Chapter Seventeen - A Twist Of Fate
Ruslan looked around, trying hard to look pious. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who was trying to do that. Francis Davenport might have had more enemies than friends attending his funeral, people who wanted to make sure, just like Johnny, that the defunct was dead without one shadow of a doubt, and would soon be six feet under.
As his eyes roamed over the attendees, something caught his attention. Nigel was close to the priest, his head down, his hands clasped in front of him, in a visible effort to hold it together. Ruslan felt a bit touched. No matter how big an asshole Nigel was, he had just lost his father, the only parent he had had left in the world, and that could not be easy.
For a few seconds, Ruslan looked at Nigel from his place. There was plenty of distance between them, so he could not see him clearly. Yet, the oddest thing, when Nigel lifted his head, Ruslan thought he saw something that startled him. A grin seemed to split Nigel's face in two. Impatiently, he pulled at Johnny's sleeve.
"What is it?" Johnny whispered.
"Just look at Nigel," Ruslan replied.
The priest managed to catch himself into his long robe and stumbled. Courteously, Nigel hurried to help him. Ruslan set his eyes on him, avid to see any traces of that nasty grin he had noticed. But right now, Nigel's head hung down again, and discreetly, he patted his eyes with a handkerchief.
"I suppose even an asshole like him could have tears for his father," Johnny commented.
"I wasn't talking about that. Just earlier, he seemed to be smiling."
"Are you sure, pretty? He looks kind of wrecked."
Now Ruslan wasn't so sure anymore. At this distance, his sight could play tricks on him. "Not sure. Not really. It just struck me as unusual. But I might have imagined everything. I don't like the guy, but I shouldn't be this petty. It's his father's funeral, after all."
Johnny's eyes seemed to follow Nigel for a while. Ruslan knew Johnny took his words at face value. Right now, though, he could not help but feel a little guilty. He started to say something, but an old lady in front of them turned in her seat and hushed him with a severe look and a hissing sound. The tall black feather adorning her hat was shaking with equal indignation. Ruslan murmured his apologies and looked down, chastised.
After the ceremony, Ruslan had to drag Johnny after him to address his condolences. They had to do the whole thing since they were present. They stopped in front of Nigel. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Nigel," Ruslan said in a voice he hoped didn't sound fake.
Nigel took his hand and stared him in the eyes. Right now, he looked like a kicked puppy. "I guess I'm an orphan now," he said with a long, heart wrenching sigh.
Ruslan patted his shoulder. "You must be strong, Nigel. Your father would be proud of you. It was a beautiful service."
Nigel nodded solemnly. He then offered his hand to Johnny. Ruslan watched his lover as he shook Nigel's hand shortly, without saying a word.
"We should see each other sometime. It won't be long until you take over your father's business, too," Nigel said. "I would like to continue the good business relationship our dads had."
"Of course," Ruslan said after a short moment of hesitation. "But it will be long until I take over the family business. Papa has plenty of active years in front of him."
"Eh, you never know," Nigel said with another long sigh. "I thought my father would live for many years and that I wouldn't take over the family business this soon. I suppose that I must rise to the occasion, now. That is why I want to keep the relationships my father worked so hard to build over the years."
"Of course," Ruslan said again, but now something in Nigel's body language was making him wary.
They were pushed from behind by other people who wanted to address their condolences, so they bid their goodbye in a hurry and moved along.
Ruslan could feel Johnny walking next to him, his body tense. He didn't have to look to know that his lover's face was all a frown.
"Johnny, do you think we could walk a little slower? Any faster, and I'll have to sprint to catch up with you."
"Sorry, pretty. Just lost in thought, is all," Johnny said.
"Can you tell me what you're thinking about? You look like you're ready to wreck someone with your fists."
"I believe what you thought you saw earlier is true. That asshole Nigel is pretty damned happy about his father kicking the bucket."
"Now it's my turn to ask, Johnny. Are you sure?"
Johnny nodded curtly and followed with a grunt.
"What of his behavior made you think that?" Ruslan asked.
"I watched him. As soon as someone approached him, he was all sad and weeping. But, in between, he looked at everyone like he had just won some fucking lottery. The fucker is happy about his father's death. And it doesn't look like Francis had managed to choose a replacement or teach Nigel how to stop being an asshole."
"That's bad," Ruslan said in a low voice. "I should warn papa. He'll know what to do about this."
"And, in the meantime, we don't go to meet this asshole at all, not even for a scoop of ice cream. I don't care if your papa thinks we should. That's not happening."
"Of course," Ruslan hurried to appease his lover. "I was just being polite when I talked to him."
They walked in silence to the car waiting for them. This time, it was a car put at their disposal by Douglas. The old man was traveling with Martin, like usual. They would talk about it all at home, as they were supposed to reunite back at his papa's. For him, that mansion, austere on the outside, but warm on the inside, would always be his home, even if he didn't live there anymore.
***
Douglas seemed lost in thought, as they walked inside and gathered all inside the old man's studio. Ruslan beckoned Johnny to sit by his side on the leather sofa, but his lover shook his head. He chose not to insist. Johnny was restless and he couldn't sit down. Ruslan wondered whether Johnny was reading too much into Nigel's behavior. Yet, at the same time, he could not wholeheartedly reject the idea that Nigel wasn't at all devastated by his father's death.
"Papa, we need to talk about Nigel," Ruslan was the first to speak.
Douglas just nodded. He picked a letter from his desk, stared at it like it was important and then threw it back into the pile. Ruslan found that odd. His papa was a stickler for orderliness.
"Yes, we must," the old man said. "The worse came to worst, eventually. Nigel is in charge of the family business, and that doesn't bode well with a lot of people. We should be prepared."
"Prepared? But for what? Sometimes, papa, I wish you haven't kept me so much in the dark about your business."
"I haven't, Russy. What you see is all there is with us. You're as involved with the casino business as you need to be. And, if I were to retire, you know everything to take it all from my hands."
"Retire? Seriously? But why? Papa, I don't want that much responsibility. And you're in top shape. What reason could you have to retire?"
"I am getting quite old, Russy. Don't you want to take the burden of responsibility, as you say, from my shoulders?"
"Just what I said," Ruslan replied with a huff. "Come on, papa. I'm not five. What's going on? It's not like you to think of retirement."
"You're getting married, Russy. Don't you want to be completely grownup? Running the business by yourself is in your power. And you'll have Johnny to help you."
