by Lynn VanDorn
“Great. That would be… just great. Whenever you feel you’re ready, we’ll be there. And if you’re never ready, that's okay, too.” Mike pushed his smile a little wider and Tyler knew with a start that it was an act because he did the same thing. It was the smile he wore when it was either grin or cry or scream yourself hoarse, or, in his case, find a nice spot to cut yourself.
He made himself smile back and it wasn't one of his scary ones. He found himself almost liking the man, even if he didn't feel drawn to him. Of the three people he could claim as parents, Mike had done him the least harm. “I need some time.”
Tyler glanced over at Josh and saw him staring at his mother, a pinched expression on his face. He wasn’t quietly disapproving of their family drama as Tyler had earlier thought. He was furious, and it was all directed with laser intensity at Cynthia. Tyler needed to think of a way to distract him, or Josh was going to end up exploding all over and that would be worse than him spontaneously waxing the floor.
“Mom, did Ryan talk to you about my theory on who stole and uploaded that video of me?”
She shook her head and looked surprised.
“The whole reason why Ryan felt the need to bust open this shit-show was because I told him that I think it was Dad who did it. I mean Peter, I guess. I'm sorry. I hate the bastard, but I still can't think of him as anything but Dad. Anyway, this is proof, sort of. He has motive. He’s always hated me and now I know why.”
His mother shook her head. “Your—Peter didn't steal that video, or have someone steal it for him, which would have been more likely. He was too angry when it went missing. Also, he wouldn't have released it like that. It doesn't just expose you. He feels exposed as well. Believe me, I got an earful from him earlier in the week.”
That stumped Tyler. If his father—Peter—hadn't done it, then he had no idea who had. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“The video went missing a long time ago, just a few days after the police took it in. The officer who was dealing with the incident went to go get it so it could be destroyed, and it wasn't there. I assume the other parents were notified of the disappearance as well. I remember Peter was livid. He was sure the video would be used against our family in some way, probably for blackmail purposes, but who knows what Peter was thinking, and in the end, nothing happened. Well, not until now, I mean. At the time, Peter threatened to take legal action against the officer who misplaced the video, but the police chief talked him out of it. I’m not sure if the video was ever recovered. Most of what I know was what I overheard. It wasn't like Peter ever discussed things with me.”
“So, we're back at square one,” Josh said, and Tyler was relieved to see he’d stopped giving his mother the stink-eye. “We still don't know who released the video or why, but we have learned that your brother is having an affair with one of his employees and that your father isn't really your father. Oh, and your guidance counselor was killed in a car accident.”
“Yeah. It's been an eventful week.”
“Two weeks,” Josh said, ever pedantic.
“Whatever. Mom, can we call it an evening? I think I've had about all I can handle right now. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. I cannot deal with one more thing thrown at me.”
So, of course, his phone picked that second to start ringing.
“Oh, fuck me,” Tyler muttered, and answered it.
It was Alicia. “I've got great news, kid! They want to cast you as Simon in Jar of Starlight, which, honestly, is a shit title and hopefully not firm. You must have wowed the hell out of them at your reading because they want you to sign a contract right away. If you agree to do this, and as your agent I think you'd be crazy to turn it down, then they’ll need an answer soon. They want to start shooting in November.”
“Great,” Tyler said, trying to work up the proper amount of enthusiasm, but it wasn't easy. He was too tired and drained to be excited. “Send the contract over to Ryan and we'll look it over tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure. I think things are going to be fine, Tyler. I know the past few weeks have been crazy, but you've done a great job of handling everything. You should check in with Tom. He should be able to give you a rough timetable of how much longer you and that boyfriend of yours need to keep playing house. In no time, I'm sure you two can see about getting on with your lives.”
“Yeah, thanks, Alicia.” It had been easy to forget, in the flurry of activity, that there was a slight problem with falling for Josh, and now it had reared its ugly head. Maybe going their separate ways was what needed to happen. Living here with Josh was like living in Fantasyland. It was this nice little fake fairy tale world that didn't really exist. Tyler had a life. That life wasn't here. It was just hard to remember that when Josh touched him and the rest of the world fell away. Even now, listening to what should've been the best news he'd heard all month, Tyler’s hand went to Josh and gripped his arm like he'd vanish if Tyler didn't hold onto him.
“No problem. I'm just glad things are going our way. I'll see you when you get back home, kiddo. All right?”
“You bet,” was his dutiful reply, and he said his goodbyes.
He turned to Josh with a smile that he had to manufacture. “Guess what?”
Josh favored him with his own fake smile. “I heard. Your agent is loud. Congratulations. You got the part. This is great.” He smiled wider and Tyler wished he wouldn't. It hurt to look at it. “I bet you can't wait to get home.”
“Josh,” he said.
“No, this is fantastic news, right? They picked you despite all the publicity. Or maybe because of it. I don't really get how it all works, but it has. Worked, I mean.” Josh looked at Tyler, his face full of desperate expectation.
“Yeah,” Tyler said. “It worked.” He should've been happier. He should've been turning cartwheels around the room. Later, after he'd gotten some sleep and had time to think, then he'd be happy. He was just tired. That was it.
Tyler’s mother stood, a concerned smile on her face. “Yes, this is wonderful news. Congratulations, sweetheart. I'm happy for you. Will you see Mike and me out?”
The manufactured happiness fell off Josh’s face and was replaced with icy displeasure, focused again on Tyler’s mother. He looked like he was about to object, so Tyler put a hand on his chest to keep him from standing. “It's fine, really,” he said. Down, boy. And damn his heart for finding Josh’s protectiveness, as unnecessary as it was, endearing in any way.
At the door, his mother told Mike to start down without her. He nodded, then shook Tyler’s hand. “I'm sorry about everything,” he said, and it occurred to Tyler that his mother had given him a long list of explanations and excuses, but no real apology.
After Mike was out of earshot, his mother took both of his hands in hers. “I know you're angry with me and you have every right, but I'm your mother and I love you. I thought what I was doing was for the best, but I know you don't agree, and I'm beginning to see that maybe I was wrong. I’m sorry. I only wanted the best for you.”
“Oh,” Tyler said, surprised. It appeared he was going to get something of an apology after all. He opened his mouth to say that it was all right, then closed it. It wasn't all right and he wasn't ready to tell her that it was. “Okay,” he said instead. “I've got a lot to think about.” That was the understatement of the year.
“About that,” she said. “I have some advice for you, whether you want to hear it or not. Go home and take that role. Your life is back there, not here.”
“I know that. I'm going to take the part. I'd be crazy not to.”
“But?” Dammit. Why wouldn't she let it go?
“No buts, Mom. Why wouldn't I go back? Everything is going just the way it's supposed to. Things are working out perfectly.” And fuck it, but his voice cracked there at the end. Some actor he was.
“Oh, honey. I won't tell you ‘I told you so.’”
“You just did. I get it. I fucked up yet again, didn't I?” Tyler felt tears prickle in his eyes and he fought t
hem down. He gave his mother a wide smile.
His mother raised a tentative hand and brushed his cheek with her cool fingers. “You’re in love. It's written all over you. And normally I'd be thrilled for you, but…” She stopped and gave him a troubled smile. “Learn from my mistakes, okay?”
“Sure,” he said, and allowed her to enfold him in her arms, just like she had when he was a small child.
It was just a two-week affair. It felt like longer, though. The thought of leaving a man he'd only been involved with for two weeks shouldn't hurt so much. It wasn't reasonable and it wasn't fair, but if life had taught Tyler anything, it was that life wasn't fair. Not by a long shot.
“I love you,” his mother said as she pulled away from him.
“I love you, too,” Tyler said, and the hell of it was that he still did.
Chapter 36
Josh and the Metaphorical Glass Loafer
Sunday, October 2nd, 5:15 p.m.
Josh’s perfectly adequate condo
Evanston, IL
Josh had been a huge nerd as a kid. He was uncoordinated and skinny with thick glasses, braces (not the invisible kind), and an out of control Jewfro. He liked computers, video games, math, and visiting museums, especially the Art Institute, where he could, and did, go on and on about his favorite artists to anyone who'd listen. He got picked on quite a bit in school, especially middle school, which he was convinced existed to segregate children aged eleven to thirteen away from the rest of society in an environment not that dissimilar to the island in Lord of the Flies, which was one of his favorite books. He did not have many friends.
In middle school, he learned his hair was gay, his clothes were gay, liking art was gay, his glasses and braces were gay, watching The X-Files was gay, and getting straight A’s was especially gay. That he had to concentrate in the gym showers to not get an erection was beside the point. Josh was so used to being called gay for every single thing he was and did that discovering he really was gay came as less of a surprise than it might have otherwise. It was pretty much the crap cherry on top of the shit sundae that was his preteen existence. He'd resigned himself to four hellish years of high school when a miracle happened: Ryan Chadwick insisted on becoming his best friend and champion right at the beginning of freshman year.
Everything changed for Josh then, because Ryan didn't tolerate anyone picking on him. Josh was invited to parties because Ryan wouldn't go if his best friend didn't go, too. He wasn't bullied because Ryan would've stomped down hard on anyone who even thought of trying it. Ryan persuaded Josh to join the football team, and while he was never much more than a bench warmer, he put on muscle and gained coordination. The coach noted the one thing he was good at—running—and encouraged him to try out for cross-country, where he excelled and won trophies for the school. Josh graduated in the top of his class and received a scholarship to Stanford.
By his senior year of high school Josh was no longer skinny or gawky, had figured out how to deal with his hair, found glasses that suited his face, grown several inches taller, and the braces had done wonders for his teeth. He became adept at politely turning down the now numerous overtures from Ryan's more desperate cast-offs, the less shy members of the National Honor Society, the girl in art club who’d been dumped by her girlfriend and “wanted to give cock a chance,” several pushy cheerleaders, and even a few discreet and hopeful boys. Josh wasn't interested in anyone but Ryan, who was friend and lover and savior all rolled into one large, attractive package. He couldn't imagine ever wanting anything or anyone else.
Largely thanks to Ryan’s looming omnipresence, Josh had never been beaten up for being gay, or hazed, or even ridiculed beyond juvenile insults. When he'd finally come out, no one except his parents had cared, and even they were only passively disapproving. They didn't disown him or stop paying his college bills or tell him not to bother coming home. Even if they didn't necessarily approve of him, they still loved him.
Josh was inordinately lucky. He knew that, but the knowledge had never really hit home until today, sitting next to Tyler and listening to his horror show of a childhood. Put together with what he’d learned from Rachel and Tyler himself, it was clear no one had ever sheltered Tyler. The man he thought was his father despised him, his mother failed him, and Ryan seemed oblivious. It seemed the only one who'd ever tried was Brad, and Josh felt a surge of affection for his friend.
“If my phone goes off again, I'm not answering it,” Tyler said when he came back into the living room. “I am done for the night. Done.” He flopped down on the couch and laid his head on Josh’s thigh. “I don't care what the emergency is, either someone else can deal with it or it can wait until tomorrow.”
Tonight, Tyler wasn't as beautiful as he'd been that first night in the rented house (Michael Connolly’s house, and how crazy is that?) when he’d laid his head in Josh’s lap. The skin around his eyes was pink and puffy and there were dark shadows under them. He looked tired and every one of his twenty-five years, plus maybe a few extra. But for all that, he was still achingly precious to Josh. He wanted to wrap Tyler up in cotton wool and protect him from everyone in the world, and he knew he couldn't. So instead he said nothing, but stroked Tyler’s short hair and thought, don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me, while knowing that he would, soon, and that wanting Tyler to stay was way beyond selfish. He refused to be yet another person in Tyler's life who put him and his needs last.
“You’re being suspiciously quiet, Dr. Rosen,” Tyler said after several minutes of silence.
“I was just thinking that it's a miracle you aren't more fucked-up than you already are.”
Tyler let out a quiet snort of laughter. “I know, right? I did warn you. I told you to run away while you still could and you said, ‘no, Tyler, I could use some excitement in my life.’”
“‘I am not a smart man,’” Josh said. He didn't finish the quote. It hit too close to home.
“Stop quoting movies at me. I know you're trying to make me feel better, but Forrest Gump quotes are not the answer. If you tell me life is like a box of chocolates then I'm going to have to hurt you, which would be a shame because I have plans for you.”
“Plans?”
“Yes, plans. With a capital P.”
“Good plans?”
Tyler yawned. “The best. I'll share them with you when I'm not so damned tired.”
Josh grunted and ran his finger over first one of Tyler’s eyebrows, then the other. “So, what now?”
Tyler closed his eyes. “I think I'm going to let you pet me for a while, then we’ll see. This doesn't suck.”
Josh ran his finger down the bridge of Tyler’s lovely nose. “No, I meant what now for you and me in the greater scheme of things. Not just the next fifteen minutes.”
“Only fifteen minutes?” Tyler pouted, pushing out his plump lower lip in the most calculated way possible.
“Tyler…”
Tyler opened his eyes and schooled his features into a neutral expression that didn't fool Josh for a second. That was the face Tyler wore when he was wary of giving too much away. “What?”
“Are we going to talk?”
“No!” It was said in almost a shout. Tyler closed his eyes again and lowered his voice. “I mean, yes, but later. Not now. Keep on with the petting.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
Not a surprising answer, but also not the one Josh wanted. He needed to know if there was still room in Tyler’s life for a somewhat neurotic doctor teetering on edge of being middle-aged. Yes, there had been that declaration of love, but Josh had pestered him into saying it. Had practically begged for it. Other men had said they loved him, but none had stayed that way. Since Josh hadn't loved any of them back, it hadn't mattered to him, but this was different. Night and day different. There was nothing to indicate that Tyler would continue to feel the way he did now, whatever that even was. Tyler had said he was stupid with love for Josh, which, when he thought about it, didn't sound promising for
long-term happiness.
Tyler would go back home, be in his movie, and with the distance between them, Josh would become less important. There would be other men, especially now that Tyler was so very publicly out, and one of them was bound to distract him from his long-distance relationship. LA had no shortage of attractive men. Tyler would find someone handsomer, younger, and more importantly, who lived closer.
Josh could and would visit. It was doable, he knew, but he kept picturing going into the grocery store, standing in line, and seeing Tyler on the cover of a tabloid with someone else. A model, maybe. One with no gray hairs yet. Or worse, Josh pictured himself flying out to California, only to be met at the airport by Tyler and his new boyfriend. “Oh, I'm sorry,” Josh could imagine him saying. “You know how it is. We just clicked. I'm sure you understand. You can still stay in my guest room. I wouldn't dream of you staying in a hotel. You’re family, after all.” And then Josh would have to spend a week not killing some underwear model named Chet or Xander.
“Josh, why are you making a fist?”
Oh, no reason. I only want to punch your imaginary boyfriend Chet in his pretty face.
“Sorry,” he said, and unclenched his hand.
“Do you really think I was chosen to be in the movie because of the recent publicity?” Tyler asked.
That was so far away from where Josh’s brain had travelled that it took him a few seconds to think about what Tyler had said. “I don't know. I’m a dermatologist, not a media expert. I could do something about these, you know, if you wanted me to.” Josh took one of Tyler’s wrists and lifted it. He pushed up the sleeve of his sweater and touched the scar there. “I'm surprised you’ve left them like this. Give me six months and I could make them all but disappear.” Josh put Tyler’s wrist back down, wondering if he would be anything but a memory to Tyler in six months. “But I don't know jack shit about Hollywood. What do you think?”