Infamous

by Jenny Holiday

  Except . . . nothing was the same.

  That kiss had happened seven months ago—not that he was counting—but it had changed everything.

  For example, he couldn’t look at Hunter’s lips anymore, forming that innocent, one-syllable hey without remembering how soft they’d been under his. Without imagining how they would feel roaming all over his body.

  It had been a very long seven months.

  Hunter looked at his watch. “You’re early.”

  “I’m not early. It’s seven thirty. You were off at seven.” Then he added his usual adage: “All work and no play makes Dr. W. a dull boy.”

  Which was hilarious because Hunter Wyatt was many things, but dull was decidedly not one of them. His stupid golden eyes positively glittered, for fuck’s sake, as he started shutting down his computer.

  “I have an idea for the Junos,” he said, grinning, and even his teeth gleamed.

  “Yeah?” Jesse said warily. He was going to the Juno Awards next week, though not because the band was up for any awards. They didn’t have any eligible music this year, but they were going to debut the first single from the new record in advance of a North American tour that would start in a couple of weeks.

  Jesse was also going to present an award, and Hunter had been trying to talk him out of his customary red-carpet attire, which was basically a slightly less messy version of his standard outfit. He was planning on wearing nicer, darker jeans than usual; a plain black T-shirt; and his leather jacket.

  Hunter picked up his work bag and a garment bag. “You can’t wear that jacket to the Junos.”

  “It’s not the Grammys,” Jesse said. The Canadian music industry awards show had nowhere near the profile of its American counterpart. Nobody outside of Canada paid attention to the Junos, except to the extent that they sometimes imported a big-name American star to host.

  “That’s not the point.” Hunter locked his office door and nodded for Jesse to precede him down the hallway. “It’s an honor to be asked to present. And anyway, I happen to know you wore that jacket to the Grammys that time you were up for Best New Artist.”

  Jesse flushed with pleasure over the idea that Hunter knew what he’d worn to an awards ceremony that had occurred before they’d become friends.

  He fucking flushed with pleasure. Another example of how things had changed beneath the surface. He performed a shrug meant to convey unconcern. “I’m a rock star. People expect me to look a certain way.”

  People expect me to act a certain way.

  And playing that role had brought him success beyond his wildest dreams. As Matty was forever reminding him when he jokingly called him his “star pupil.”

  They exited the hospital, and Jesse scanned the street. A group of twentysomethings were headed toward them, but he didn’t think they’d seen him yet. It would only be a matter of time, though.

  Hunter reacted seemingly automatically, gently pushing Jesse back under the protective awning of the side door they’d used to exit the hospital. “Wait here.” Then he hailed a cab, and, once the car was stopped, he opened the back door and held out his hand, gesturing for Jesse to precede him into the back seat.

  It was . . . really nice. To be taken care of like that. To have someone who wasn’t on his payroll instinctively anticipate his needs. To be protected.

  Hunter gave the cabbie Jesse’s address.

  “My place?” he asked.

  “We’ll order food,” Hunter said. “Humor me.”

  “Go get your nicest jeans and nicest black shirt.” Hunter, reclined on Jesse’s bed, pointed at Jesse’s closet.

  Jesse shot Hunter a skeptical look but moved to follow his orders.

  Hunter had probably overstepped.

  Hell, there was no “probably” about it. As Hunter waited for Jesse to reemerge, he started to backpedal.

  “You know what? This was a bad idea. You have your thing, and it’s obviously working for you.” It was. It totally was. Jesse exuded sex appeal and easy confidence. “Why mess with success?”

  “Nah, we’re here,” Jesse called. “Might as well hear your big idea. As long as it doesn’t involve a tie. I’m allergic to ties.” He came out of the closet shirtless. Shirtless! Once again, what the hell had Hunter been thinking?

  Jesse walked over to Hunter and flicked his tie. “You’re always well put together, Doc, so hit me.” He gestured at himself. “These are the nicest jeans I have. Will they do?”

  Hunter, resigned to his fate, tore his gaze from Jesse’s chest and studied the dark jeans that were, indeed, much nicer than Jesse’s usual ripped, grungy pairs. “They’re perfect.”

  “And I have this or this.” He held up two T-shirts in turn.

  Hunter took them both. “I think this one,” he said. It was an Armani made out of a stretchy fabric, and it looked like it had never been worn.

  “Yeah, I think that was left over from some photo shoot or other.” Jesse grabbed it from Hunter and lifted his arms to put it on, which had the effect of displaying his whole torso. As he stretched, his muscles rippled, and Hunter had to restrain himself not only from asking about the tattoos, which was bad enough, but from outright touching them. His fingers itched.

  “All right,” he said once Jesse was decently clothed again. “Now don’t freak out when you see this.” He unzipped the garment bag to reveal a royal-blue velvet blazer. “Jimi Hendrix wore velvet jackets all the time.”

  The jacket suited Jesse perfectly. It was formal, but paired with jeans, the overall effect would be totally badass. He didn’t expect Jesse to agree, though, not at first, anyway. He braced himself for derision, or at least incredulity.

  But Jesse tilted his head, regarding the garment, and said, “Huh.”

  “No tie,” Hunter said, seizing the opening. “You wear it over the T-shirt and jeans. And check this out.” He flipped open one side of the blazer. It was lined with a silk fabric printed with tiny guitars.

  “Holy shit.” Jesse came forward to feel the blazer. “Where did you find this?”

  “Oh, you know.” Hunter shrugged. “I’m connected.” The truth was when he’d been hanging with the band and listening to the other guys talk about their Juno wardrobes—the others weren’t as resistant to cleaning up as Jesse was—he’d immediately pictured Jesse in a royal-blue blazer. And when he’d found this particular one on a vintage website? Forget it.

  “Try it?” He held it up for Jesse, who nodded and shrugged into it, murmuring his thanks.

  Hunter looked around for a mirror, but there wasn’t one.

  “Sorry, no mirror here,” Jesse said, reading his mind. Of course, Jesse wasn’t the kind of guy who needed a mirror. He just rolled out of bed looking like his usual irresistible self. “How do I look?” He spun around.

  “Amazing,” Hunter said, and it was the truth. “Like yourself, but with a little edge of glamor. But not like you’re trying too hard.” He hesitated before adding, “And that blue really makes your eyes pop.” When Jesse didn’t say anything, just stood there looking at Hunter with an inscrutable expression, he said, “Check yourself out in the bathroom.”

  “Nah, I don’t need to. I’m gonna take your word for it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, who needs a mirror when I’ve got you, Doc? Me with an edge of glamor? I’ll take it.” He wiggled his arms a little. “This is actually surprisingly comfortable.”

  The doorbell rang, which was for the best because Hunter had no idea how he was going peel his eyes away from Jesse Jamison, shimmying in his new blue jacket, otherwise.

  “That was fast,” Jesse said. Hunter had ordered pizza when they’d first arrived.

  “I’ll get it while you change.” Hunter turned for the stairs.

  He dug out his wallet while he swung open the door to reveal a woman and a little boy.

  “Oh,” he said, “hi.”

  The woman’s eyes darted around. She was wary, confused. Her eyes were a telltale blue-green.

&n
bsp; He knew those eyes. This was—

  “Beth?” Jesse jogged down the last few stairs. “Beth! Gavin!” The delight in his voice was palpable, but it quickly turned to concern. “What’s wrong? Why do I suspect you’re not just paying me a surprise visit?”

  She burst into tears.

  “Bethie.” Jesse pulled her in over the doorstep and gathered her in a hug. He turned an apprehensive gaze to his nephew, who remained on the porch.

  Hunter, galvanized, leaned over. “Hey, Gavin, my name is Hunter. You wanna come in?”

  The boy was skeptical. He looked so vulnerable, weighed down by a backpack that was almost as big as he was. Hunter’s heart twisted.

  “It’s okay, Gavin,” Jesse said, letting go of his sister. “Hunter’s my friend.”

  The boy must have decided that was enough of an endorsement, because he stepped over the threshold.

  “He canceled my cell service,” Beth said. “He somehow got my credit card canceled too, so I couldn’t get another phone. I tried to call from a pay phone, but I know you don’t pick up unknown numbers.”

  Jesse inhaled sharply and led Beth into the living room, his eyes scanning her body. “I do now. What happened? What did he do?”

  Beth glanced at Gavin.

  “Gavin,” said Hunter. “You know your Uncle Jesse has a sweet tooth, right? What do you say we go into the kitchen and see if we can find any ice cream? We have pizza coming soon, but I think it would be funny to start with dessert, don’t you?”

  The boy smiled. It looked strange on his face, which had been so serious and pinched until then.

  Jesse shot Hunter a grateful look and mouthed, Thank you, as Hunter led Gavin out of the room.

  Uncle Jesse had lived up to his reputation, and ten minutes later, Hunter and Gavin were tucking into bowls of mint chocolate chip with Hershey’s syrup when Jesse popped his head into the kitchen.

  “Hunter, any chance you can stay here with Gavin for an hour or two?”

  “Of course.”

  Beth came in too, and Jesse introduced them.

  “Sorry for the dramatic entrance,” she said.

  Hunter waved away the apology. “Hey, no problem.”

  “We’ll be right back,” Jesse said to Beth, then he towed Hunter out of the kitchen.

  “He took Gavin from school on a day that wasn’t his. She went to pick Gavin up, and panicked when he wasn’t there. Turned out her ex was watching her from his car the whole time. Thought it was hilarious. Then he canceled all her accounts—they were joint, and she hadn’t taken him off any of them.”

  “Jesus,” said Hunter.

  “I want her to talk to a lawyer—a different lawyer than the asshole who isn’t getting shit done in Montreal—and she’s agreed. Her ex still won’t sign the divorce papers. And they’ve been operating on this informal custody agreement, but it’s time to get the courts involved. I texted Matty, and he’s getting someone lined up to meet this evening.”

  “Good.”

  “But I don’t think Gavin should be there for the lawyer stuff. Are you sure you’re okay with watching him?”

  “Of course. If Beth is cool with it.”

  “I told her you were a pediatrician. That’s like babysitting gold.”

  “Take as much time as you need. Gavin and I have ice cream, pizza’s on the way, and I assume your giant-ass TV comes with a kids’ channel or twenty.”

  “Thank you,” said Jesse urgently, his voice going scratchy. Then he said it again, more softly, as he laid his hand on Hunter’s arm. “Thank you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

  Jesse’s surge of emotion was contagious. “I . . .” Hunter didn’t finish verbalizing the thought that had bubbled up. He said, merely, “Good luck.” But the thought was still there, simmering under his skin.

  I would do anything for you.

  “He’s finally asleep,” said Beth a week later, tiptoeing down the stairs to join Jesse and Hunter, who were sacked out on Jesse’s couch. Jesse was surfing the web on an iPad and Hunter was reading a medical journal.

  “Nice job.” Jesse raised his hand for his sister to high-five.

  Gavin had been having trouble sleeping. He didn’t want to be left alone, and Jesse couldn’t blame him. The whole fake kidnapping, power-tripping stunt his dad had pulled had no doubt freaked him out.

  Jesse scooted closer to Hunter to make room for his sister on the sofa. “Let’s watch a movie.”

  It was strange having so many people in his house. Jesse lived in a small house tucked up against one of the city’s ravines. It was a pretty secluded place, by design. He wasn’t a condo person, so as soon as he could afford it, he’d settled in this ravine-adjacent neighborhood that housed Toronto’s wealthiest citizens. His neighbors were CEOs, pro athletes, and the denizens of Toronto old-money society—people who understood the importance of privacy. Most of them had mansions; he had an incongruous little 1920s Tudor, but it suited him fine. It did the trick for when he couldn’t be at the cottage.

  He had his sister and Gavin in the guest bedroom, and Hunter was coming over most nights after work to help out. He’d made himself indispensable when it came to Gavin, logging major hours with the kid while Jesse accompanied his sister to meetings with her new lawyers, who were doing their best to untangle Beth from her husband as rapidly and decisively as possible.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the Junos?” Beth asked as Jesse pulled up Netflix.

  “The Junos are tomorrow.”

  “Right. So, shouldn’t you be, like, getting your nails done and your aura cleansed?”

  His sister couldn’t keep a straight face while she razzed him. He liked it. Historically, she’d always made fun of his fame. This week, though, she’d been dead serious about everything. Joking had disappeared from her repertoire, which was understandable given the situation. It was nice to see some of her old humor coming back, even if it was at his expense.

  “The Junos will be lucky if he takes a shower,” Hunter said.

  “Hey!” Jesse said, affecting outrage. “I plan on showering.” He smirked. “I might even wash my hair.”

  “Your starlet du jour will thank you,” Beth said. “Who is your starlet du jour, anyway?” she asked, glancing between Jesse and Hunter.

  “If you mean who is my date for the show, it’s Penny Marks.”

  “I have no idea who that is.”

  “Up-and-comer on the label,” Jesse said. “Her debut album came out earlier this year. Matty thinks we have synergy.” Whatever that meant.

  Beth picked up her phone and, after a few moments of tapping, made a theatrical gagging noise. “What is she? Seventeen?”

  “She’s nineteen,” Jesse said defensively. He knew because he’d asked Matty the same question.

  “Why do you let them do this to you, Jesse?”

  “They’re not doing anything to me.” Jesse had to tamp down a flare of irritation. “I’m single; she’s single. I’m a snarly rocker; she’s a little pop princess. People will get a charge out of the idea of us together. Everyone will sell some records. It’ll be fine.”

  Beth curled her lip. “I think you should take someone you actually know.”

  “You want to go?” he asked, startled. “I will totally throw Penny Marks over for you.” It had never occurred to him to ask Beth to accompany him to anything like this, asshole that he was, but maybe she would get a kick out of getting all dressed up and doing the red-carpet thing. Forget her troubles for a while.

  “Somehow, I think being seen on national TV isn’t going to be the best thing for me and Gavin right now, given that we’re, I don’t know, kinda hiding out from my evil soon-to-be-ex-husband?”

  “Right.” Okay, now he really was an asshole. How could he not have thought of that?

  “Take Hunter,” she said with what seemed to Jesse like oddly exaggerated casualness.

  “What?” he said, as did Hunter.

  “Yeah, you guys are besties, yes? You
’ll have more fun with him than with that teenager.”

  Jesse couldn’t argue with her. On either front.

  But he couldn’t do it.

  It was one thing for him to be photographed with Hunter in daily life. It didn’t happen a lot—he was pretty good at keeping his shit locked down—but it had happened a few times. The captions always said, Jesse Jamison and pal, or Jesse Jamison, band members, and an unknown friend. But that wasn’t how red-carpet events worked. People would find out Hunter’s name. They’d do some digging, and they’d find out that he was “Openly gay pediatrician Hunter Wyatt.”

  They’d start losing their shit over his gray hair and gold eyes and perfectly tailored suit.

  “No, no,” said Hunter in response to Beth, but he hadn’t demurred right away. There had been a few beats of silence while they’d both watched Jesse.

  Fuck.

  Did Hunter want to come to the awards show? Because it couldn’t happen. Jesse had no problem being friends with Hunter. Hell, he needed Hunter, basically. Wasn’t sure how he had functioned without him for so long.

  He just . . . couldn’t show up at something as high-profile as the Juno Awards with him. Matty would blow his top.

  And more importantly, Matty was right. Jesse hated that they lived in the kind of world where his success as a musician was dependent on his “image,” but it was what it was.

  That didn’t mean he wanted to spell it all out for Beth and Hunter, though.

  They were both looking at him. Waiting for him to say something.

  “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

  “Why?” Beth asked.

  Jesus. Was she going to make him say it?

  “Don’t worry about it,” Hunter said, and shame, heavy and ugly, uncurled in Jesse’s stomach, because Hunter knew what he wasn’t saying. He knew why Jesse couldn’t take him.

  They all knew.

  Well, that had been weird. It wasn’t like Hunter wanted to go to the Junos with Jesse. Per se. It had never even crossed his mind as a possibility.

  But did he want Jesse to want him to go to the Junos?

  He wasn’t sure.

  He certainly didn’t want Jesse to actively not want him to go to the Junos.