by Max Hudson
In the kitchen, he’d taken the time to wash and put away every single one of his dishes and reorganize his pantry. The dining nook hadn’t taken nearly as much effort since he hardly ever used it, but he’d still draped the round table in white cloth and lit a couple of candles for ambiance. The whole space looked like the after shot on a home renovation show.
The one thing he hadn’t bothered cleaning was his bedroom. Mostly for his own safety. Just the idea of showing Jesse to his bedroom was enough to set every inch of Oscar’s skin on fire. He was also wearing extremely tight pants in order to mask any unseemly side effects of said fire. Heart racing and palms sweaty, Oscar headed into his newly clean kitchen to start preparing dinner.
He was actually a pretty great chef. It was the first skill he’d picked up during his isolation. Given a couple of hours and the right ingredients, he could satisfy just about any food craving he had. The only thing he really missed was sushi. The only way to make it perfectly was to get fresh fish, and unfortunately grocery delivery services rarely extended to the catch of the day.
Today he was going simple. Blackened salmon—not fresh, but still tasty—with asparagus and lemon risotto. He’d stolen the recipe from the food channel years ago and gradually modified it until it turned out perfect for him every time. The best part was that it took less than forty-five minutes to make. Oscar was just covering all the components up to keep them warm when there was a gentle knock on the door. He stood up straight and glanced at the oven clock. It was only 6:45. Jesse was fifteen minutes early.
Oscar closed his eyes and inhaled deeply just like the internet had taught him. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he called upon the last vestiges of his former acting prowess to school his features into a neutral expression. He took a dozen or so long strides to the door, put his hand on the knob and opened it before he could change his mind.
Jesse Sugar was wearing the tackiest pale pink suit Oscar had ever seen. The shirt underneath was white and accented with a skinny slate grey tie. Tucked into the jacket pocket was a navy swatch of fabric that matched his pristine brand name sneakers. The whole getup looked like a relic salvaged from a 90s music video or a vintage prom rental shop. But of course, Jesse somehow managed to pull it off. The white made his skin look tanner and his already striking eyes stand out even more. Oscar knew that if he ever tried wearing something like that, he’d look like a waiter. That was white privilege at its finest.
“Sorry,” Jesse said, running his fingers through his swoopy dirty blond hair. “I hope I’m not too early. I was filming some promotional materials nearby and I thought I’d just head straight over.”
There was a slight redness to his cheeks and Oscar’s heart slowed a bit under the knowledge that he wasn’t the only person who was nervous.
“No worries,” he said. “I was just finishing dinner. Come in.”
He stepped aside and let Jesse pass him, momentarily tensing at the other man’s closeness. Oscar could reach out and touch the tacky pink suit if he wanted to. He swallowed down the urge. He wasn’t yet ready to reveal exactly how touch starved he was. Besides, once he started, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop.
Jesse was looking the space over. If he noticed the stark difference from the last time he was here, he kept it to himself.
“So,” Oscar said on his way back to the kitchen. “No flowers?”
Jesse let out a startled laugh. The sound was breathy and full and even more endearing in person than it was over the phone. Oscar had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling like an idiot.
“I figured you had enough.”
Oscar let the tiniest bit of his wild grin slip free and nodded his consent.
“True,” he said, and then nodded his head toward the dining nook. “You can go ahead and get comfortable. I’ve just got to finish plating.”
“Plating huh?” Jesse said with raised brows. “I didn’t know I was in the company of a professional chef.”
“I watch a lot of Sliced reruns,” Oscar admitted.
Jesse smiled and asked if he could watch. Oscar was embarrassed, but he also couldn’t bring himself to say no. His hands were shaking so badly that his first sauce drizzle looked more like a blob of pancake syrup. He adjusted his grip on the spoon and the second one turned out almost passable. He handed that plate to Jesse.
“This looks incredible!” he said, eyes wide. “You really are like a professional chef.”
Oscar blushed.
“You might want to taste it first before you say that.”
Jesse threw his manners out the window and crooked one finger into the risotto before licking it. He closed his eyes and smiled at the taste.
“Professional chef,” he confirmed.
Oscar shook his head and led Jesse to the table where he set his plate down onto one of the two place settings. Jesse did the same and settled in across from him. He slipped out of his jacket and took his time undoing his cufflinks and loosening his tie. Oscar was trying not to stare, but he couldn’t help himself. The gesture seemed so intimate and familiar even though he’d probably just disrobed to maintain the integrity of his pink fashion disaster. Oscar looked away and violently stabbed at his salmon. He put an overly large chunk into his mouth. It was delicious, if not a little dry.
Oscar stood and went back into the kitchen to retrieve a cheap bottle of wine from the fridge. He brought it over to the table, careful to keep the label hidden from Jesse’s view.
“So what did you say you were shooting?” he asked, pouring a glass for Jesse and then one for himself.
It was shocking that his voice was so even. Jesse rolled his eyes and took a sip.
“Our network wanted to update the family photoshoot scene for the opening credits because my nieces have grown so much since the last one. It was a nightmare. They dressed us all in matching clothes and kept us on set for six hours just to get one perfect ten second clip.”
Oscar was shocked. Back in his prime, he could sometimes shoot three, whole, thirty-minute episodes in six hours.
“What took so long?” he asked.
Jesse finished chewing his food and then said, “Hair and makeup for nine people and making sure all nine of those people were smiling authentically. Plus, the photographer took a lot of individual shots of us as well, and in different combinations. The ones of my sisters are probably going to end up plastered on a bus somewhere when it’s time for the new season to air.”
Oscar could sense some lingering bitterness but didn’t want to comment on it, so he just nodded and continued awkwardly stuffing his face. The silence stretched until Jesse set down his fork, finished with his meal. He leaned forward with his elbows on the table and carefully ran his fingertips across the flame of the nearest candle.
“I have something I want to ask you,” he said softly, “but I don’t want to be rude. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Oscar swallowed dryly and poured himself another glass of wine.
“What is it?” he asked, preparing for the worst.
Jesse moved his hands away from the open flame and took a big breath.
“What was it like working on Garrett’s Guide?”
Oscar tensed momentarily and then relaxed. It wasn’t exactly his favorite subject, but it wasn’t the question he was most dreading either.
“It was fun,” he said honestly. “It got harder and more complicated as I got older and the fanbase started to grow, but I loved being able to reach people with my words. Well, the writers’ words, but still.” Oscar shrugged. “I connected with the show just as much as anyone else did. Plus, there was something freeing about turning into someone else for a little while. It let me take my mind off things.”
Oscar crossed his ankles under the table, hoping and praying that Jesse would not ask him what kind of things. He needn’t have worried though. Jesse’s eyes were alight with fanboyish glee. For the moment, he was perfectly content to talk about the show.
> “What was your favorite episode?” he asked.
Oscar pretended to wrack his brain even though an answer came easily to mind.
“Probably the one where Sydney comes out as gay.”
Jesse smiled and nodded knowingly.
“That was mine too.”
Jesse was sitting forward in his seat now, eyes smoldering, and lips just slightly parted as if begging to be kissed. It made Oscar’s breath catch and he had to look away and focus on dissipating the pressure building up in his very tight pants.
Jesse had made it pretty obvious that he liked men at this point. Everything about him from the style of clothes he wore, to the type of music he liked, to the way he’d been subtly flirting with Oscar ever since they met, screamed gay. Oscar feared bringing it up nevertheless. Maybe all of the ladies he showed up with in the tabloids were his covers and he dated them because he was afraid of being out. Oscar didn’t want to rip that security blanket away from him if he wasn’t ready, especially since he wasn’t too sure of his own attractions to begin with.
Oscar had known he was attracted to boys at a very young age. It was a part of what drove him into acting to begin with. He was fascinated by the glamourous and openly gay men he saw at his local community theater. They wore makeup and wigs and elaborate costumes, and never seemed to get ridiculed for it. Oscar had instantly wanted to be a part of that, and it turned out that he was pretty good.
The thing was, he hadn’t really had time to experiment with romantic feelings during his working years, and afterward his heart was too heavy with trauma. He’d been with a few girls in his late teens. All of them were older and desperate to throw themselves at a young star, but there were never any boys. It was one of the many things that haunted his thoughts late at night when he was trying to go to sleep.
Oscar forcefully cleared his throat.
“What about you?” he asked a bit too shrilly. “What’s your show like?”
Jesse seemed to deflate a bit. The moment of tension between the two of them passed.
“Oh, you know. It’s mostly just my sisters being themselves and my mother trying to convince them not to be for the sake of drama. My Dad’s there to sign off on all the big purchases. My nieces are there to be cute and say funny things, Jackson’s there to back up Katelyn, and I’m there for moral support. Bada bing, bada boom. Eight whole seasons of content.” Oscar shook his head.
“I didn’t mean that show. I meant your show. The one you’ve been working on.”
Jesse’s project had come up a little bit during their phone conversations, but never for long, and not in great detail. Oscar really only knew what he’d been told on the day of their first spontaneous meeting. He didn’t even know whether this mysterious kindergarten teacher had ever been found or not.
“Oh,” Jesse said, going red in the face. “It’s nothing really... I just wanted to do something to help people who really deserve a second chance.”
Oscar gave him a sideways smile.
“That doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”
Oscar rested his hands flat on the table and Jesse unconsciously did the same.
“Well it did take a lot of convincing,” Jesse admitted. “I’ve had the idea for years, but the network kept insisting that no one would watch it.”
“What?” Oscar scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. People love a good rags-to-riches story, especially one that pulls on your heartstrings.”
“I don’t think it was the concept that they were opposed to,” Jesse said. “It was the host.”
The words were so honest and raw that they hurt Oscar’s heart. Hillenbrand Studios, much like the general public, had no faith in Jesse being a good, kindhearted guy. They didn’t even want to give him a chance.
“Well now you get to prove them wrong,” Oscar said softly.
Jesse gave him the briefest of smiles. Their fingers twitched closer together but did not touch.
“Yeah,” he said. “I sure do.”
“Tell me about the stuff you’ve done so far,” Oscar urged, genuinely interested.
Jesse’s face lit up as he described the maid that he’d randomly gifted ten thousand dollars to pay off the last of her student loans and the accessibility ramp he was installing in the home of a man recently diagnosed with ALS. Then there was the recording contract he’d set up for a camera operator he’d found out had an angelic singing voice and an event he was coordinating with a non-profit organization run by a Navy vet to send books and comics to soldiers serving overseas. It was like Jesse had a magical gift for spotting potential in people, especially people who were down on their luck… people who got written off as charity cases despite the fact that they had so much to offer the world.
Dimly Oscar wondered what that said about him. Jesse seemed to like him an awful lot. The idea that he could be useful for something other than publicity seemed a bit preposterous to Oscar, but he certainly hoped that Jesse saw potential in him. Right then, he honestly felt in his heart that Jesse’s approval was the highest compliment anyone could ever receive.
Eventually the conversation drifted away from the show’s recipients and into the actual production side of things. Hillenbrand had allowed him only the smallest of crews and Jesse was funding most of the show out of his own pocket. Oscar was throwing out marketing strategies and offering names of a few people he’d known back in the day who might be swayed into sponsoring the show. He’d also suggested looking into local car dealerships that might want to give away one of their vehicles on the show in exchange for the publicity.
The two of them went back and forth like this for hours. Oscar didn’t even realize it had gotten dark until he found himself uncontrollably yawning and pulled out his phone to glance at the time. It was already nearly eleven o’clock.
“I should go,” Jesse said regretfully. “I’m scouting locations tomorrow morning.”
The depth with which Oscar wanted him to stay was as frightening as it was overwhelming. It had only been a few hours, but he already couldn’t imagine a world in which he couldn’t keep continuously staring at Jesse’s handsome face. Heck, in just those few hours, Jesse’s handsome face had practically become Oscar’s whole world.
Oscar took a deep breath and dug his fingers into the tablecloth to keep them from shaking. There were angry, frustrated tears building up in the back of his throat, but he didn’t dare let them fall.
Then, as if sensing his friend’s inner turmoil, Jesse delicately rested his hands over his. Oscar gradually loosened his death grip on the fabric and looked up at Jesse with wild, startled eyes. Jesse held his gaze and deliberately flicked his thumb across the top of Oscar’s wrist. The tiny motion sent a wave of heat shooting down his spine and into his gut where it burned all the little butterflies living in there to a crisp.
“I’ll come over tomorrow after I finish filming for the day,” he said, never breaking eye contact. “Does that sound good?”
All Oscar could manage was a nod.
Chapter Six
“What the hell are you so smiley about?” Leah asked, leaning against the doorframe of Jesse’s bedroom. Jesse dropped his phone on the bed beside him and threw a pillow at her.
“Knock much?” he asked.
He’d been so absorbed in texting Oscar that he hadn’t heard her walk up the stairs. Leah crossed her arms over her fake chest.
“The door was open. Last time I checked, open doors didn’t require knocking.”
“Well last time I checked, you should be minding your own business.”
“Your business is my business baby brother. I’m the matriarch.”
“Our mother is still alive, Leah.”
“Yeah.” she shrugged. “But Dad and I pay the bills.”
She wasn’t wrong. Their father, Raymond Sugar, was old money. He’d run a fitness empire back in the seventies that now had training programs and equipment in nearly every gym nationwide. Leah, on the other hand, was the kingpin of the whole operation. She was e
asily the most famous and recognizable of the Sugars. Most of it was due to her rebellious hijinks and sexual exploits with up-and-coming musicians as a teenager. It was what had landed their family a reality show in the first place. Monetarily speaking, she was worth more than Jesse was ten times over.
“Okay,” she said, inviting herself in and plopping down onto the bed next to him. “Who’s the lucky girl? Is she pretty? It’s my sisterly duty to approve all potential mates. Gotta make sure your babies turn out cute.”
She reached down and grabbed Jesse’s phone. She was being nosy and trying to find out who he was talking to. Jesse snatched the device back so quickly he nearly gave her whiplash.
“Leah, get out,” he said, exercising a large amount of his legendary patience.
Leah made no move to get up.
“Yeesh,” she said instead. “Now I really am curious. What’s wrong with this girl? Is she fat? Did you get somebody pregnant?”
A bubble of anger burned its way up Jesse’s chest. He could feel the words he was usually so careful about tamping down building in the back of his throat. His third date—were they really dates? They had to be... he’d come over three nights in a row—with Oscar the night before had made him rawer and more emotional than he usually was. That was something he’d have to talk to Jocelyn about eventually. For now, he just leveled his sister with his scathing gaze and held his phone close to his chest.