In all their years together, Chess hadn’t ever seen André lose his temper like this. He choked, unable to catch his breath. It was all going to come crashing down on him. His tower of lies. The house of cards he’d built for himself.
“How dareI? How darehepretend he’s someone he’s not. You’ve been with a man you know nothing about. He’s lied to you. About everything.”
“Stop it right now. I’m not going to listen to whatever garbage—”
“He’s a criminal, did he tell you that? A drug addict, a prostitute. Is this the kind of person you want to bring into our house? Our family? Have him wearing your father’s ring?” She turned to him, her eyes shooting venom. “How could you accept it, knowing who you are?”
“Stop it. Stop it.” Bianca jumped up. “Don’t say such terrible things about Chess.”
“But it’s true. Isn’t it?”
Through the roaring in his ears he heard voices and the sounds of furniture moving. A crowd surrounded him like bodyguards: Elliot, Wolf, and Spencer. United as always, only this time no one could help him.
“Leave him alone.” André’s words penetrated his fog of misery. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for what you think you found, but Chess doesn’t owe you anything, Mother. You had no right to do something so devious, so underhanded. It’s evil.”
“He hasn’t said I’m wrong.” Her quiet voice cut through him like a razor blade. “Go ahead and ask him.”
“You don’t have to say anything, love. You don’t owe her an explanation.”
Chess stared at the face he’d loved for nine years. How was he going to go on without seeing it next to him on the pillow every morning?
“No, I don’t. Not to her. But you?” His attempt at a feeble smile failed miserably. “You deserve the truth.”
“The truth?” The fierce protectiveness in André’s expression faded to stunned as his words sank in. Pale under his tan, André set his jaw. “Come with me and we’ll talk. Privately.”
Now that his Waterloo was upon him, it made no sense to turn tail and run. “It’s already out in the open. And I’d rather everyone hear what I have to say from my lips than from a second-hand source.”
None of his friends had moved from his side: Wolf stood sentry to his right, Elliot to his left, Spencer behind him. Win gave him a nod of encouragement as well, and after one last deep breath, he began.
“Have you ever felt so hopeless that nothing mattered anymore, including yourself? The depths of a despair so black and suffocating, it seems impossible to escape?” He glanced at his shaking hands and laced them together. “My father walked out when I was thirteen—I don’t even know if he was my father. My mother wasn’t well even before that, but after he left, she kept spiraling downward. She wasn’t a bad woman, but it wasn’t easy to make it with a young child and no support, and after a fall left her in pain, she became addicted to opioids. Then she moved on to harder drugs. Eventually, it killed her.”
Spencer rested his hands on his shoulders, and that comforting gesture nearly broke him, but he tapped into the survival strength he’d used all those years ago, to carry him through to the next part. He spoke straight to André, seeing the devastation in his eyes.
“She died when I was sixteen. Social services contacted my father, but he wanted nothing to do with me, claiming he didn’t even know if I was his. He wasn’t on my birth certificate, so there was nothing they could do.”
“Where did you go?” André wiped at his eyes.
“They wanted to put me in foster care, but I’d heard enough stories about what happens there. So I ran away.”
“To where?”
Courage could only get him so far, and he could no longer bear to see the disgust and embarrassment on André’s face. He hung his head.
“The city. I lived on the streets, in the parks…the subway when it got too cold. I’d followed in my mother’s footsteps, doing drugs, always chasing that next high to make me feel good so the pain didn’t swallow me whole.” He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself. “I did whatever I could to get the money I needed. I shoplifted to eat, stole money to get high. And sometimes…sometimes I’d go with guys. And they paid me.”
Breathing was almost impossible now, and his vision grayed. He rested his head in his hands. Spencer’s grip turned harsh, as if he knew that given the chance, Chess would run as far away from the condemning faces of the people he’d deceived.
He wiped his face and continued. “Eventually I got caught. I was picked up for solicitation in a sting in Riverside Park one night. Because I was only seventeen and didn’t have drugs on me at the time, they sent me to ACS, and the social workers there put me in rehab for ninety days. After that I went to a halfway house, where I spent the time studying for my GED, continuing my therapy, and staying clean. The rest is what I’ve already told you. I ended up in foster care anyway until I went to college.” Eyes streaming, he lifted his head to face a devastated André. “So now you know. I thought the record of my arrest was sealed, but apparently the old adage is true: money can buy anything…or anyone. This is the whole ugly story. I haven’t left anything out.”
To his right, he heard Bianca crying and Quentin comforting her. His friends remained by his side, and Chess’s frantic heart settled, knowing at least if he lost André, he’d still have their love and support.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to talk alone.” André’s face was a hard mask, a shell Chess had never thought he’d see aimed at him. He rose to his feet and nodded, still unable to look anyone in the eye.
“I’m ready.”
Following a step behind, there was little doubt in his mind that André would ask him to leave. The stiff set of his shoulders and granite-hard thrust of his jaw bode no tenderness or sweet forgiveness.
“In here.” André opened the door to the library, then closed it behind them. Several moments passed. “Why?”
