behind the drum kit, Robert Jennings was grinning like a loon, sweat dampening his thinning, sandy blond hair, arms flailing like he was having some kind of seizure. Robert’s body jolted every time one of the sticks in his hands made contact with the drums, and when the cymbals made another discordant, screaming crash, a small grunt of pleasure that was—to Alex at least—quite disturbing, escaped his dad.

Alex moved to stand right in front of the drums, grimacing at the way the floor trembled under his feet and the noise reverberated through him. He could practically feel it bouncing off his bones and liquidising his organs.

Dad! Even at the top of his voice, Alex could barely hear himself over the cacophony, but his dad finally opened his eyes and, after taking a moment to focus, his grin became even wider.

Alex! What do you think? Sounding good, right? Robert made no move to stop, but actually seemed to pick up the tempo.

Fearing for his long-term hearing, Alex made a slicing motion with his hand across his throat. Robert stopped drumming so suddenly that the silence nearly knocked Alex on to his backside.

Something I can do for you, son? Robert’s hands were still moving, tapping the drumsticks together almost absently, as if he’d forgotten how to remain still.

"Dad, it’s barely eight o’clock in the morning. Do you have to do that right now?" Alex’s ears were throbbing like he’d spent a night clubbing.

I’ve got to practice. Robert Jennings, sixty-two-year-old former dentist, sounded like a sullen teenager.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Alex stared incredulously at the man who had once been so…sane. For what, Dad? Are The Who holding auditions?

Dude, you’re harshing my buzz. Robert spun one of the drumsticks between his fingers in a way that, if Alex hadn’t been so dumbfounded, he would probably have found pretty impressive.

As it was, his jaw dropped and he sputtered, sounding like he was being strangled. "Harshing…what? Dude? What the fu…" He managed to cut off the curse before it fully formed, because, even though the man across from him was acting like someone Alex would cross the street to avoid, he was still his dad.

Don’t the neighbours ever complain? When he was a child growing up on this street, all it had taken for the residents to work up a head of steam was a boisterous game of hide and seek. Alex found it incredible that they weren’t threatening his dad with legal action at least for the seismic racket that must be emanating from the house.

Robert shook his head, and, grin returning, executed a drum roll that Alex felt in his teeth.

These old houses are pretty solid, and, even if they weren’t, everyone around here will be on their way to work by now. He was practically glowing with the smug satisfaction of the recently retired.

Alex shook his head and turned towards the door. Can you just…try not to bring the house down? He pulled the door closed behind him and got two steps down the hall before the floor started to rumble under his feet again. Knowing that there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to get any more sleep, Alex headed to the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

As the percolator dripped and gurgled, he went to stand in front of the window and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Out in the back garden his mother was scattering some kind of grain for the chickens pecking at her feet. Chickens. Alex shook his head again. Was it even legal to keep livestock in residential London? The neighbours must think his parents had both gone stark raving bonkers.

Turning away to take a mug from the cupboard, Alex picked up the phone when it rang and tucked it between his ear and shoulder as he poured his coffee.

Hello?

Jennings, you bastard. I know where you are.

Laughter bubbled up in Alex and a wide smile curled his mouth. Damian! How the hell are you? He added sugar to his coffee and took the mug over to sit at the table.

I’m pissed off with you, is how I am. You’ve been back nearly a month and I had to find out from that arsehole Andy Rowan! Damian Stanhope didn’t sound pissed off—Alex could hear the smile in his best friend’s voice.

Sorry, man, I was going to call you when I got my head on straight. The only reason Andy Rowan knows I’m back is because my mum’s friends with his mum. Alex sipped on his coffee, slouching back with a soft sigh when his dad took a break from the drumming. He didn’t add that he just hadn’t been fit for company, and had been virtually a hermit since stepping over his parents’ threshold.

So, how was Africa? Damian’s voice sounded a little rough, like he’d only recently woken up himself.

Alex caught a glimpse of his mum outside, laughing as she dodged the chickens, and thought about his dad’s manic expression as he beat out his dissonant rhythm.

Sane, he replied, taking another sip of his coffee. Mostly, an inner voice supplied, but Alex slammed the door on it.

Sane? Okay. I expected life-altering, enlightening, or even just hot, but I suppose sane is good. Alex couldn’t help laughing at the confusion in his friend’s voice.

He hooked his foot around the leg of another chair and dragged it out so that he could prop his feet up on it. It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, I’m staying with my folks and they’re a little…changed since I went away.

Changed? You mean physically, like surgically? Or changed like the pod people in that film? Because, you know, I’ve suspected for a few years now that my father might be a pod person. In his mind, Alex could picture the amusement lighting Damian’s blue eyes, and for a second he really wanted to see his friend.

Alex laughed and warmth bloomed in him. Actually, I wouldn’t rule out the pod people theory. You know they both took early retirement? Well, Dad has taken up the drums—he looks like a demented octopus and sounds like he’s rolling an oil drum full of bricks down a hill.

The sound of Damian’s laughter stirred something inside Alex, something long dormant. Something that could not be allowed to re-awaken.

Quickly shaking it off before it had time to take hold, Alex continued. "You can laugh—you don’t have to live with it. And as for Mum, she’s gone all born-again hippy. She thinks they need to be more ecological or self-sufficient or some shit, and is growing things in the garden and raising chickens."

Damian snorted loudly. "Things?"

There’s something that looks a bit like carrots—twisted, mutant carrots—there might be tomatoes and I’m pretty sure she’s got a few marijuana plants in the greenhouse, but it could be parsley. Alex got to his feet and went back to the coffee pot to refill his mug.

Sounds like you’re having a blast. Damian was clearly enjoying Alex’s misfortunes.

Alex grinned. It’s a laugh a minute. So, what about you? What have you been up to?

There was a long silence, and, when he finally replied, Damian’s voice was low, tired sounding. Oh, you know, the usual—working, travelling for work, getting divorced.

In the process of lifting his mug, Alex set it back down on the worktop with a thunk that sent hot liquid sloshing over the rim. He pulled his hand back just in time to avoid getting burnt.

"Divorced? Again? Damn, this is becoming a habit with you. You’ve barely been married two years this time. Isn’t the third time supposed to be lucky or a charm or something?" Absently tearing some paper towel off the roll, Alex cleaned up his mess and leant back against the worktop.

Damian moaned, and Alex could picture him dragging his hand through his dark blond hair, a sheepish expression on his face.

Shannon was a mistake from the start. Why didn’t you warn me she was a manipulative, money-grabbing she-demon? There was no heat in Damian’s demand.

How the hell should I have known what she was like when you didn’t? Okay, he hadn’t liked Shannon all that much, but he hadn’t been particularly keen on Gayle either, and Imogen had only grown on him after the divorce. Alex had always attributed his indifference to Damian’s wives to his own feelings for his friend. Feelings that were kept locked tightly away, and were never ever to be spoken of.

Aren’t you supposed to be in touch with your feminine side or something? Amusement was evident in Damian’s voice.

Alex bit back his own smile. You do understand that I’m gay and not actually a woman, right?

Okay, princess, don’t get your knickers in a twist. Damian was clearly having difficulty containing his laughter, as little snorts and snickers leaked out.

Are you trying to get your arse kicked, Stanhope? Picking up his mug, Alex went back to sit at the table.

Damian made a pfft sound. Yeah, yeah, you can try when you get here, Doc.

Surprised, Alex’s eyebrows lifted and the mug halted halfway to his mouth. When I get there?

We’re having a bit of a bash at the weekend. You should come, it’ll be fun. Pleasure swelled in Alex at the eagerness in his friend’s voice, and acceptance was almost automatic. But another glimpse of his mum in the garden stayed his reply.

I should probably stick around here for a while, spend some time with my folks, you know? He felt a small stab of guilt at the knowledge that he would rather be with Damian than his own parents.

Damian paused long enough for Alex to feel his friend’s disappointment. Uh, sure, of course. But we’ll get together soon, yes?

Oh yeah, definitely. Soon. Feeling suddenly deflated, Alex ended the call and slumped in his chair.

He looked up when the back door opened and his mum came in, bringing with her a blast of cool air. Alex shivered and wished he was wearing more than just his boxers.

Good morning, love. You’re up early. Beth dropped a kiss on his temple and went to the sink to wash her hands. So, I was thinking about getting a goat. I hear goat’s milk is very good for the skin. I’m going to speak to the man at the city zoo about it. He has a single gay son too, she added, with what he assumed was an attempt at casual.

A slow-building rumble from the direction of the office made Alex flinch. He set his mug down on the table and got to his feet.

Mum, I’m going to head up to Damian’s place for a while. You don’t mind, do you? Okay, great. He left the kitchen before his mum could argue, and headed up stairs that trembled unsettlingly under his feet as his dad built to an earthquake-inducing crescendo.

Chapter Two

Making no attempt to stifle a jaw-cracking yawn, Damian stumbled down the stairs, scratching his stomach and rubbing his stubble-roughened jaw in what he considered to be a show of remarkable coordination, given that he couldn’t quite manage to force his eyes all the way open. At the bottom of the stairs he winced when he moved from thick, soft carpet on to cool, hardwood floor, bare toes curling involuntarily.

Well, if it isn’t Little Mary Sunshine.

Damian cocked his head to the side, peered out of eyes that were puffy and gritty from lack of sleep, and his mouth lifted in an automatic smile.

Martha, you’re a sight for sore eyes. He crossed the wide hallway in four long strides and caught the diminutive woman in a hug that had her laughing and gasping for breath.

Put me down, you big gorilla! Martha swatted ineffectually at his shoulders, blue eyes warm and fond, and Damian laughed, setting her on her feet. She had to crane her neck to look up at him, and, when she did, a frown drew her eyebrows together.

"Tired eyes is more like it. You look fit to drop, sweetie."

Damian’s heart warmed at her overt concern. Martha Martin had been the family’s cook since Damian was a child, and had been a very dear friend to his mother. Growing up, Damian had spent a lot of time in the company of the two women, and had come to think of Martha as something of a surrogate mother.

Don’t worry, Ma, I’m just a bit tired. He looked around him, then added in a conspiratorial tone, I’ve been spending most of my time at the office so Naomi can’t drag me into helping with the plans for her big shindig. Nothing wrong with me that a cup of strong coffee and some scrambled eggs won’t fix. He winked and gave her his sweetest smile.

Martha sighed. Party, party, party, that’s all I’ve heard for weeks. I tell you, I’ll be glad when the whole thing is over.

You and me both, Ma, you and me both. They in there? He tilted his head towards the nearest door.

Patting his arm, Martha nodded. You go on through, love, I’ll bring you some breakfast. Would you like some toast with your eggs?

Thanks, Ma. Damian smiled, but it twisted into another yawn as he opened the door to the morning room and entered.

Sunshine filled the room, casting a warm glow, and a soft breeze drifted in through the open French windows. Later in the summer they would probably take breakfast on the flagstone