“Way ahead of you,” I said. “It was time for a new phone anyway.”
Dean’s lower lip quivered. “I’m so sorry, Dre. I’m sorry for accusing Mel of being the leak and I’m sorry for breaking up with you and I’m sorry for this entire mess.”
I wanted to accept his apology. To tell him everything was all right and that it was water under the bridge or whatever, but I couldn’t. Not yet. “You bailed on me,” I said. “The first time things got tough, you broke my heart.”
Those words might as well have been bullets, and I could see the moment they tore through Dean’s body. His smile was gone now. “I know. I was scared, Dre. That’s not an excuse. I should have trusted you.”
“We should have faced it together.”
“You’re right,” Dean said. “I told my parents about being demi. I wish we could have faced that together.”
“Me too.”
“I also told them about us.”
“And then someone else told the whole world,” I said with a laugh. I wanted so badly to reach through the screen and hug Dean. “How’d your mom take it?”
Dean shrugged. “About as well as you thought she would. Seems you were right about that too.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. Normally, I would have taken a victory lap to celebrate being right, but there was no victory in being right about something that caused Dean pain.
“God, I miss you, Dre.”
“I miss you too. So fucking much.” And then I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears welled up in my eyes, and even though I kept telling myself to be strong and not to break down, I did it anyway.
Dean said, “I hate that I caused you pain, and I swear I’ll try never to do it again. Can you forgive me? Can you give me another chance?”
“I don’t know, Dean.” Those were the hardest words I’d ever had to say. “I was so hurt when you broke up with me—I’m still hurt—but maybe what you did was for the best. The election’s coming up and our lives are so different—”
“I get it.” Dean hung his head in defeat and was quiet for a second. “I saw your Jackson McMann photo shoot. It was brilliant.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Mel came up with the idea.”
“And I saw the water bottle.” He looked up at me through his soft lashes. “You kept it?”
“Kept it?” I said. “I carry that thing everywhere. I drink so much water I’m peeing like a hundred times a day. My mom thinks I have a UTI or something.”
Dean laughed his awful, wonderful laugh, and I cracked a smile, forgetting for a moment all the pain, all the trouble being in a relationship with Dean had caused. And I remembered how being with Dean made me feel like there was nowhere else I wanted to be, and no one else I wanted to be with.
“Fuck it,” I said. “I don’t care who wins the election or who lives where or how many cable news shows know how I feel about you. I don’t want to be without you for another second.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Tears rolled down Dean’s cheeks, cutting tracks through his beautiful smile. “You are, quite possibly, the most amazing human being I have ever met.”
“Possibly?”
“Don’t forget,” he said. “I have also met Ellen.”
Technology was amazing because it meant I could sit and talk to this amazing boy even though we were miles and worlds apart, but the things I felt for him were too big for words, and the technology didn’t exist yet that would let me reach through the phone to show him how I felt. All I could do was smile and laugh and bask in the glow of being part of Dean’s life again.
I could’ve stared at his face until my battery died, but there were other things we had to deal with. “So what do we do now?”
“I think Jackson McMann is Pyrogue.”
“Mel thinks it’s McMann too,” I said. “I told my dad, but he won’t do anything about it.”
Dean nodded. “Neither will my mother.” A shadow crawled across his face. “She’d prefer to forget the whole thing ever happened.”
It was difficult for me to hate anyone, but I kind of hated Dean’s mom right then. I was sure he’d tell me everything she’d said in his own time, but I didn’t need to know the details to see how much her reaction to the truth was affecting him. “Dean . . .”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Let’s focus on McMann. I have an idea about that.” The dark clouds parted, and he was my Dean again. “Do you think your father would allow you to invite Mel to the debate? I know it’s short notice.”
“I can swing it.”
“Good. We must expose McMann. But in order to do so, we need his phone or computer so that we can prove he sent the messages as Pyrogue or that he was the one who leaked our pictures and messages.”
“Agreed,” I said. “How?”
Slowly but surely Dean’s smile returned, creeping up like the dawning sun, just as beautiful and just as bright. “Do you still have Promethean on your phone?”
Dean
EVERYTHING NEEDED TO be perfect. My mother wouldn’t accept anything less. No distractions, no mistakes. Not tonight.
The third debate was being held at the University of Washington in Seattle as a concession to McMann. Not that the city had rolled out the red carpet for him. My father had agreed that I could bring Tamal and Mindy as my guests, and all my mother had to say on the matter, though not directly to me, was that she hoped they would keep me away from “the Rosarios’ child.” She couldn’t even call Dre by his name. He was just “the son” or “that troublemaker” or, when she saw him in pictures, “him,” spoken with the same loathing that befouled her words when she mentioned McMann.
My mother’s instructions, delivered through one of her aides, were that I was to remain in the greenroom at all times. Unfortunately, I was going to have to disobey her wishes in order to do what I had to do.
“I need to use the restroom.” Mindy, who was wearing a sweet blue dress that made her look like a doll, which really conflicted with the Mindy that I knew privately, rose from the chair she had been sitting in, and left without waiting for a reply.
“That girl weirds me out,” Tamal said. “One day I’m going to read a story about how she wound up a serial killer.”
“Or the CEO of a wildly successful company.”
“Same skill set.”
“Either way, I’m glad she’s on our team.”
Tamal leaned toward me. “Do you think this will work?”
I chuckled. “Probably not. Are you having second thoughts? I would understand if you wanted to back out.”
“You’re my best friend, Dean. You don’t bail on best friends.”
“Not even when it means committing a felony?”
Tamal waved that off like it meant nothing. “Your mom will pardon me after she wins the election.”
“If she wins.”
“You’re right,” Tamal said. “I should suck up to Dre just to make sure I’ve got all my bases covered.”
My phone vibrated. I picked it up and checked the screen. “Shoot. Mindy forgot her purse.” Mindy’s silver clutch was wedged between the cushions in the chair she had been sitting in. “I’m just going to run it to her.”
Tamal pulled his laptop out of his backpack. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll just be here playing games.”
When I neared the door, one of my mom’s aides stopped me. He was a younger guy who looked like he took his job way too seriously. “Sorry, Dean. I can’t let you leave.”
I held up the purse. “Mindy forgot her purse.”
The guy shook his head. “Then she can come back and get it herself.”
I lowered my voice. “She kind of needs something that’s in here. Something personal.” I let his mind fill in the blanks. I didn’t exactly lie. There really was something personal in Mindy’s purse that she needed. If this guy thought that thing was a tampon, I was fine with that, though I would never understand why they made some men so squeamish.
The guy g
rimaced. “Go. But be quick.”
“Understood.”
Navigating the stadium at the University of Washington was easier than the one at UNLV had been, and I didn’t get lost once. I did, however, have to make a detour when I nearly ran into my mother, father, and Nora. I didn’t know where they were going, but I was grateful they hadn’t seen me. That would have ruined everything.
My destination was exactly where the map I had downloaded online had said it would be, and I stood outside in the hall trying to slow my hummingbird heart. It beat with fear and anticipation. It beat for the person on the other side of the door.
I opened the door and walked in.
Dre
“DO I LOOK okay?” I asked Mel. “Because I feel like an investment banker.”
Mel and I were sitting in an empty office that looked like it belonged to someone who did payroll or another type of administrative job. It wasn’t a big office, but it was large enough for us to work.
“For the millionth time, you look fine.”
“Okay, but I don’t want to look fine. I want to look appropriately professional but with style. I want to look—”
The door opened. Mel and I both turned toward it, the lie we’d prepared on our lips in case it wasn’t someone we were expecting. Thankfully, we didn’t need the lie.
Dean walked in, shutting the door behind him, and then just stood there wearing an expression that was equal parts bashful and nauseated. He looked ridiculously handsome in his gray suit, with his hair parted perfectly.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
“I like your suspenders.”
“I like your tie,” I said. “It’s giving me corporate tyrant ruling over an evil empire vibes.”
Mel threw up her hands. “For fuck’s sake, just hurry up and kiss so we can stay on schedule.”
Dean rushed to me, and I threw my arms around him and I was kissing him again and then I was punching him in the arm for breaking up with me in the first place, followed by more kissing.
“I’m so sorry.” Dean held my face in his hands and kissed my forehead.
“I get it,” I said. “I should’ve been more understanding of what you were going through.”
Mel cleared her throat, and I stood aside and motioned at her. “Dean, I’d like you to meet my best friend, Mel.”
Dean offered her his hand because of course he did. I was surprised when Mel shook it. “Your mom’s agenda is the worst. If she wins, I will use my friendship with Dre to protest her at every opportunity. Also, if you hurt Dre again, I will make your life miserable.”
“My life was pretty miserable without him,” Dean said.
Mel leaned in, still holding his hand, and lowered her voice. “You have no idea what real misery is.”
Dean looked a little shaken. “Is she serious?”
Mel drew her finger slowly across her throat while grinning. She was enjoying herself entirely too much.
“All right, Mel, you can finish threatening my boyfriend with unending torment later,” I said, prying them apart. “Should we get started?”
“I’m ready,” Dean said, keeping one eye on Mel.
“Sure, whatever,” Mel said. “But I feel like I should say, again, that this is bonkers and we should find another way. Any other way.”
I’d already tried convincing Mel this plan was our only option, so I just shrugged. Dean still had some fight in him to spare, though.
“If we don’t stop McMann now, we won’t get another chance.” Dean looked determined but less optimistic than I was expecting. “Heck, the election is in a couple of weeks. We may already be too late. But we still have to try.”
Mel wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, okay. No more speeches from you. Get in the chair, we don’t have a lot of time.”
Dean
I DIDN’T KNOW what the future held for Dre and me, but I wanted to explore it with him. I wanted to explore who I was and who he was and who we could be together. As I walked out of that room, leaving Mel and Dre behind, I was sure of nothing but that.
I wheeled a mop bucket in front of me, limping slightly as I made my way down the hall. Gray hair tied off in a ponytail hung down my back, and my suit was covered by a pair of dingy overalls. No one paid attention to me. Those who saw me moved out of my way as if I were surrounded by a repulsor field.
This time, as I approached the door, my heart was beating normally. I wasn’t scared. Seeing Dre and not knowing if he could forgive me, facing my mother and telling her I wasn’t the son she expected me to be, those situations were scary. This was a breeze.
McMann’s name was on a sign taped to the side of the door of his greenroom. I passed by, looking for him, but he wasn’t inside, so I moved out of the way to wait. I sent the message: I am in position.
I didn’t have to wait long before Jackson McMann came striding down the hall with his shoulders back and his head held high, flanked by a stylish young woman who I assumed was his assistant. McMann looked victorious. Like someone who believed he had already won.
“Mr. McMann!” A short man in a clean-cut blue suit made his way toward McMann with his hand extended. “Might I have a moment of your time?”
McMann brushed the man aside as if he wasn’t there, as if he was hardly a human being at all, and walked into his greenroom.
“Asshole,” the man muttered after him, and left the way he had come.
With McMann finally where I needed him, I pushed my mop bucket toward the open door and walked inside.
“Are you here to fix the toilet?” McMann’s assistant asked, and I nodded. “It should have been fixed before we arrived. Mr. McMann was very clear regarding his requirements for a private restroom.”
“I’m on it.”
In fact, Dre was the one who had clogged that particular toilet. I had overheard my mother complaining about McMann’s ridiculous demands to my father and knew he would be given a greenroom with a private restroom. I didn’t know how Dre had gotten in, but he had sworn he could do it, and he had.
McMann’s greenroom looked similar to the way Dre had described it from the previous debate. More like a computer lab than a place to relax. Men and women were working on their laptops, sitting wherever they could find space, and McMann himself was seated in front of a computer, typing furiously, oblivious to what was happening around him. This was nothing like my mother’s campaign, all noise and controlled chaos. McMann was known for his need for quiet, and there was something strangely lonely about watching him sit in a room surrounded by people that didn’t speak to one another.
Inside the restroom, I spent a minute working on the toilet even though I had no idea how Dre had clogged it. Nor was I sure I wanted to know. My only job now was to kill time until the next phase of the plan, which was scheduled to begin any minute.
“You asshole!” Dre’s voice carried through the room. “I know you leaked the photos of me and Dean and all our messages.”
I crept to the door and peeked into the room to watch.
Jackson McMann looked up from his laptop and smiled. “Andre Rosario? Is that you? Why don’t you come in?”
Dre looked so dashing in his suit and his bow tie, but I couldn’t think about that at the moment. I needed to be ready.
“Victoria,” McMann said. “I need the room. Andre and I have some things to discuss in private.”
The assistant, Victoria, herded everyone out of the room, and shut the door behind her. This was not part of the plan. But I was still in the restroom, and I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Dre.
“Why’d you do it?” Dre asked. I couldn’t tell whether the bravado in his voice was genuine or not, but it sure sounded real.
McMann stood and motioned toward the couches. “Sit, Andre. Would you care for an espresso? Some water, perhaps? No? Then why don’t we chat for a moment. And Dean, you can come out too. I think you should also be involved in this conversation.”
Dre
DEAN SLUNK OUT o
f the toilet looking utterly defeated while McMann watched, wearing a smug smile I wanted to smack off his face.
“Did you really think that Scooby-Doo shit was going to work?”
“I’m sorry,” Dean said to me.
I leaned against him and rubbed the back of his hand with mine. “It’s not your fault.”
“Your phones, please.” McMann held out a black bag. There was nothing we could do but drop our phones in. After we did, McMann sealed the bag shut. “This bag will prevent any signals from getting in or out, allowing us to speak privately.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” I said. “Well, okay, that’s not true. I’ve got a lot to say, but—”
“Enough.” McMann wore a toothy grin and looked so damned proud of himself. He was only missing a mustache to twirl. “Your ridiculous plan was doomed from the start.”
“We almost had you,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
“Did you?” McMann reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I still have this. That man in the hallway? Your friend. Mindy Maguire, right? She was supposed to lift my phone from my pocket and return it to your greenroom, where your other friend, the one with the foreign name, was going to attempt to hack it and expose me to the world. Isn’t that right?”
Dean pulled off the gray wig, dropped it to the ground beside him, and unzipped his coveralls. With the makeup Mel had used to age him, he really did look like an investment banker now. Fine, yes, I was a little turned on.
“We’re so screwed,” I said.
“You can’t do anything to us,” Dean said to McMann. “Tamal and Mindy know where we are. If we don’t return soon, they will tell my parents.”
“And I can’t wait for that to happen,” McMann said. “I can see the headlines now. Children of presidential hopefuls attempt theft of Jackson McMann’s property. Foiled by their own hubris.” He tossed the phone onto the desk beside him.
“Don’t you feel even a little bad about screwing with our lives? How big a dick do you have to be to leak the private pics and conversations of a couple of teens in love to the press?”
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