Damage Control

by Lynn VanDorn

Purvi gave him an irritated look. “I did text you about it. And hey, maybe they aren't related.”

  Things were spiraling out of control again. Tyler stamped down on the urge to lock himself in his bathroom and cut. That wouldn't help right now, there was too much to do for him to indulge in that right now. He needed to focus. “Okay,” he said. “Cops first.”

  The police came and took their own pictures and took his statement. They asked if he had security cameras trained on the street and he had to confess that he did not.

  “Might want to fix that,” one of the cops said.

  No shit, Sherlock.

  “We'll keep an eye on the place for the next few days. Get those guys out there to disperse, too. You sure you’ve got no idea who did this?”

  Tyler shook his head. He didn't think his father was responsible for this. It wasn't his style, and the idea of Michael Koenig caring enough after all these years to come to California and fuck up his wall seemed ludicrous. His first thought had been of David, because this shit was just like him, but he'd heard through David’s friends that he'd moved back home years ago. Where, Tyler wasn't sure and didn't care, but it was somewhere back east.

  “There’s my ex,” he said. “This shit is just his style, but he's a long shot. We had a bad breakup and I had to get a restraining order. This was about three years ago and I heard he moved out of state. His name is David Nowak, but I don't think it's him, unless he's moved back. I think it's way more likely that this was some random homophobic asshole.”

  The cops left, assuring him that they’d look into it. Tyler wasn't going to hold his breath. They weren't going to find the perpetrator unless he walked into the police station and confessed. Still, he'd had to make a report. That taken care of, Purvi made tea and sandwiches and frowned at him until he ate his.

  It reminded him of Josh, and an overwhelming feeling of longing filled him. Tyler wanted Josh next to him, hand curled into his or resting on his leg, just sitting there next to him while Tyler dealt with this shit. Stupid. So stupid. But the desire to have Josh with him ached like a sore tooth.

  Oh, right. My knight in shining armor, there to save me because I'm oh-so-helpless. Tyler stomped down on his irritation. He didn't want to need Josh. He could fight his own battles, thank you all the same. He did not need his hand held or a shoulder to lean on or any of that bullshit.

  But I might want all those things anyway.

  That was too damn bad. If wishes were horses and all that jazz. Tyler shook himself and got down to business. He called his insurance company. He called a company to come and paint over his wall. He called his security firm to order and install cameras. He called Ryan, then he called his mother.

  “While you're making calls,” Purvi said, “call your publicist, too.”

  “About the graffiti?”

  “Nope, I've already talked to Tom about the wall. We've got some ideas about that, social media-wise, so you don't have to worry your pretty little head about it right now. We have that much under control. There's something else he wants to talk to you about, though.”

  “What?”

  “You'd know if your lazy ass ever checked the internet,” Purvi said. “Shit’s been a-brewing.”

  The bottom dropped out of Tyler’s stomach for the nth time that day. “What shit?”

  She gave him a look so chock-full of pity that it made him want to toss something at her head. “Just call him. I don't want to be the bearer of more bad news. I'll be in your office if you need me.”

  Great. Tyler took a deep breath, then called Tom.

  “When are you going back to Illinois?” Tom asked him.

  Tyler went blank. It was Tuesday. Purvi hadn't booked him a return ticket yet since he hadn't been sure how long he was going to stay. “I don't know. There are still a few things I need to take care of here. With the house and all.”

  “Look, you need to either bring the doctor to you or you need to go back to him.”

  “What?” Tyler asked, lost.

  “You should check the internet occasionally,” Tom said.

  “That’s what I pay Purvi for,” Tyler groaned. “Tom, just tell me what's up.”

  “There are pictures of you in O’Hare all by yourself looking extremely upset, all over the fucking internet.”

  “Um, yeah, I was at the airport. No one ever looks happy at the airport. And there were all these questions, stupid-ass questions, and I needed to get through security. Of course I looked upset.”

  “Just because you're feeling pissy doesn't mean you get to show it in public. Thanks to your lack of control over your emotions, there's now speculation that you and your boyfriend are having problems and that you coming home without him is a sign of relationship issues. It's all ‘trouble in paradise’ and ‘lover’s quarrel’ and insinuations that your boyfriend dumped you because of the video or the cutting or both. We have to fix this and we need to do it yesterday.”

  “Oh, fuck them,” Tyler said. “I had to come home to read for a part. Jesus fucking Christ.”

  “You look pissed-off in the airport photos and you declined to answer any questions. You’re supposed to smile and be charming and evasive, Tyler. You know this. I shouldn't have to be having this conversation with you. You're making my job harder than it has to be.”

  Tyler throttled down his first instinct, which was to start shouting at Tom. He wanted to insist it was all so much bullshit, but this was what he’d signed up for, wasn't it? The price of becoming famous was fame. He knew that, had known it from the start. “Okay, Tom, what do you want me to do?”

  “You and the doctor need to be in the same state as soon as possible and I want something spectacular when you're publicly reunited. You got me? Let me know if you're going to Chicago or if he's coming here, and I'll arrange to make sure there are plenty of people to witness and document it. I want something so heartwarming that even the most cynical pap will sigh and wipe away a tear. Are we clear?”

  “Like fucking crystal.” He hung up with Tom, then made the call he'd been both dreading and looking forward to all day.

  –—

  Wednesday, September 28th, 6:19 p.m.

  O’Hare airport

  Chicago, IL

  Tyler went to Josh and not the other way around. It was what made sense. Josh had to work, and besides, there was the wedding. Flying Josh out to California at this point would be counterproductive. Even so, there was a bit of Tyler that felt like a dog slinking back to his master after having slipped his leash, and he hated it. At the same time, he resented every minute and mile that separated the two of them. If that wasn't fucked-up he didn't know what was.

  Tyler hadn't lost that feeling of being very high up and about to fall with no net below to catch him. His stomach was in his throat, so all he could do on the plane was sip ginger ale and breathe slowly and count. He counted until the numbers ceased to have meaning, then he started counting from scratch all over again.

  Tyler thought grimly that he should have given into the urge last night to cut himself, damn Josh and damn his promise. He'd already broken it once, why had he still clung to it last night? One tiny slice, one soothing trickle of blood, and he wouldn't be this tense right now. All the paparazzi Tom had promised him would be waiting for him at O’Hare would see how tense he was and more rumors would fly. No one would believe he was happily in love.

  Happily in love. There was an oxymoron for you.

  Part of him wanted to go into the airplane bathroom and slice something open, but with what? He didn't even have a pen on him, or nail clippers. Nothing. He wanted to claw himself with his own blunt nails, but instead he gripped his armrest with one hand and sipped ginger ale and counted.

  “Don't like flying, do you?” asked his seatmate.

  Tyler didn't think the man recognized him. Maybe it was his lack of blue hair, but more likely he was the type of guy who’d never read a celebrity gossip column in his life and had never seen any of Tyler’s movies.

&
nbsp; Tyler eyed the man seated next to him. He guessed he was most likely an executive of some stripe, based on his suit and tie, which were of decent quality but dull as dishwater. It all screamed vice-president of human relations.

  “No, flying doesn't bother me normally. I'm not feeling well.” Tyler’s tone was not encouraging.

  “Sorry to hear that. Going home or visiting?”

  Tyler didn't want to talk to this guy, but he didn't want to count anymore, either. It wasn't helping. He wasn't even certain what was making him the most anxious: the “die faggot/die cocksucker” in blood-red paint, Tom’s anger at him for forgetting to be professional and knowing full well he'd fucked up, or the realization that been quietly dawning on him over the past few days. Tyler felt like nothing under him was solid, which was apt, seeing as he was in an airplane.

  “Both, I guess. I used to live there, but now I'm just visiting.”

  The man nodded. “I'm going home. I'll miss the Californian weather, that's for sure, but I can't imagine living there.” He grinned. “I'm just too Midwestern at heart, I guess. You still have family in Chicago? That's who you’re visiting?”

  God, would the guy not leave him alone? “My brothers,” he said. Then some devil made him add, “And my boyfriend.”

  “Oh.” The guy seemed to think about that for a second. He shook his head with disapproval and Tyler braced himself. “Long-distance relationships are difficult. You think you'll move back or he'll move out to where you live?”

  Tyler gaped at the man for a second, then shut his mouth. “Um, I don't know. I'm not sure.”

  “Well, good luck. I hope you work it out.” Then the guy went back to reading his book.

  “Thanks,” Tyler mumbled. He looked out his window and saw nothing but an endless expanse of thick, white clouds. He sipped his ginger ale. He thought about Josh. He thought about falling.

  After they landed and debarked, Tyler walked through the airport feeling like his skin was too tight and wanting to burst out of it. This was how he'd felt when he'd tried out for cheerleading, or the school play, or had his first audition. It was like when the principal said they were calling the police and his parents. It was the same as that morning when Mrs. Roth had marched him to Pastor Steve, or when Tyler had woken up the morning of an audition with a black eye, bruised ribs, and the realization that David would never, ever stop. There was a feeling of things on the cusp, of inevitable change, of uncertainty and hope and fear.

  This shouldn't feel so important. It was just an orchestrated photo-op. It was a bit of theater, and Tyler hadn't had performance nerves in years. It was just Josh. There was no reason to feel this unsettled.

  What if I fall?

  Josh would catch him because that's what he did. He rescued princesses from towers, elves from drowning, princes from nightmares, and actors from censure. He didn't even condone dragon murder.

  I don't want…

  Not want. Not anymore. The pertinent word now was need.

  I don't want to need.

  It was too late for that, though.

  Tyler took the escalator to the baggage claim area. He looked everywhere and saw only strangers, some hugging, some kissing, some shaking hands or waving. It was loud and chaotic and there were people everywhere.

  Then there he was. Tall, but not too tall. Curly dark hair barely tamed. Fluorescent lights glinting off glasses that were perched on his beak of a nose, the one Tyler adored and had wanted to kiss since he was thirteen. Josh. Looking but not seeing, until he did, and then a wide grin spread across his handsome face. Seeing him was so good that it physically hurt.

  Heedless of anyone around him, Tyler started running toward him. His fake boyfriend. His Josh. His. There were flashes of light in his peripheral vision, but he ignored them. All he saw was his target and he hurtled into his arms.

  As he launched himself at Josh, Tyler’s mind continued to fret at him. What if he doesn't catch me? What if he lets me fall? There were all those cameras waiting to document it, to snap wonderful pictures of Tyler sprawled in a miserable heap at Josh’s feet

  But his fake boyfriend had seen and was braced for impact. He took Tyler’s weight like it was nothing. Josh’s arms went around Tyler and held him tight while his mouth found Tyler’s lips and ate at them like he was starving. There were more flashes of light and questions that he didn't hear and wolf whistles.

  Josh put him down and said, “Welcome home. I almost didn't recognize you.” He ran his hand over Tyler’s short, dark, no-longer-blue hair. “No more elf,” he said.

  No. Always your elf, and fuck me sideways, I am in so much trouble. We are in so much trouble.

  “Not until they film The Golden Key,” Tyler said. “If that ever happens. And if they still want me in it when the time comes.”

  “They will.” Josh kissed him again. “I missed you.”

  “Like a rash?”

  “Yep.”

  Welcome home. Only this wasn't his home. Not anymore.

  “‘Show me the way home, honey.’” Tyler took Josh’s hand in his. “Although we should probably pick up my bag first. There are things in it.”

  “What things?” Josh asked.

  Tyler gave Josh his sweetest smile. “Oh, you'll find out.”

  –—

  Wednesday, September 28th, 11:21 p.m.

  Josh’s tidy bedroom

  Evanston, IL

  Tyler was in bed with Josh sleeping and wrapped around him when he got Tom’s text.

  Tom: Great job, kid. The gossip sites are already eating the pictures up like they're candy. If I didn't know better I'd swear you two were really in love.

  Tyler: Thanks. All in a day’s work, right?

  Tyler put his phone down and closed his eyes. He reveled in the feel of Josh’s arms around him and the smell of his skin. The feeling of utter rightness that filled him.

  Welcome home.

  Right.

  Chapter 28

  Josh and Tyler Have a Lunch Date

  Thursday, September 29th, 11:30 a.m.

  A dermatology practice

  Evanston, IL

  “I want to meet the Hoover vacuum that’s sitting in our waiting room,” Maria said. “Marisol told everyone, including poor Nik, that he's here to take you to lunch. He took one look at your pretty man out there and turned green.” She waggled her finger at him and tsked. “Not nice.”

  “You suggested it!” Josh snapped, exasperated.

  Maria gave Josh a lopsided grin. “True, although I was just kidding, but maybe it's for the best. You didn't even know Nik had a thing for you until I pointed it out, did you?”

  “Nope. Had no idea he was gay, didn't care, still don't. Not sure why any of this is my problem.”

  “We were all tired of waiting for one of you to make a move. His palpable longing for you has been the source of much speculation around here.”

  “It couldn't be that palpable if I was unaware it existed.”

  Maria shook her head at him. “You're hopelessly oblivious to things like that. We all had bets going on about when Nik would finally get up the guts to ask you out. We thought about having a side bet to see if you got a clue and either shot him down or asked him out first, but no one wanted to take that bet, so we just picked dates for Nik. I chose the Christmas party.” She sighed. “I really had high hopes for that, too. I figured if I got Nik drunk enough, he'd finally go for it.”

  “You’re all awful. I should tell Matt you guys have a betting ring going on. It would serve you right.”

  “If you do, I'm telling Nik that Tyler’s your brother-in-law and not your boyfriend, and that he should ask you out.”

  “I really wish you wouldn't, Maria.”

  She put a hand on his arm, her face turning serious. “I was just teasing you. Don't worry, I'm not actually going to encourage him. So, are you going to introduce me to this man of yours or not?”

  Josh glanced over Maria’s shoulder, past the reception desk, and saw Tyler
sitting in the waiting room. He wore a dark-green sweater under a suede jacket, faded jeans, and boots. One leg was casually crossed over the other and he looked like he was rapidly texting someone. Probably Purvi, since those two were electronically joined at the hip.

  Josh wasn't quite used to Tyler's hair yet, now very short in addition to being brown. He looked different. More serious, as well as older, and that at least was a bit of a relief. The new style emphasized Tyler’s cheekbones and sharp, stubborn chin and made his eyes even more noticeable. Today, thanks to help from the sweater, they were a greenish-gray, and Josh thought he still looked like an elf, just not one of the crack whore or hipster varieties. Tyler had veered into yuppie elf territory, the kind that bought organic toadstools and mystic crystals at the fairy version of Whole Foods.

  Josh realized he'd been staring at Tyler for far too long when Maria poked him to regain his attention. He felt his face flush, and led her out to the waiting room. Josh was a little nervous about introducing Maria to Tyler. It occurred to him that no one he'd ever dated had ever come to his work to take him out to lunch, and the last time anyone from work had seen someone he dated was at a Christmas party two years ago. That had been Gabe, he was pretty sure. Or maybe Jon. No, Gabe, because right after the new year they'd broken up when Gabe suggested they move in together and Josh realized he couldn't live with a man who, while extremely handsome, was incapable of carrying on a decent conversation or picking his socks off the floor.

  Josh needn't have been concerned about what Maria would think of Tyler or vice versa. Tyler was in full-on charmer mode, and Maria fell under his spell in under thirty seconds of conversation. She held out a hand for him to shake and remarked that he had great skin and questionable taste in boyfriends. Tyler gave her a smile that could have melted a glacier and told her that he'd been trying his best to get into Josh’s pants for years, which was a big fat lie, but Maria grinned back at him and agreed that it took a lot to get Josh’s attention.