The Other Boyfriend

By Darien Cox

A year ago, Jonas was swept off his feet by his handsome older boyfriend, business owner Richard Taft—a virtual prince charming with a big house on the lake, multiple restaurant franchises, and who only has eyes for Jonas. Everything should be perfect.

Except for Jonas's nemesis: Lee Cross.

Since their boyfriends are brothers, Jonas and Lee spend a lot of time together. But Lee never misses an opportunity to taunt and humiliate Jonas with a passionate hatred that seems to have no cause. When their holiday plans are abruptly canceled due to the brothers leaving on a work emergency, Jonas snatches the opportunity to at last confront the man who has been making his life hell, determined one way or another to get to the bottom of it.

But the truth reveals a far greater mystery than why Lee doesn't like him. And that Lee might not be his nemesis after all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darien Cox
• Release date: Dec 18, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005251772

Darien Cox

Author Darien Cox lives in New England and enjoys using romantic fiction to explore the intensity, insanity, humor, and chaos that accompanies cupid’s arrow. http://dariencox.com/

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The Other Boyfriend

By Darien Cox

The Other Boyfriend Copyright © 2021 by Darien Cox

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Cover Art © 2021 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Chapter One

Jonas

There are few things more awkward than being a plus-one at someone else’s company holiday party. But for me there was something far worse, and that was being seated next to Lee Cross, who hated me. Lee and I were always seated together at events because our boyfriends, Richard and Rory, were brothers. Most people assumed, understandably, that Lee and I were friends. But we weren’t. We faked it when we had to, but we most definitely were not friends.

No one else realized this. I tried once to tell Richard that Lee was a prick to me all the time, but he found it hard to believe. Of course he did, because Lee was aggressively charming to everyone else. The conversation ended with Richard patting my shoulder and asking, Please make an effort for Rory’s sake? Apparently I was the one being difficult.

I didn’t harp on it. Didn’t even mention it again, though the shit from Lee was ongoing. I could’ve just confronted the bastard, but I’m stubborn and proud. I didn’t want Lee Cross to think I cared. Ignoring his hostility was the only choice in which my dignity remained intact, because confronting him confirmed he’d gotten under my skin. And I refused to give him the satisfaction.

Also, while Richard was twenty years older than me, I was still a grown-ass man and didn’t want him to see me constantly complaining that his brother’s boyfriend was being mean to me. But Lee was mean whenever he got the chance. He’d usually do it in front of people, the brazen blond fucker. He was slick about it, underhanded, his attacks calculated so I’d look paranoid or sensitive if I said anything.

But his nonsense also happened when others weren’t around, and those times were far less subtle, and frankly, more hurtful. If the two of us were left alone in a room, Lee would ignore me. Completely. Even if I asked him a direct question. He’d just pretend I wasn’t there, like I was a ghost he couldn’t see or hear. The message was clear. You are nothing to me. Immaterial. Insignificant. As soon as Richard or Rory would reappear, Lee would once again include me in conversation, smiling easily like nothing was amiss.

When he wasn’t ignoring me, he’d make comments insinuating I was only dating Richard for his money. Which had no basis in reality. I’m an accountant and not exactly wealthy, but I do okay and don’t give a damn about Richard’s money.

Lee dug an elbow into my ribs, as he reached awkwardly for the breadsticks.

"Excuse me, I snapped, but as always, he pretended I hadn’t spoken. At least on this occasion, it seemed like a genuine accident. We were packed in closely after all. But he could have apologized. I cleared my throat. If you need something on this side of the table, ask me to pass it to you. Like a grownup. With manners."

Lee’s head turned and his brow furrowed as he regarded me. He was always a stylish asshole, but looked extra good tonight in his olive-green suit and white silk shirt, artfully disheveled blond hair framing his striking face. I was surprised he was acknowledging my comment, even with something as simple as eye contact. It was probably the content that made him break his protocol of ignoring me. Lee made clear that he saw me as a classless plebian, so my questioning his manners likely pissed him off. I felt strangely triumphant, receiving his glare. Finally, I’d gotten under his skin.

Then, the vaguest of smirks tilted his lips, and he turned away, giving me his back as he resumed conversation with others at the table. A short-lived victory, but I’d made him look.

Apology accepted, I muttered.

This was usually what it came down to. Me grumbling under my breath. Lee pretending he didn’t hear me. And the glances of strangers, noticing the quiet guy suddenly talking to himself.

I had to give Lee kudos for one thing, however. His relentless toxic energy kept me focused on him, rather than the claustrophobia of this ballroom. Sometimes I had anxiety in a crowd. It was never extreme, I didn’t hyperventilate or anything, at least not so far. But it came on unbidden and pissed me off. I hated not having control. Like at my old job, big meetings packed in shoulder to shoulder, I’d become fixated on the lack of space around me. Once this got in my head I couldn’t push it out, my breathing would grow shallow, and I’d get dizzy. Usually splashing water on my face did the trick, but that wasn’t always possible at work without drawing attention.

At least twice I had excused myself to get some air, and was later accused of rudeness, or asked if I was making a statement about the meeting topic. I didn’t think I just couldn’t breathe for a second would go over so well, since the stigma of mental health was extra sticky when you were advising strangers on what to do with their money. So I’d had to fake an intestinal condition, which led to ‘Leaky’ becoming my office nickname. I was somewhat offended on behalf of my false illness, but endured it because it was easier and better for my career.

Fortunately I didn’t work in corporate anymore, but I still carried cannabis gummies around, just in case. The anxiety usually arose in situations like this—surrounded by people I was not supposed to embarrass myself in front of. But I hadn’t needed anything tonight, because Lee was here, so I was too busy being aggravated to think about my environment. Plus, I had booze.

When I started dating Richard nearly a year ago, I thought for a time that Lee and I were becoming friends. Hell, I thought we were becoming good friends. Lee and I hadn’t known each other very long, but we did know each other first, and it was he who introduced me to Richard—which made it extra ludicrous when he accused me of being a gold digger.

Back then it seemed logical that Lee and I would form a deeper bond, especially after Richard and I hit it off. Lee and I were the much younger boyfriends of two brothers who were very close. We were around the same age. People had said we looked similar, though we did not. Those observations came primarily from Richard and Rory’s friends, who I think just saw us as arm candy, similar because we were both two decades younger than our boyfriends. We had completely different coloring though, him blond with brown eyes, me brunette with blue.

But I’d once marveled at how much we had in common otherwise. We both liked jazz divas, thriller movies, and spicy food. Our sense of humor was aligned, our banter easy and fun. We both enjoyed early morning kayaking on the lake, when mist drifted like ghosts along the water’s glassy surface—something we used to do together regularly. We would stay up late and finish watching a movie together if Richard and Rory found our film choices too scary.

Lee and I should have continued to become great friends; we spent time together, made each other laugh, and seemed to soothe something within each other. I thought for that short time that I’d found a platonic soulmate. And this, above all, made me feel like the biggest idiot on the planet. Because then suddenly Lee began treating me like shit on his shoe.

He would sneer when I walked into a room. I once saw him physically shudder upon looking at me. If I arrived for a dinner party at Richard’s, Lee would make comments about hiding the good silver, and jokes of that nature. I sought rationale for his change in behavior, but I was at a loss. Maybe he only introduced me to his boyfriend’s brother because he thought Richard needed to get laid. Perhaps once we got serious and it became obvious I’d be sticking around, Lee decided I wasn’t good enough for Richard, so sought to drive me away.

I wasn’t sure what his motivations were, but he most definitely was trying to drive me away. He’d spill drinks in my lap then vocally lament his clumsiness so no one suspected his intent. Bumped into me, sometimes roughly, and never apologized. Stepped on my foot a few times because ‘he didn’t see me there’ and so on. At first, I thought I must be imagining it, but as time went by and his chilly attitude plummeted to arctic, I accepted that for whatever reason, Lee simply didn’t like me.

It made me question myself. It made me feel a little insane. But most of all, it pissed me off.

It wasn’t always easy to control my anger. On many occasions, I had to restrain myself from punching him in the face. But the stepping on my feet and physical stuff was actually pretty rare; his main goal seemed to be humiliation. He loved to embarrass me. One time we were leaving a house party we’d gone to with Richard and Rory, and I accidently put on Lee’s jacket instead of my own. Sure, we had a similar build, but the brothers tended to buy us matching gifts like we came as a pair, and that annoyed me to no end, but that’s another story. So Lee’s leather jacket was nearly identical except dark green where mine was black. In the dim lighting I grabbed the wrong one, realized my mistake, and handed the jacket over to Lee.

He said in a loud voice, syrupy with false compassion, It’s okay Jonas, you can keep the jacket if you need it. No really, take it. I have dozens. No one should be cold in the winter. My own jacket was hanging on the hook beside his.

He did similar things often. We once went to dinner with some of Richard’s friends, and one guy was a trauma surgeon who regaled us with gory but interesting tales from his work life at the hospital. As usual, Lee and I were side by side, and he kept leaning in to explain the medical concepts to me. He did it in a deliberate loud whisper, making sure everyone at the table could hear him. A gurney is like a bed on wheels, he’d say or ER stands for Emergency Room. And my personal favorite, A spine is the bone in your back.

That one even got a raised eyebrow from Rory, Lee’s boyfriend. But no one spoke up on my behalf. Even Richard, who knew my intelligence well, said nothing, maybe to keep the peace. As for the others dining with us that night, I can only surmise they either believed I was that stupid, or believed Lee thought I was that stupid.

I bit my tongue for most of the night. But finally, when Richard’s doctor friend was describing a patient that coded, Lee stage-whispered in my direction, Do you know what happens when the heart stops beating? I leaned in and whispered, Keep it up and you’re gonna find out tonight. He ceased the purposely dumb questions after that, and I thought I’d gotten the better of him. But then he tripped me as I got up to use the bathroom. No one else saw him discreetly stick his foot out, so when I went down everyone laughed and teased that I’d had too much wine.

This went on and on. I tried to avoid seeing Lee, but Richard and Rory were annoyingly close and they liked to do things together, with their boyfriends. So every few weeks I had to endure the double date from hell. I hadn’t been bullied since grade school, and it seemed preposterous that this was happening to me as an adult, by an adult. You’d never guess Lee Cross as the type to bully someone. He wasn’t some chest beating tough guy or beer swilling homophobe. He was polite, well-spoken, and charismatic, able to hold his own at any social gathering. He was interesting, cordial, and sociable—to everyone but me—a well-read artsy type who created beautiful photography both privately and as part of Richard and Rory’s company marketing machine.

It’s how we’d met, and how I’d eventually met Richard—Lee came to me for help setting up a business account for his private photography work, and halfway through the meeting he asked me to take off my glasses. He wanted to see my eyes. Naturally, I thought he was hitting on me, in the cheesiest way possible. But then he told me he did print advertising for his boyfriend’s company, and said I had the perfect look for a campaign he was working on.

I’m not a model. If anything I’m camera shy…except for in private with Richard, as it turns out. I tried to say no to Lee back then, awkward about posing for him. But ultimately, he charmed me into it simply by being so damn nice, which was hilarious now, considering the drastic shift since then. But that day, over a year ago, Lee was sweet and genuine and complimentary, and by the time he walked out of my office, I’d agreed to model for that one advertisement.

That’s how persuasive Lee Cross was when he wasn’t being a dick. Charming and eye-catching with his honey blond hair, sultry brown eyes, and a smile that came with a deep dimple and a rapier wit. I hated that he was so funny, because I still laughed involuntarily at his comments sometimes. This was the worst part about the situation; If I didn’t hate Lee Cross, I definitely would have liked him.

But at this moment in time, in this reality, I hated him. Because he hated me. And I didn’t know why. It was that simple, and it was that stupid. But I endured it, for Richard.

I glanced across the crowded room at Richard now, who stood with a huddle of people and his brother Rory, the two of them rubbing elbows with some of the employees from corporate. Richard and Rory Taft. Brothers. Business partners. Nearly inseparable. Which often made my life difficult. But tonight, I was grateful for what I had.

Richard looked stunning in his black suit, brown hair neatly trimmed and stylishly peppered with gray in the front. I smiled to myself. Some of my friends scoffed at our age difference, but I didn’t care. I was an adult, Richard was hot, and I was a lucky guy.

His brother Rory was also dashing in his equally expensive suit, his hair bright red and a little longer but cut similarly to Richard’s. Rory wasn’t nearly as attractive, but then I was biased. He had paler skin to Richard’s olive tone, and a face that was cheerful, but didn’t quite make it to handsome. The brothers didn’t really look alike, but when you spent time with them it became obvious they were related, with their private jokes, mannerisms, and the way they finished each other’s sentences.

I’d wondered if maybe Lee had a crush on Richard, and that was the source of his animosity toward me. Richard wasn’t just better looking than Rory, he was also nicer. Rory kind of gave me the creeps, always smiling at me in a strange, knowing way, like he was making unsavory assumptions. And sometimes, when Lee made cracks designed to diminish me, Rory laughed a bit too hard. I preferred to spend time with Richard alone, but that wasn’t always possible.

Which was why I planned a trip for us to go away over Christmas for a vacation. A beautiful, cozy inn up in Vermont, just the two of us. Skiing. A New Year’s Eve dinner at the inn. Lots of hot-tubbing and sex and no Rory or Lee. We would be leaving this week and I was giddy with anticipation. It was going to be bliss.

Richard seemed to be looking forward to it as much as I was, buying me new scarfs and hats and sweaters ‘for Vermont’ and counting the days. Perhaps my boyfriend needed a little time away from his brother and Lee too. I didn’t like calling Richard ‘my boyfriend’ because he was fifty years old, hardly a boy. It felt weird introducing him as such. But he was constantly reminding me that things were different for gay men when he and Rory were coming of age, and that ‘partner’ was, to him, a consolation prize given by the straights because they didn’t want to think about men having sex with each other. Richard wanted to be called boyfriend, so of course I acquiesced, especially given his reasoning.

The Taft brothers certainly had come a long way from their childhood, where they’d grown up poor, reluctantly raised by their child-hating grandmother after their own mother split town and their father drank himself to death. They came as a package deal, so if I wanted to be with Richard, I had to endure Rory. But Richard was so kind and generous with me, I couldn’t complain. The man treated me like a prince, treated me better than any man ever had. And he worked so hard. So if I had to tolerate his brother Rory, and being near Lee Cross at a function sometimes, it was a small price to pay.

But I was not enjoying myself tonight. These function hall tables were packed tight, and I could feel Lee’s body heat, along with surges of silent disdain each time our arms accidentally brushed. We were seated with a group of five others at a round table with a fancy tablecloth and a shiny brass chicken as a centerpiece. The folks at our table were friendly enough, but I wasn’t good at small talk with strangers, so in that regard, I was glad that Lee took the reins with table conversation. I was better one-on-one, which was why I’d recently quit my corporate job and started a tax and accounting business from home. I would never admit to Lee that I was nervous in crowds, and trusted Richard to never reveal this. Lee would use it to attack me, just for fun.

I thought of walking over to be with Richard, but he was engaged in conversation and I didn’t feel like meeting more new people.

Edward Bombard! shouted one of the two guys in Santa suits onstage. A two-hundred-dollar gift card!

Oh, that’s me! a young man sitting at our table said, and we all clapped as he bounded toward the stage to collect his gift.

Congrats, Ed! Lee called after him.

Tonight was the holiday party for the regional division of Basic Boyd Chicken, the company Rory and Richard owned—which was why Lee and I were maintaining a truce. Best behavior tonight, you two, Rory said on the car ride over. Lee and I both grunted our agreement. I didn’t like Rory much, but was pleased that he at least acknowledged the animosity between me and Lee. Richard was still pretending it didn’t exist.

But Lee and I were behaving ourselves regardless. We would not embarrass our boyfriends by bickering, even though almost no one at this festive function knew that Rory and Richard were the owners, so it wouldn’t have made a difference. Most people here thought Rory and Richard were investors who happened to show up at every company function with food and an open bar.

From executives to restaurant workers to the kid who sold chicken on a stick at the Basic Boyd vendor cart at the carnival, all eyes were glued to the stage now the raffle giveaways had begun. They were focused on the two bearded men in Santa costumes, the men they thought owned the company: Jim and John Boyd, founders of Basic Boyd Chicken.

Except they weren’t the founders. They were merely the front men. A marketing ruse that had gone on for years, with no one the wiser.

Is Jim getting thinner? Lee whispered.

I jolted, stunned by the puff of warm breath in my ear, but more surprised that Lee was actually speaking to me. I studied his face to assess if he was setting me up, to dump a drink in my lap or something. But he gazed at the stage with a serious expression, brow furrowed over pretty brown eyes. I followed his gaze, scrutinizing the Santa Claus duo as Lee was doing. He was right. One of the Boyd brothers was looking thinner. I recalled Richard mentioning that one of them had gone vegan, and we laughed about it.

Before tonight, I’d only seen the ‘Boyd Brothers’ on television commercials, a pair of chubby lumberjacks, clad in flannel and reminiscing about their beloved grandmother whose recipes had been passed down to create the delicious marinade flavors for Basic Boyd Chicken. It was all bullshit. Rory and Richard were responsible for the recipes, and their own grandmother had been a shrew and a lousy cook.

‘Taste the Tradition’ was one of their mottos. The Boyd Brothers were supposed to appeal to working-class families and the single manly men out there. Sometimes they even chopped wood in the commercials and built a campfire to roast their chicken over, which I personally thought was a bit of overkill, but hell, it wasn’t my company. The persona was that of cheerful, down-to-earth boys from modest means who’d made good by honoring their family heritage. Nothing fancy, they’d say in the ads. Just real good flavor.

Of course the implication was that ‘fancy’ chicken was for a different kind of man, perhaps a less masculine type that frequented posh, fussy restaurants and worried about which fork to use for his squid salad. A man who didn’t understand that hard-working Americans wanted some plain, simple chicken, for plain simple people. The marketing worked. Basic Boyd was hugely popular, had several restaurants in the northeast and one in Florida now, not to mention supermarket distribution in certain regions.

Ironically, Basic Boyd was anything but basic. The chicken was magical because Richard and Rory both graduated culinary school, then spent years perfecting the marinades that kept people coming back for more.

I realized Lee was looking at me, awaiting a response. I leaned close to him and lowered my voice. Yeah, he’s definitely thinner. Richard said he’s gone vegan.

Lee’s gaze flicked to the stage again, where Jim Boyd’s Santa suit hung a bit looser on him than his brother. He can’t be a vegan, he hissed. He makes fucking chicken!

But he doesn’t.

That’s not the point and you know it. Gonna have a word with Rory about that.

No one likes a skinny Santa, I said.

Fuck Santa. No one wants a skinny Boyd Brother. Lee huffed. Fucker better start doubling up on the tofu or whatever he’s eating now. He has a contract. His appearance is part of it.

An odd thrill ran through me and I wasn’t sure why. Because Lee had actually spoken to me like a human again after all this time? How low the bar had fallen.

Not that we were gonna be besties now. I was simply the only person here he could speak to about the reality of Basic Boyd. We were locked into nondisclosure agreements.

When I first met Richard he told me he was an investor. I didn’t ask many questions. It was vague, but I’d just met the guy. Figured if things worked out with us, he’d tell me more about himself. It was after our fourth date that he told me he was actually a founder of Basic Boyd Chicken, and I thought he was feeding me a line. Everyone knew the lumberjack guys from the commercials were the founders. They said so on TV! That’s when it hit me that the Boyd Brothers were a little too perfect for the role.

Then Richard told me that the Boyds were just characters played by actors permanently on payroll. Richard cited, as he would often, how different things were in his generation, and that being an out proud gay man at the time was not the way to sell chicken to the general public.

Lee had turned away from me again, chatting with someone else now. My straw made a slurping sound as I reached the bottom of my gin and tonic. I asked around the table if anyone wanted something from the bar, but they were all too focused on the raffle taking place onstage. I tapped Lee’s shoulder. You need a drink?

He glanced at me, then turned away, not answering. We were back to that.

I decided to go find Richard, leaving the table and zigzagging past drunk, boisterous guests, servers with coffee pots, then nearly slamming into Rory, his face oddly flushed. He didn’t notice me until I asked, Where’d Richard go?

Huh? Oh, Jonas. He ran fingers over his short ginger hair, looking sweaty and slightly unkempt, which was unusual for him. I’d never seen Rory appear nervous before; Lee’s boyfriend was usually the picture of smug composure. Richard went to the bathroom, give him a few minutes, okay? Is Lee still at the table?

Yeah, I just—

Give him a few minutes. Go get a drink or something. They’re free. Rory pushed past me. I watched as he made his way through the crowd, then I