Our assigned seats are to the right of Rebecca Gordon and Spencer St. Germaine. Gunner and Kendall are seated to their left. As we scoot into the aisle, Kendall’s glare locks onto mine and Lauren’s clasped hands. I watch her lips twist into an irritated grimace. Gunner also notices the change in her demeanor. I’m relieved I’m not the only one. He mumbles a troubled “chill out” in Kendall’s direction. She lets out a vexed sigh followed by a muted, yet forceful, “Okay.”
The lot of us watch the show for a good hour as presenter after presenter calls the winners of various categories to the stage: Best Male Performance, Best Female Performance, Best Screenplay, Best Film, Best Director. Finally, the chairman of the Gay and Lesbian Cinema Committee gets to the Visibility Award, but not before going off on a tangent about how “it’s out of the usual practice of the committee to present accolades to the stars of a film that has not yet been released.” He goes on to laud Rebecca and Kendall for their poignant performance of two female characters who are struggling with the difficulties of living in the spotlight. Once he finishes his grand discourse, he calls Kendall and Rebecca up to receive their trophies. As they scramble their way onto the stage, the room rumbles with applause—mine included. Mr. Chairman hands them each a gilded bronze statuette, and the whole place goes silent in anticipation of their individual speeches.
Rebecca gives an unoriginal speech, thanking everyone involved with Idol Worship and her agent for bringing the role to her attention. She finishes, and Kendall steps up to the microphone.
“I’d just like to say, I’ve come to realize the importance of LGBT characters being represented in films and on TV, because visibility really does matter. When audiences get to see LGBT characters dealing with the same tough issues as everyone else, when audiences get to know and love those characters, I believe it’s the most humanizing thing in the world. I’m proud to have had the opportunity to play a wounded yet very real character in Idol Worship, and I am truly grateful to the Gay and Lesbian Cinema Committee for recognizing the deeper message of the film. Thank you.”
If the theater was loud before Kendall’s speech, now it is downright thunderous. Every single person in the room is on his feet, clapping and cheering. The raucousness continues right up to the second Rebecca and Kendall get back to their seats. Kendall graciously bows her head and lifts her hands, miming the classic signal to “settle down.” I’m staring at her in awe, surprised at the passion she’s displayed, when Lauren—still clapping, herself—leans in close to me. “Beautiful speech,” she says cynically. “It’s so nice to see how proud she is to have played a LGBT character. She’s gay, for fucks sake.”
“Okay. First, that’s for her to say, not for you, me or anyone else. Second, considering you and I both know how difficult it can be for openly LGBT people, I’m surprised at your attitude.”
“I’m just saying. How long can this go on, really? The very definition of fame is that everyone in the world either knows your business or tries to know it.”
“Give her a break, all right?”
“Okay. We’ll see how much of a break you’ll want to give her in a few minutes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask defensively. The crowd’s cheering has long since ceased; my voice reverberates, unobstructed, throughout the auditorium. I blush in recognition of my volume.
“Nothing,” she whispers. “Forget I said anything.”
“All right, everybody,” the voice of the host blares through the sound system. “We’ve reached the part of the evening where we stop talking and start doing. It’s time to auction off some celebrity kisses!”
Lauren turns her attention to the stage, abruptly putting an end to our conversation. I’m all too thankful for the interruption. “As you all know, the proceeds of this auction go to various charities, including the California Equality Project and the True Colors Higher Education Fund. Without any further ado, I invite tonight’s participating celebrities to take the stage.”
From my peripheral view, I see Kendall stand up. She makes her way down the row, pauses to talk to me as she reaches my seat. “It’s just for charity. Don’t be upset.”
Upset? Does she really think I’ll be upset about her kissing some rich fool for charity? What am I, a jealous child? Or some kind of asshole who isn’t interested in helping my community? “It’s fine,” I wave her off. “Go be altruistic.”
Kendall takes the stage again, along with two other people—a singer named Lenore and some football player I’ve never heard of whose team is the Los Angeles Crusaders. The host opens the auction with Lenore. A flurry of bids descends on the host, who seems so overwhelmed that he can hardly keep track. The winning bid of $2,900 goes to a woman seated a few rows behind me. She screams in delight after the host tells her to come down to the stage and stand next to Lenore. The football player is auctioned next. A woman sitting way up in the nosebleed section wins with a bid of $3,700. She also squeals in excitement as she heads for the stage.
“Last, but never least, we have the lovely Kendall Bettencourt,” the host says. “She’s the star of the blockbuster film In Heaven’s Arms, and, as everyone here knows, winner of this year’s GLCC Visibility Award. Let’s begin the bidding at $1,000. Do I have a measly grand from anyone?”
A tide of chatter ripples around the room. From somewhere in the back of the theater, a man shouts, “Right here!”
“There we go! Can I get two? $2,000, people! Come on, Kendall’s dress is worth more than that!”
“Two thousand,” shouts a woman in the front-left of the auditorium. The original bidder ups his offer to $2,400 and a small bidding war ensues between the two. The highest bid comes from the woman; she’s gone up to $4,000. The man is about to make a counter offer, when a third voice chimes in.
“Eight thousand!” The voice belongs to a man. It sounds familiar and relatively close to me. I look over to my left, and lo and behold, Gunner is on his feet.
What the shit is this!
“Sold!” The host hollers. “Give it up for Mr. Gunner Roderick! Who knew he was such a romantic?”
The crowd goes wild as he heads for the stage. It seems like every last person in the theater is cheering him on—every last person save for me and Lauren. Lauren reaches for my hand. She slides her fingers between mine and holds firm. “It’s a publicity stunt,” she says. “Lawrence put them up to it. Are you all right?”
No, I’m not all right! We’re on shaky ground to begin with, and Kendall thinks she can just go around kissing people who aren’t me? I’ve tried to be understanding and supportive, if not downright accepting of this whole confusing thing, but I’m only human. We all have our breaking points, and I have unquestionably reached mine. “I need some air.”
“Okay,” Lauren jumps out of her chair, pulling me up with her. The last thing I see before we turn to leave the theater is Kendall’s face as pale as a cadaver’s.
We make a beeline for the doors leading to the street, but don’t stop until we’ve reached the sidewalk. “Breathe.” Lauren gently pats my back. “I know you’re shaken up, but I also know Kendall will be out here looking for you in about two minutes.”
“Oh, yeah? How do you know that?”
“Because she would be stupid not to.”
“Payton?” Kendall calls from the doorway. Lauren and I both turn to face her.
“That’s my cue to exit,” Lauren says, then starts toward the theater. She stops when she’s about six inches away from Kendall and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. I don’t think I’m supposed to hear her say it, but I do: “If you break her heart, I’ll be right here to pick up the pieces.”
“Don’t worry,” Kendall fires back. “I’ll never give you the chance.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kendall
Lauren’s snide remark angers me in the most dangerous sense of the word. Prior to this moment, I was unaware that anger had a flavor, but I guess there’s only so much the human body can take before i
t has to either explode into a fit of full-blown rage or find another way to expel the fury. To my surprise, rage has a metallic tang to it—something very similar to the taste of blood. Actually, it isn’t rage I’m tasting, after all. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve bitten my tongue.
Luckily, Lauren is smart enough to head inside before I let myself fly off the handle. She’s not the most important person I’m standing in front of, anyway. I take a quick step toward Payton and reach for her hand. She jolts away from me in a hurry. Oh Lord, please help me get out of the deep shit I’m in. “Payton, I am so sorry. Lawrence set it up and I–”
“Stop talking.” she interrupts, her voice so unforgivingly stern that it physically stings me. “‘It’s for charity. Don’t be upset!’ Well, I am upset! Maybe I’m overreacting, but I can’t help it!” Without warning she goes deathly quiet. The next thing I know, I’m watching tears assault her face. The shiny droplets fuse with her mascara and stain her cheeks with long, black smudges. Oh shit, I made her cry.
A putrefied glob of remorse congeals in my throat. Whatever you say, Kendall, it had better be damn good. “Acting like I’m with Gunner is easy… No, that’s not right. What I mean to say is, I just… I don’t know how to do this.” I sigh. “I don’t know how to balance being the huge superstar everyone thinks they know and who I truly am. It’s like I’m walking on a tight rope, and there’s no safety net beneath me. On one hand, I have all the people and things I’m told to care about, and on the other, I have all the people and things I actually care about. I feel like everybody in the world wants everything, every last part of me. But I’m not ready to give them all of me. I’m not even ready to be me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She wipes at her eyes with a shaky palm and fixes her gaze on me. “I get it. I’ve been where you are. It’s a process, coming to terms with yourself. But I’m not asking you to come bursting out of the closet on some nationally televised five o’clock news program. I’m asking you to tone down the façade a little bit. I don’t need to be by your side at premiers and parties, but I’m not okay with you going around kissing anyone who isn’t me.”
All right, that is a reasonable request. The idea of Payton kissing someone else is enough to break me. I don’t know what I’d do if it ever actually happened. “I swear I will never kiss anyone but you again. Lawrence can choose whoever he likes to be my escort, but I won’t let him talk me into doing anything that might upset you. And I’m going to make him clear my schedule for the rest of the week. I’m not leaving on Friday for a three-week promo tour without spending every second I can with you before I go.”
“What about the Ellie Nominations party tomorrow night? You can’t miss that. Even if you don’t get a nomination, you absolutely have to go. You have to go especially if you aren’t nominated. If you don’t at least make an appearance that would be like flipping the bird to the most important people in Hollywood. Then you definitely won’t get nominated for anything you do in the future.”
“I’ll go if you come with me,” I say, arms folded across my chest so she knows I’m serious.
She rolls her eyes. Her pupils reel so far back into her skull, I’m afraid they’ll get stuck there. “Oh, man, Lawrence will have a fit. He’s crafted this thing between you and Gunner so perfectly.”
“You’re right, he has crafted it perfectly. But I don’t give a shit. I want to go to the party with you.”
“Really?”
The question was posed in the faintest pitch, but hits me harder than a fist to the chin. “Of course.”
She sniffles. “Okay.”
I reach my hand out to her again. This time, she takes it. “Come here.” I pull her close to me and buff away the traces of her runny eye makeup with the pads of my thumbs. I realize we’re standing on the sidewalk of one of the most well-traveled neighborhoods of downtown LA, but right now I can’t afford to be concerned that some random passerby might recognize us as lovers. “Do you want to head back inside? The show is almost over. Or we could blow it off and go home.”
“Let’s go inside. It would look bad if you bolted from the theater and didn’t come back. You’d probably offend the entire gay community.”
“Hmm, yeah. That is not a good position to put myself in.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Okay, here’s the plan. We sit out the rest of the show then get out of there real quick before anyone else has the chance to. We hop in a cab and make our way home without any further badgering from the media, or anybody else.”
“Great plan. But what are you going to say to Lawrence when he calls you up later, bellowing about how you disappeared?”
“I’ll send him to voicemail.”
“Good. I don’t want his screaming at you impeding on my quiet cuddle time—which I am in dire need of, because my head is pounding harder than a sailor on shore leave.”
“Okay, it’s settled. If he calls me tonight, I’ll send him to voicemail. Now, let’s get the rest of this horrible evening out of the way.”
❄ ❄ ❄
We walk through the door of the penthouse literally twenty minutes after the show ends. The host said “good night,” and Payton latched onto my arm so quickly, it made my head spin. Before anyone else had the chance to exit the theater, I had already hailed a cab. It must have been destiny or an uncanny coincidence, because finding a cab in downtown LA is generally as easy as solving a Where’s Waldo puzzle. I never was any good at spotting that elusive little bastard.
Payton drops her clutch on the coffee table and swiftly kicks off her shoes before flopping backward onto the couch. “I hope Lauren is all right,” she mumbles once I’m seated next to her.
Seriously? She’s worried about Lauren right now? I want to ask her what the hell that’s about, but opt not to; my drama quota for the night has been surpassed. “Lauren is fine. Gunner promised to get her home safely—not that I’m particularly fond enough of her to care at the moment.”
“Okay, you might not be fond of Lauren, but she’s my friend,” she reprimands me. “Do me a favor and try to be civil to her. Do yourself the favor. You still have to work with her on The Relishing, and it’ll probably be easier for both of you if you’re not at war with each other.”
Damn it. She has a point. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll pass the peace pipe or whatever tomorrow. Gunner is going to call you tomorrow, too. He wanted to apologize to you in person, but I told him he’d have to wait because we’re making a quick getaway.”
She doesn’t have the chance to respond before my phone starts to ring. I pluck it out of my purse and breathe an agitated sigh. “It’s Lawrence.”
“Give me that stupid thing!” She yanks the phone from my hand and prods at the end-call button until the screen goes black. She hands it back to me once she’s sure it’s turned off. “You can turn it on again before we go to sleep. I know tomorrow is a big day, and your ‘people’ will all have seizures if they can’t get in touch with you.”
“Thanks,” I chuckle. Then, for some weird reason, a memory from our childhood pops into my head and gets me laughing harder. Payton ruffles her eyebrows at me, wordlessly asking for an explanation. “Do you remember that time we were playing in my back yard? I think we were in, like, fourth grade—I jumped off the swing in mid-air, landed the wrong way, and fractured my ankle?”
“I remember you having a fractured ankle.”
“Yeah, but don’t you remember the rest of it? I screamed, and you jumped off your swing so fast to help me up. When you realized I was really injured, you sort of threw me on your shoulders and gave me a piggyback ride into the house. I was crying and scared, but you were so brave about it.”
“Oh, right! I carried you into the house, dropped you on the couch, and you called me your knight in shining armor. And then–”
“I kissed you. My mom ran upstairs to get her car keys so she could take me to the hospital, and I kissed you right on the lips.”
She snuggles far
ther into my embrace and laughs. “How could I have forgotten that?”
“I don’t know. That was our first kiss.”
“Does that count, though? I mean, we were nine.”
“It counted for me. From that moment on, I knew I was safe with you. Other than my dad, you’re the only person who has ever made me feel like nothing bad could happen to me.”
“I’m not actually a knight, and I definitely don’t have any shining armor, but I’m glad you feel safe with me.”
“I do. But right now, I’m also feeling very tired. Wanna go to bed?”
She stares at me for a while before hopping to her feet. She bends over, scoops me into her arms, and plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Fair lady,” she says in a horrible British accent. “I shall carry you to the ends of the earth! Or to our bed, whichever we should first encounter!”
❄ ❄ ❄
The persistent buzz of my Blackberry startles me awake from the sweetest dream. The fantasy of riding off into the sunset on horseback with Payton is still fresh in my mind when I notice the digital clock on the bedside table. It’s half past five in the morning. Whoever the hell is calling me better have something really important to say.
I fumble around in the darkness, determined to find my phone without having to turn on a single light. When I do ultimately find it, I rip it from the nightstand with an irrational viciousness. Damn it, I was enjoying that dream! I yawn as I check the caller ID. Home.
“Hello?” I ask groggily, my voice hoarse and thick with hints of sleep. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Payton stirring beneath the sheets. She has to be up for class in, like, an hour.
“Kendall, honey!” My mother’s voice bursts through the receiver. “Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, Mom, you did,” I cough. “What’s up?” I’m wracked with dread. There’s only one reason she would be calling me this early. Something must’ve happened to my dad. “Oh my god, is Daddy okay?”
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