by Jet Mykles
“I’m not sure how my parents will take it.”
Noble edged away so he could see the thoughtful look on Foxy’s face.
“They’ll probably be okay with it. Surprised but…” He shrugged.
“You’re lucky.”
“Yeah. They’re pretty cool. My mom’ll love you.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. She loves music. She’s already a big Heaven Sent fan. I know she likes your album.”
“Well. She has good taste.”
Chuckling, they merged into lazy, drawn-out kisses that had no purpose other than to enjoy the feel of one man with another.
“You think this is going to work?” Noble asked, feeling sleep encroaching.
“Has to,” Foxy stated, snuggling close. “I hate being without you.”
Chapter Sixteen
The secret bliss lasted a little more than a week. A few hours before the second night in Phoenix, Noble saw the picture in his news feed.
Criminea’s Donny Foxley caught kissing Indigo Knights drummer Noble Welbourn. Is he gay?
The photo was blurred, but there was no doubt it was them. Someone had snapped a picture of them in the bright sunlight right in front of Foxy’s house. Noble’s hair glowed purple in the sun, and Foxy was angled so his profile was obvious. Only Noble’s driver that morning could have taken the picture. Unless you knew to look for it, you wouldn’t even notice the car’s frame at the bottom corner.
Noble sat in the VIP lounge of the hotel, the remains of his lunch on the table beside him. Lance sat reading to his right, and Rabin was across from them playing a game on his tablet.
“Well, fuck.”
That got their attention.
With a sigh, he handed his phone to Lance.
Who took one look, cursed, and sat forward. “Fuck.”
Rabin set down his tablet. “What?”
Lance handed the phone to him while turning to Noble. “What are you going to do?”
Noble stared at the phone in Rabin’s hands. “I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He and Foxy had been in frequent contact over the last few days. Foxy had already talked to his agent like Gordon had suggested, and they were figuring out a plan. Looks like the plan had been shot to hell.
Rabin handed the phone back. “You should call him.”
“Excellent idea.” Concentrating on his phone, aware of his friends watching him, Noble dialed Foxy.
“Hey.”
“Did you see it?”
Foxy sighed heavily. “You saw it.”
“Yeah. Did you know?”
“No. I only saw it a little while ago.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I…” Foxy spoke a few muffled words, obviously to someone else. “Sorry, I’m with Murray.” His agent. “I was in an interview, and they asked me about it.”
“They asked you about it.”
“Yeah. I was set up.” Foxy sounded out of breath, frustrated. “I blanked. I didn’t know what to say.”
Noble stared at the floor, unable to look at his friends. “What did you say?”
“It was fucked up. That bitch totally talked me into a corner.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her. I admitted it. I said I loved you and I wanted to be with you.”
Shocked, Noble raised his face. First he saw Rabin, whose eyes rounded at the sight of his expression. Then Lance crowded in beside him, clearly bursting with suppressed questions.
“You did?”
“I’m sorry. I know that’s not what we talked about. But she was being such a bitch about it, if I hadn’t admitted it, it would have come out like what we have is dirty or something.”
“Wow.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Shut up. Don’t be sorry. You didn’t hurt me.” On the contrary, despite the gravity of the exposure, he was delighted with Foxy’s admission. “What about you? What about your contract?”
“That’s why I’m with Murray. He’s making calls and trying to figure it out and…” Heavy sigh. “Fuck. This is so fucked up.”
Noble gripped the arm of his chair, aching for the man he loved. “I’m so sorry, babe. I wish I could help.”
“Fuck helping. I just want you here. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“What time do you go on tonight?” Foxy said.
“Eight.”
“Okay. I’ll call you if there’s anything new.” Another sigh. “You’ll probably get asked about it if the press find you.”
“Right.” Noble hadn’t left the hotel since last night, which had to be the reason they hadn’t found him. He wondered that Gordon hadn’t heard yet, but he’d find out why soon enough. “What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say that you love me and you miss me.”
Noble had to smile. “That’s the truth. But what does your agent say?”
“Hold on.”
While Foxy talked to his agent, Noble filled in his friends. Both of them swore, and Lance got on his phone, probably calling Gordon.
“Noble?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“He says you might as well admit it now. If you didn’t, it’d make me look like I was lying. At least if you say the same thing, then it looks like we’ve got something real.”
“Then that’s what I’ll say.”
“Do you mean it?”
The world stilled. “What?”
“This isn’t how we wanted it.” Foxy sounded so very desperate, his voice small. “Do you still want to be with me?”
“Fuck you. How can you ask me something like that?” Then Noble heard how an insecure man might hear those words. “I love you. Do you hear me? I don’t care that this blew up. The only way that this is hurting me is that it’s hurting you. I’m perfectly happy for everything to be out in the open.” Stray thoughts about whether Foxy’s love would weather the storm occurred to him, but Noble shoved them away since there was nothing to be done about it until everything blew over.
“I love you too.” The words were said in a relieved rush. “I’ll make this right.”
“You just do what you have to, to keep out of trouble. Call me when you can.”
“I will.”
“Love you.” Noble felt the need to repeat himself.
“Love you too.”
“Now hang up.”
Foxy chuckled, a welcome sound. “All right.” Then he was gone.
“Gordon’s on his way down,” Lance told him as Noble set his phone in his lap. “He was taking a nap.”
Noble nodded understanding.
Lance squeezed his arm. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He held on to his phone as if it were his only conduit to Foxy. “I just wish he didn’t have to go through this.”
“He’ll be fine,” Rabin assured him. “What can the producers do to him? Really?”
Noble shrugged. They hadn’t known before, and they didn’t know now.
But they’d find out soon enough.
Chapter Seventeen
“May I show you something?”
Noble’s eyes narrowed, his fingers clutching the edges of Gordon’s tablet as he watched the video of Foxy’s interview with SpEye, an online site of so-called entertainment news. “What the hell is he even doing interviewing with this bitch?” Noble grumbled to no one in particular. He’d never liked the site before, and recent events had certainly not improved his opinion.
Lance squeezed the shoulder he was leaning over, but neither of them spoke further as the bitch handed Foxy a glossy 8 x 10 photograph. On-screen, the picture flashed to the snapshot of Foxy and Noble kissing, then went quickly back to capture Foxy’s reaction to what he saw. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips. The photo in his hand shook a little as he held it. That calm, almost uncaring look he usually wore in public cracked, and real panic filled his eyes for a brief moment before he could recover himself.
Foxy frowned at the interviewer. “Whe
re did you get this?”
“Is that you in this picture with Noble Welbourn?”
The feed hadn’t budged from his face, capturing all his reactions. He said nothing, clearly thinking hard. It was obvious that if he could have launched himself at the woman, he might have choked her with his bare hands. The look he’d been paid to portray in the Criminea movies when his character confronted the villain paled in comparison.
“Donny, are you gay? Does Maritza know about this?”
“Low blow,” Lance murmured.
Noble muttered a few choice curses. Just a few minutes prior, she’d grilled Foxy on his relationship with Mari, which Noble thought he’d handled rather well. Any reference to a romance had been played down, and all of what he’d said could apply to a really good friendship or maybe the start of something more. He’d been vague but suggestive. Good thing he had been, because here the interviewer intended to paint him a liar.
Foxy glanced at the camera, then dropped his gaze as he began to stand. “This interview is over.”
“Donny, are you ashamed of being gay? Did Noble force you into something?” The woman’s voice was so ridiculously melodramatic.
Foxy’s eyes went wide in instant rage. “What the
“Oh shit.” Noble grunted, seeing the switch flip in his lover. It was enough for Foxy to forget he was on camera. Just as the bitch had intended.
“He didn’t force me into anything. If anything, it was the other way around,” the words poured out.
“You came on to him?” asked the woman’s voice, the camera still trained on Foxy.
“I love him.” Statement. The expression on his face leaving no doubt. Then he came back to himself, realized what he’d done. The panic circled his eyes again, and he went pale. Quickly, he reached up to snatch off his microphone, but not before adding, “There. Happy birthday.”
Noble had to laugh as the clip ended. “‘Happy birthday’? That’s my man.” Despite the gravity of the situation, he felt good. Watching Foxy declare his love had filled Noble with silly joy that he couldn’t quite contain. Unfortunately, the joy was clouded by a sick feeling, knowing Foxy was suffering because of this.
Noble handed the tablet over his shoulder to Lance, who gave it back to Gordon. Gordon cradled it in one hand while he took a seat next to Noble on the couch. The three of them were alone in a small office down the hall from the greenroom, about to go to an interview themselves. The band was done with their sound check, and Heaven Sent was onstage now, doing theirs. Gordon had brought Noble here so he could watch the interview in private.
“Have you heard from him?” Gordon asked.
“Nope.” Noble drew his phone out of his pocket to check. Again. Nothing from Foxy, but there were a bunch of voice-mail messages and texts from other friends asking if he’d seen or heard the news. He hadn’t answered any of them. “Nothing.”
“Have you tried calling him?”
“No. He’s going through enough. He doesn’t need me hounding him.”
“He might want you to,” Lance suggested softly, standing behind the couch and leaning on the back.
“He knows where I am.”
“Poor kid.” Lance sighed. “This’s gotta be hard on him.”
Noble scrolled through his list of text messages, scanning them more for something to look at than to really read them. “Yep.”
Gordon’s voice was kind, his hand on Noble’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
Noble shrugged. “I’m fine. This is awesome for me. It’s not my career that’s going to suffer. Hell, I probably just got a huge publicity bump. Am I right?”
Gordon shrugged. “We’ve gotten some added attention.”
“Of course we have.” Noble still couldn’t put a lid on the gleeful little bubble, but he did feel guilty about it. Here he was, feeling no pain, and he had no idea what kind of hell Foxy was going through.
“Hey.” Gordon grabbed Noble’s hand to force him to put down the phone. “You know we’ve got your back, right?”
“I know that, yeah.”
“And because you love him, you know we’ve got the Foxy’s back too, right?”
Noble had to smile, as he usually did when one of his friends referred to his lover as the Foxy. It just never got old. “Thanks.”
Gordon smiled with him. “No worries. We’ll get you through this. But”—he stood—“you’ve got work to do.”
“Yeah. Great.” The interview had been scheduled weeks ago for the local television station. Bet they were pissing their pants at getting first chance at Noble after the great reveal. Reluctantly, he got to his feet. “Wonder if they’ll ask me about it.”
“You can bet they’ll ask about it,” Gordon assured him, eyes already on his phone. “I’ve been getting calls all morning. They’ve made sure that you, specifically, will be there.”
“Lucky me.” Noble grabbed his blue leather vest and shrugged it on over his stretched and worn green tank top. A glance in the mirror showed his hair in artful disarray over the right side of his head, the left side cleanly shaven again. He’d shoved silver earrings into every hole he had and strapped silver and leather armbands around his biceps and wrists. Not one but two completely unnecessary belts were wrapped around the waist of his black jeans, and if he could have found boots that were more shit kicker, he would have worn them. Hell, his eyes were even lined with black, and he’d selected bright orange contacts shot through with red, his new favorite pair. There wasn’t much more armor he could put on. It was over-the-top, but he didn’t care. If he was going to be the bad boy who turned the innocent young film star gay, he’d look the part.
They met Danny and Rabin just down the hall from the room where the interview was to be held. The open door twenty feet away showed the room full of people and equipment. Noble normally didn’t mind interviews and usually found them fun, but this one he dreaded.
Rabin squeezed his shoulder, and Danny gave him an encouraging smile. Noble smiled back and nodded, then went ahead and led the way into the viper pit. All eyes were on him when he crossed the threshold. A long couch was clearly for them, beside a matching seat where it looked like the interviewer would sit. The man in the suit and tie was probably their guy, and the avid, hungry look in his eye pretty much cinched it.
Gordon came up behind Noble to guide him to the couch, then practically shoved him down in the middle of it. Just by pointing, he got Danny and Lance to sit between Noble and the interviewer, with Rabin on his other side. Noble grinned as the techs came forward to fit them with microphones. His friends were looking out for him yet again, surrounding him. If he were the sentimental type, he might shed a tear. Good thing he wasn’t. While the techs were busy, he noted that there were at least two others who looked like reporters on the fringe of the crowd, one with a recorder and one with a notebook. Looked like some other tabloids had joined the fun.
Noble pretended to ignore them while watching the tech crew go about their business. It amused him that they almost always had to make adjustments because of either his hair or Danny’s. His was often too dark to pick up the indigo, so that it just looked black, and Danny’s was often too bright, the platinum glowing in the harsh lighting. But the professionals always managed to get things settled, and finally the interviewer came forward to introduce himself. Osmond was his name, and he was on the local daily news rag. Noble tuned out the details in favor of watching him avoid eye contact—at least, he avoided Noble. Saving his juicy tidbit for later.
When he went away, Danny leaned over Lance to murmur to Noble. “You want to talk, or you want me to?”
Noble shrugged, leaning back on the scratchy couch. “You go ahead. Let ’im ask if he’s gonna ask.”
Danny nodded, then resumed his seat. As the lead singer, he’d become accustomed to doing most of the talking, and his bandmates were more than happy to let him.
The interview started. Noble waited. He wondered if the guy thought they were fooled, thought h
e wasn’t interested in the thing that everyone wanted to know. He chatted with Danny about the tour, the album, Heaven Sent, the fans, all the normal stuff. Rabin chimed in on a few questions. Lance didn’t, but he was known for being quiet. Noble wasn’t, but he decided to just wait for his cue. The bright lights kept him from seeing much on the faces of the people in the room. He couldn’t see the other two reporters as more than shadows beyond the lights. Gordon had disappeared, which wasn’t odd. He’d be close, probably on the phone.
“So, Noble…”
He curled one side of his mouth and waited.
The guy had an attractive smile. It didn’t match the snake eyes above it. “There’s been some recent news that involves you.”
Noble kept waiting. No way he was going to help the guy out.
Osmond didn’t miss a beat. “Are the rumors about you and Donny Foxley true?”
“Which rumors are those?” Noble asked, way too nicely.
“Are you and he a couple?”
“Yes. We are.”
Osmond blinked. Apparently he hadn’t expected a straightforward answer. “But isn’t he already dating Maritza Wesker, his costar?”
“They’re very good friends.” Was it bad of him to like saying that? Usually it was the gay guy who had to be the friend.
“But was he gay before he met you?”
Noble opened his mouth to answer, but someone else beat him to it.
“No. I wasn’t. At least, I didn’t know I was.”
Everyone turned around, even the cameraman. Noble had to shade his eyes against the bright lights to see the man just inside the doorway, but that voice was etched in his soul. Foxy came forward into the light, and hot damn did he look fine. He wore a shiny black dress shirt shot through with shimmering purple, half unbuttoned over a simple white T-shirt. His dark curls framed that gorgeous face that just might have some makeup on it to enhance those enchanting brown eyes. He looked every inch the dashing young movie star and held himself with all the proud assurance that went with it.
Noble sat up but didn’t stand, not sure what Foxy had in mind. Osmond stood, flustered, but Foxy only had eyes for Noble as he came forward.