by Kevin Sean
“What’s happening here?” I ask, gesturing around us as we walk into Lexington Tower.
Sue catches her breath before jumping into an explanation. “After Photogram stole our color scheme for ConnectMeet, the software engineers got fed up with these leaks. They developed a program which could bypass encryptions and pinpoint certain devices which appeared to be transmitting confidential information directly from LexTech’s headquarters to Photogram’s offices.”
I’m shocked. “So we found the leak?”
Sue gives a single grim nod. “Yes, Mr. Lexington.”
“And…?” I know no matter who it is, I’ll be upset.
“It was Dan Scavino from the design department, sir. The engineering department tracked the leaks to his computer and cell phone.”
“Dan is the leak to Photogram?” My knees shake, as if ready to buckle at any moment. Dan betraying the company just doesn’t compute. I trust Sue, but my gut tells me he would never leak confidential information. “Are you sure?” I ask, knowing full well that if Sue is sharing this information, she’s very sure.
“They’re positive that Dan’s device sent the confidential information.”
“Where is he now?” I look around frantically, scanning the lobby. It’s packed. Is every single LexTech employee in here? I see so many familiar faces, but none of them belong to my favorite member of the design department.
“He was just taken outside, they’re transporting him to a police station for questioning,” Sue says. “We disabled his phone and computer access to LexTech’s communication servers. The police confiscated the phone. For evidence, I suppose.”
I’m still in total shock. I thought I was an excellent judge of character just like I thought Dan was a stand up employee, but I guess I’ve erred gravely.
I open my ConnectMe messaging application to re-read the messages I sent Dan in the past. It will hurt, but I want to see how much confidential information I was giving Photogram without even realizing.
When I open our chat log, I notice something odd: there’s a green dot next to Dan’s name, as if he were online.
“Sue, you said Dan’s phone was disconnected from our communication servers, right?”
“Correct, sir.”
“Then why does it say he’s online here?”
Sue furrows her brow and looks at my screen. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she mutters.
I decide to investigate and see if a call to Dan’s phone will go through. Apparently it will, because when I hit the call button my phone dials. What the hell?
At the same time, a tropical steel drum ringtone plays from someone else’s phone. I can hear the faint music over the hum of the crowd, but it’s coming from another part of the lobby. I need to follow that sound. I race in the noise’s direction. Sue has the same idea and follows right behind me. Before we’ve pinned down where they are, the steel drums stop.
I dial again, and the same tropical ringtone starts. It’s coming from the group of software developers right in front of me. I’m about to barge into the circle when I see Aria—the youngest engineer at the company—pull out the noisy phone, silence it, and toss it back in her purse. I rush to her side and stand squarely in front of her.
“Why is your phone ringing when I call Dan’s number? Why are you online using his profile?”
Aria drops her bag, stumbles backward and doesn’t answer the question.
Edison, the most senior software engineer at LexTech, steps forward and interjects: “Aria, did you install a remote access connection between your phone and Dan’s?” She turns to address me now. “If that’s the case, that means it’s possible that it was Aria sending all the secret information to Photogram, and she was using Dan’s identity like a VPN to cover her tracks.”
I glare at Aria. “Is what she says true?”
“The remote access was for purely professional purposes, I swear,” Aria stammers. Her eyes dart everywhere besides straight towards Edison and I.
“Being connected to a suspect’s phone seems like pertinent information, no?” I say, incensed. “This is highly suspicious, Aria. And it means Dan has been arrested under false pretenses. If you’re innocent, you must be forthcoming and honest to clear your name—”
But before I can say another scolding word, Aria bolts. It’s not a very well thought out maneuver, considering two beefy security guards who I hired personally are flanking the front door. Before she can get five feet away from me, she’s been restrained.
“Can someone tell the police to let Dan go, and come back here for the real criminal?” Sue shouts into the crowd. A handful of employees run outside to do exactly that.
Edison turns to me. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Lexington. We should have waited for your approval before bypassing encryptions to track the leak, or at the very least considered the possibility of remote access before accusing Dan.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I reassure her. “All’s well that ends well.”
The officers had yet to leave the premises so they return within no time at all. With them is Dan, looking exhausted and confused. But at least he’s not wearing handcuffs. I pull him in for an enormous hug. “I knew it couldn’t have been you,” I say.
Dan punches me on the shoulder and rolls his eyes. “You owe me big time for this one, boss.”
After the police have taken away the actual suspect and the ruckus in the lobby of Lexington Tower has subsided, Sue taps me on the shoulder for a private aside. I follow her to an empty corner of the room. I open my mouth to express my relief and thank Sue for her help, but she jumps to speak first.
“Sir, I need to resign.” She must be joking.
“Resign? Sue, did something hit you in the head? Are you suffering a concussion or some form of sustained brain damage? Are you a hologram programmed to walk and talk like Sue? Resign… absolutely not, Sue!” I didn’t mean to go off like that, but I refuse to accept this resignation.
“Mr. Lexington, I assure you it’s what must be done. It’s my fault that Dan was wrongfully accused. I should have caught on to Aria’s scheme sooner,” she continues. I won’t hear any more of this.
“It would be more of a punishment for me than for you if you left LexTech, Sue,” I assure her. “You’re the backbone of this company, you keep everything running in tip-top shape. We’d be nothing without you. In fact, I’m giving you a pay raise for being so selfless and so dedicated to this company’s success.” After this last sentence, Sue yelps with excitement and gives me a hug—something she’s never done before.
“Well, if you insist… thank you so much, Mr. Lexington!” Sue is beaming now.
“No problem, Sue.” I say, my spirits equally lifted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an urgent matter to attend to.”
“Really? I don’t remember putting anything into your calendar at this hour.” She looks down to check her watch.
“Oh no, I scheduled this very important meeting myself,” I respond. I have an appointment to try out some new positions with my sexy boyfriend. “Don’t expect me back at the office until tomorrow!” I call behind me while I turn to leave, thinking of nothing besides holding Ben Carpenter tight and never letting him go again.
21
BEN
For a few minutes after Logan and Pierre drive off, I don’t move from my position in the middle of Castro Street.
I notice that the birds still chirp with more festive vim and vigor than Mariah Carey performing a Christmas medley. The streets are still packed with cute gay couples, both young and old. The crosswalks are still painted in the same iconic colored stripes of the rainbow flag. Yup, my neighborhood has definitely remained the same. No storm could change The Castro.
But damn, it sure has changed me.
The latest news story I read while Logan took a business call explained that although it looked ominous for six days straight, the storm was at its worst on the first night. Such freak weather could be a recipe for death and destruction, but San
Francisco is a powerful community, and huge volunteer efforts and action by public servants, medical professionals, and first response teams prevented anyone from dying. It’s a miracle. Reading about the heroes who saved this city made me so grateful for those who risk their lives daily for the public good.
Now, standing on the street, I remember that it was only a week ago when a stranger hit on me in the middle of this very avenue and I responded in a truly deranged and socially awkward manner. Knowing now what the future held for me, the memory is more funny than it is painful. I walk past the infamous site of that run-in and step cautiously up to my front door. I don’t know why, but I feel as if I’m approaching a ticking time bomb. I unlock the door and make my way up the stairs. I’m unable to brush off the odd sensation of being out of place which has overcome me.
Now that I’m safe and sound at home… I don’t feel so safe and sound.
At least, I’m not instantly comforted by coming home the same way I was before. Once upon a time, on days when I didn’t mind being single so much, entering my apartment and knowing that I would have it all to myself and the prerogative to do whatever I wanted was liberating. That feeling’s lost now, replaced by an omnipresent and aching longing for Logan. I’m overwhelmed by the unshakeable inkling that I’ve put a jigsaw puzzle together incorrectly through sheer force, shoving pieces into the wrong place, and left crucial components on the table unused.
I want to be with Logan again already. I miss him so much it hurts, and we’ve barely been apart at all. I wish he was here with me, sitting on my couch or laying on my bed. Or wearing an apron (and nothing else) while frying up breakfast foods. The mental image of Logan being here in my humble abode is unimaginably foreign, but even more than that, it’s heartwarming.
Logan isn’t here, though, so I’ll have to entertain myself somehow until he’s done with work. I try to recreate my usual routine from the past year, when I was so solitary and so unaware of the deeply embedded nature of my loneliness. It feels wrong now to be lying on the bed watching trashy TV with Jade. It’s not that relaxation is unwelcome (it is, very much so) or I’ve grown tired of reality television (I would never). I just feel like a Logan-shaped piece of me is missing.
Jade meows and kneads my pants in her tiny claws. “Did you miss me, Jade?” I ask. She purrs as if to say yes. “I made a new friend I’d like you to meet. His name is Logan—and I’m sure he’d love to buy you all the catnip your tiny heart desires.”
Eventually Jade tires of my attention and jumps off the couch to go nap on her cat bed.
I stand up and survey my apartment. It feels like an unfamiliar place, now that I’m looking at it with fresh eyes. It’s messy. Not casually messy, like I didn’t have the time to clean. No, there are months’ worth of dust all over the place and dishes I haven’t washed in at least two weeks. I can’t believe I was living in my own filth and didn’t even realize it. I’m having trouble reconciling my happy self of today with the heartbroken Ben of the last year.
I’m so grateful to be looking back on the past with relief instead of looking towards the future with dread.
I pick up a tube of paint on a top shelf and dust it off to reveal the color of acrylic held inside. Cadet Blue, reads the label. The shade is an exact match for the color of Logan’s eyes.
Like clockwork, I pull out more paints and set up my easel. I don’t realize what I’m doing until Logan’s face emerges from the splashes of color. Blue and peach and gold strokes come together and form the image of the man I love so much. As I add dimension to Logan’s luscious rosy lips, I hear my front door creaking open. Footsteps follow. Someone’s here.
Before he even calls out “hello,” before I turn around and see who has arrived, I know: it’s Logan. He’s back.
When I turn to greet him I have to do a double take—he looks exactly like the painting. I don’t know if my accuracy is more eerie or impressive.
“Come here,” I say, beckoning him closer. “I need to study the texture of those lips. It’s urgent.” I gesture at my work in progress.
Logan raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t seem bothered by my demand.
“Of course, Mr. Carpenter,” he leans in and grants me one quick kiss before breaking free from my hungry lips to continue his flirtatious teasing. “How could I deny such a handsome artist as yourself the opportunity for inspiration?”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” I murmur.
“Let’s stay on the same page. For the rest of our story. All the way until we reach the end.” After saying this, Logan peppers kisses up my neck, on my cheeks and around the edge of my eager mouth.
He’s utterly irresistible. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot,” I whisper before pulling him close and losing myself in his lips.
I can see the future ahead of us: the little details are blurry, but the big picture is clear. I can see that Logan and I will make each other happy for a very long time. I can see that we’ll drive each other crazy, too. But most of all, I can see flashes of color—bright, brilliant color—radiating off of my boyfriend.
I’ve seen a lot of fine art in my day… but Logan Lexington is the most magnificent masterpiece of them all.
22
LOGAN
“You’re spilling on yourself!” Ben exclaims. I look at the leaning champagne flute. Dammit, I am.
I dab my drink-drenched jacket with an embroidered napkin and return my attention to the mayor of San Francisco, Rebecca Reinhart. “Thank you again for coming, Mayor Reinhart. We’re so lucky to have you here at LexTech for the launch.”
“It’s an honor,” she responds, bowing her head politely. Then she pulls me close to whisper in my ear: “And between you and me, you’re the lucky one—I mean, look at that ass on your boyfriend! Damn. Nice catch.” I chuckle and we exchange mischievous grins.
The mayor is one of many VIPs assembled in Lexington Tower’s conference hall to celebrate our newest app: ConnectCare. This new platform a combines art therapy and meditation in remote, one-on-one sessions with licensed professionals. Our focus is to encourage struggling individuals around the world to work through their emotions in an artistic, therapeutic manner.
Even though ConnectCare is not for profit and I won’t earn a dime from it, I’ve been more passionate about this new app than any of our past projects. It’s very near and dear to my heart, and I’m not the only one: we’ve had a board of psychologists helping us at every step of the way, and Ben has been instrumental in researching art therapy movements and campaigning to schools across the country to use ConnectCare in their art curriculums.
I’m always confident in LexTech projects, but especially this one. Every single beta user has contacted us ranting and raving about how helpful the therapy sessions are. LexTech has even won prestigious awards and featured on the covers of magazines like LIFE and TIME because of ConnectCare.
And it’s all thanks to Ben: he gave me perspective on what was important in this world. Ben Carpenter opened my eyes and showed me there was more to care about than making money. Like making a difference.
Ben. I reach down to grab his hand and squeeze it tightly, lacing my fingers around Ben’s. I do this countless times every day, just to remind myself how lucky I am to have this magnificent man in my life. Touching my boyfriend hasn’t gotten old: if anything, our love has aged like a fine wine. Every moment we spend together, I become more enamored.
“Great party,” Ben whispers in my ear before kissing me on the cheek.
“It’s fabulous, but I’d much rather be celebrating privately with you and a bottle of lube at home,” I growl softly and wink. He giggles and kisses me again.
“Well, if it isn’t the great philanthropist himself!” The voice of my cousin, Liam, comes from behind us. I turn around and greet him and his husband Ty with a smile and kisses on the cheek. “Great to see you again, Ben!” My cousin exclaims before wrapping my boyfriend up in a tight hug.
Ben and Ty share an enthusiastic
fist bump. I introduced Ben to Ty and Liam on the couple’s last trip to San Francisco for Liam’s profile of LexTech, and the three became fast friends. It warms my heart to see my loved ones carrying on so well.
“I’m so glad you guys could make it,” Ben gushes. “I still can’t believe you flew all the way to the west coast just for a launch party.”
“And unicorn cupcakes,” Ty interjects. “We can’t forget the unicorn cupcakes.” He’s got a point: those desserts are pretty spectacular.
“I’m always game to tease my favorite cousin in person,” Liam adds. “Now you two just need to visit us in New York!”
“We’d love to!” Ben and I exclaim in unison. We turn to each other, both surprised by the serendipitous moment, then giggle and share another kiss.
Suddenly, a voice pipes up in the crowd. “Speech, Logan!”
I shake my head to protest but the entire room joins in chanting: “Speech, speech, speech!” Ben smiles devilishly and pushes me towards a podium in the center of the room. He gives me a reassuring squeeze of the hand and then lets go as I prepare to address the crowd.
I’ve done this so many times in my career: stand in front of a sea of faces and sell the shit out of whatever it is I’m hawking. But today is different. Today, I’m not hoping to turn a profit or secure an investment. Nor am I planning on poking fun at the wire fraud charges Dalton Elijah, the disgraced former CEO of Photogram, is facing.
All I plan on doing is speaking from the heart. I take one more breath and begin my speech.
“This foundation is young, but ConnectCare has already made a difference in the lives of so many individuals in need. We’re ushering in a revolution in therapy, art, and social media. And none of this incredible transformation would be possible if it weren’t for my boyfriend: Ben Carpenter.” Ben looks surprised. His face goes red while the entire crowd turns towards him and showers him with applause. I shoot him a quick wink and continue. “Ben, remember when I told you I was a terrible artist? I wasn’t lying. As you well know by now—you’ve seen me try to play Pictionary.” I pause while the room roars with laughter.