Connor (Boys & Toys Season 2 1)

Maybe he didn’t want me to know who he is.

“Listen, Connor.” Mr. Wales takes a breath. “I know you have your reasons. Brenda keeps her eyes and ears open. She knows some of the interns are treating you differently.” He lifts an eyebrow. “It’s because they know you have something of true value to offer this company. You didn’t grow up with the means they did. You worked hard for what you have—and it is because of that fact that I wanted you here on my team.”

I meet his eyes finally.

Even now, I see Alan in them, completely.

“I want you to take the rest of the day to make up your mind, Connor,” he tells me kindly. “I will respect whatever decision you make, whether it is to stay in my program or to go your separate way.”

He rises from his desk and extends a hand. I rise as well, take his hand, and give it a firm shake.

He leans in and adds, “Not to add any pressure, but I sure hope you choose to stay, because I read your article on developing neighborhoods, Mayville in particular, and let me say, I would’ve published that article today.” He lowers his voice and adds, “Fuck the abundance of adjectives; I like how you write.”

I crack a smile—a genuine one. “Thanks, sir. I mean …” I smirk and stiffen my back. “Irving.”

He smiles back. We still haven’t let go hands. “You may not know this, but my son’s gay. And I think a spotlight from our publication on the center of the gay community in this city is … exactly what Wales Weekly needs. I’m not interested in a fiction we could spin just to get the clicks, and the reads, and the numbers. Not anymore. I want the truth, Connor. I want to publish only the truth. I want to see the truth. I want to feel it on every page we print, on every broadcast we promote, embedded into every headline we feature. The truth,” he says, giving my hand one more shake. “That’s what will build and fuel the future of Wales Weekly.”

I give him a nod. My hand is going numb. “I appreciate your kind words.”

“Take the rest of the day, Connor, give it some thought … and realize I am not a man who blows smoke, and know I meant every word I said … and finally …” He lets go of my hand at last. “I hope you make the right choice,” he finishes with a wink.

20

When I leave Mr. Wales’ office, I feel like I’m weightless. I might float straight into the ozone if someone opens a window.

My day just flipped over with a handshake.

And my boyfriend is the big man’s son.

Boyfriend. Maybe that’s premature to say. He did send me a disconcerting text just before I left, a text I still haven’t replied to.

Feeling beads of sweat on my forehead, I slip into the bathroom on my way to the elevator and dab my face with a wad of paper towels. I give the neck of my tie a tug, unsure how to proceed. Do I keep my internship? Do I decline his offer? Do I reply to Alan’s text and ask him what the hell’s up?

The bathroom door swings open.

Jay steps inside.

“Seriously,” I tell him, peeling my eyes off of the mirror, “we have got to stop running into each other in bathrooms. It’s just plain creepy.”

“What was in my coffee?” he asks.

His voice is strangely soft. I’m pretty sure if I tell him the truth, he’s going to sue me for a fairly serious crime of drugging someone, press charges, and destroy me completely.

And even that thought doesn’t stop it from coming right out of my lips. “Viagra.”

Jay’s eyes narrow. “Viagra,” he repeats, as if he doesn’t believe a bit of it.

I face him. “So you can imagine how my lovely afternoon was like. It worked, by the way,” I add, giving my tie another tug. “The pill. I didn’t hear the end of it from my roommate, who couldn’t stop looking at my erection.”

His mouth twists in an odd way. For a second, I can’t tell if he means to scowl, smirk, or laugh. His eyes squint so deeply, they’re almost gone.

Then he says: “That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Yes, it was,” I agree.

He snorts. “If I was you, I would have drugged my coffee to make me shit my brains out.”

I turn and stare at him in shock.

Jay shrugs, crosses his arms, then leans against the wall. “Just saying. It would’ve been a stronger fuck-you. Viagra? Really? That’s so high school. We’re in the real world now.”

I’ll have to tell Lex later that his first idea might have been the better one. Even our victim agrees. “Or maybe you’re just wishing I spent the whole afternoon glued to a toilet instead of poking holes in my shorts.”