Sugar and Spice

by Max Hudson

  Oscar took a deep breath and hooked his shaking hands through his belt loops. He knew he had to stay calm long enough to get through the whole story right now or else he never would.

  “We were hit by a wrong way driver while exiting the 101. Our car went off the exit ramp and fell into a ditch below. I think we flipped a couple of times and landed upside down. I don’t really know. The details are fuzzy. All I remember was that I was pinned down by something. I couldn’t move or feel my legs. I was screaming for my dad and panicking about not being able to move. Then I turned my head to the side and saw my dad’s neck and chest impaled with shrapnel.”

  Oscar swallowed.

  “I was stuck there for an hour, staring at my dead father and waiting for the cops to show up. The pain was so bad that when they tried to move me I completely blacked out and didn’t wake up for hours.

  “Supposedly my mother was so distraught when she found out about the accident that she went on a drug binge. By the time I woke up she had already OD’ed. People told me it was an accident, but nobody really knows whether it was intentional or not. The nurses had to be the ones to tell me about it when I finally came to. I was an orphan in less than twenty-four hours.”

  Oscar felt hollowed out and sad, but also surprisingly calm. There weren’t even tears in his eyes, just an ever-present ache in his heart.

  “So that’s why you left the show and went into hiding,” Connie concluded.

  Oscar shook his head sadly. A chill went up his spine.

  “No. That all happened when I was fourteen. I kept doing the show for three more years.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jesse was downstairs at the mansion having lunch with Steve, Ted, and Amal, also known as his lighting, cinematography, and sound directors, respectively. They were also the entirety of his crew since the network hadn’t wanted to hire any additional bodies for him. These three were the only people willing to be bribed with food, friendship, and one extra film credit to add to their resumes.

  “I’m thinking we should pop into the restaurant during peak hours so that we can get some honest reactions from the staff when we tell them about the remodel,” Jesse was saying between bites of sushi.

  “How big is the place?” Ted asked. “What kind of rig do I need?”

  “Bigger than the last place, but with more narrow walkways,” Jesse answered. “And they have really dim lighting, so I’ll probably need you to come along too, Steve.”

  Steve gave a thumbs up around his chopsticks and continued eating.

  “Now about tomorrow…” Jesse began, but was interrupted by all three of his sisters appearing in the entryway to the second living room.

  “Jesse,” Leah said quietly. She was smiling, but she was also running the pad of her thumb across her long fingernails. A telltale sign that she was nervous about something. “Can we talk to you for a second?”

  Jesse frowned and looked from her to the other two. Katelyn’s posture was stiff, and her arms were limp at her sides as if she didn’t know what to do with them. Isabel’s face was uncharacteristically devoid of makeup and it looked as though she’d been crying. Worried, Jesse nodded his head and told his crew to go take a break. Steve, ever the glutton, took the remaining plate of sushi with him.

  Jesse leaned back in his chair and waited for his sisters to sit down too, but they never did. They just moved closer and towered over him like triplicate bad omens.

  “What’s up guys?” Jesse asked. “Is everything all right?”

  At this, Leah’s smile quavered a bit.

  “Jess, have you um, have you been on social media lately?”

  Jesse frowned, unsure of what they were getting at.

  “No. My phone’s upstairs. Why? Is someone saying mean things about us again? I told you not to listen to that garbage. It’s just mindless clickbait.”

  “Not exactly,” Leah said, but did not elaborate.

  “Okaaaaaaaay,” Jesse dragged out. “What is it then?”

  “It’s not about us,” Katelyn said. Her voice was soft and robotic, almost shell-shocked. “Just you.”

  Jesse’s frown deepened. He was fairly certain he hadn’t done anything in the last couple of months to garner any negative media attention. His mom hadn’t set him up on anymore PR dates and he hadn’t had time to go to the club with all the work he was putting into making his show. He spent just about every second of his remaining free time with Oscar. And yet he had to have done something, because his sisters were staring at him as if waiting for a confession. Jesse was starting to get a bit frustrated by all the beating around the bush.

  “For Chrissake,” he mumbled. “Just spit it out already.”

  Leah looked at Isabel who frowned and wordlessly handed over her phone. Leah typed something in, scrolled a bit and then zoomed into an image before turning the screen so that Jesse could see.

  There, nestled right between the walls of his sister’s sparkling golden phone case was a grainy picture of him kissing Oscar’s hooded form in front of a movie screen. The picture was taken from an angle that obscured most of Oscar’s face and body, but Jesse’s face was lit up by the screen and completely visible. Even with the picture’s low quality, it was easy to tell that the person Jesse was kissing was not female.

  Jesse zoomed out of the picture and scrolled back to the top of the article. The headline read “Sugar Daddy?!???” and it already had five million views. Numbly, he skimmed through the actual article. It was full of quotes from girls he’d allegedly dated, all saying that he wasn’t very into them and that him liking boys wasn’t really a surprise.

  Jesse let the phone fall into his lap. He was glad, now, that he was the only one sitting. He rubbed at his forehead with the palm of his hand, thinking of Oscar. One night. One night of being out in the world and trying to be normal, and this was what he got; his image posted to the internet for all the world to see. It was a miracle that he somehow managed to hide his face, otherwise some nerd in bumfuck Delaware or something would have probably used facial recognition to figure it out.

  This was all Jesse’s fault. He’d had an inkling that the stupid comic book girl at the ticket counter had recognized him. Then he practically threw money at her, confirming her suspicion. He should have covered himself up more instead of worrying so much about Oscar, or better yet, taken them to a different theater entirely.

  Leah put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s true, isn't it,” she said. “That’s what’s been going on with you lately.”

  Jesse laughed bitterly.

  “It’s what’s been going on with me for decades.”

  Isabel’s puffy eyes made a reappearance.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” she sniffed. “Is there something we said or did to make you think we wouldn’t be supportive?”

  Jesse’s heart shriveled and turned to ash. God, he was so freaking dumb.

  “Izzy no,” he said, opening his arms for her. She tucked herself right in and cried on his shoulder just like she had when they were kids. It didn’t matter that she was two years older. Jesse had always been bigger and better at comforting.

  “It’s not your fault,” he cooed, stroking her hair. “I was just waiting for someone to figure it out on their own, and when they never did, I got all weird and self-conscious about it. I didn’t want you to find out this way.” “I should have figured,” Katelyn said, shaking her head. “I was just so busy with trying to get pregnant and then the girls and I... I guess I got too caught up in my own drama. I’m so sorry Jesse. I love you no matter what and I appreciate everything you do for this family. We all do.”

  Leah nodded her head in agreement. Isabel squeezed him even tighter and pulled back, wiping her eyes. Jesse gave them a thin smile.

  “I know. I love you guys too.”

  Then Leah switched into business mode, determined to get this all taken care of so that Jesse didn’t have to worry about a thing. He would never say so, but she reminded him so m
uch of their mother when she got like this. The good parts of their mother, of course.

  “So far, this is the only site running the story, but that’ll change within the hour. If we issue a statement now we might be able to get ahead of the rumor and squash it,” she said.

  Jesse sighed and shook his head. Oscar had stood up and done something incredibly brave. Now it was time for him to do the same.

  “No. I think it’s past time I came out anyway.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Oscar had been calling and texting Jesse for hours with no response and he was starting to get worried. He had to have seen the picture by now. It was everywhere, and not just on celebrity news sites. It had crept its way into the actual news as well. Jesse was probably locked up in his family commune doing damage control.

  Oscar had found out late this afternoon when he’d finally woken from his hard-won slumber. He had to blink and rub the sleep out of his eyes several times before he realized that the blurry dark figure on his homepage was actually him. Surprisingly, he hadn’t felt nearly as panicked as he thought he might. He was barely even visible, just a prop in the eyes of the photographer, a means of confirming Jesse Sugar’s gayness. Talking to Connie yesterday had been a million times worse than this.

  Still, he couldn’t help but read through all the articles and comments. He wanted to see what people were saying about Jesse, even though he knew it probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

  Naturally, a lot of people thought it was a publicity stunt, which considering his family’s history was somewhat fair. One particularly rude columnist was saying that Jesse was such a manwhore that he’d worked his way through all the viable women in Hollywood and had thus moved on to the men, and of course there were plenty of generic homophobic people calling him a fag, but that appeared to be the worst of it. There was actually a shocking amount of support spilling out from people, especially other celebrities on social media.

  “Jesse gets a bad rap, but he’s actually the sweetest guy I know. Whoever he likes is his own business.”

  “Just because he’s on a reality show doesn’t mean he owes us anything. This is a huge violation of privacy. Whoever took that picture should be ashamed of themselves.”

  “I support Jesse one hundred percent. He’s a good dude and obviously this situation sucks, but I’m happy for him. I hope he can take this as an opportunity to be true to himself.”

  “We were never actually dating. The tabloids just saw us together and assumed. I think that’s a lot of what’s going on here. Assumption. People assumed he liked girls, so that’s all they ever saw in him.”

  “Just because he dates a lot of girls doesn’t mean he can’t also make out with boys. Come on people. It’s 2018.”

  “Looking back on it, it makes a lot of sense. No matter how hard I tried, he was never really into me. Now I guess I know why. I just hope that he finds happiness with whoever he ends up with.”

  “I think it’s time for us to have a serious conversation about bisexual representation in media. It’s ridiculous how many people are shocked by this.”

  “Gay, straight, whatever. That shouldn’t be your sole reasoning for hating on Jesse Sugar. Come up with a more creative reason than that.”

  And, of course, one very short and simple, “I ship it!” from a country singer named Cassidy Cline.

  As the hours ticked by, the question on everyone’s collective minds seemed to shift from whether or not Jesse was gay, to who the other man in the photo was. They’d affectionately dubbed him the “Hoodie Guy” and had started narrowing down the likely candidates accordingly. It didn’t take long for someone to unknowingly guess correctly. In fact, it was one of the top comments on the very first article Oscar stumbled across. It read:

  Plot twist, Hoodie guy is actually Oscar Hernandez. Lol.

  The comment had more than five thousand likes. All from people who undoubtedly thought it was a really funny joke. If only they knew…

  Oscar couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. It had been his idea to go to the movies, and he hadn’t really given Jesse any time to think about it or prepare. A childish part of him wanted to blame Connie for pushing the issue in the first place, but he knew that wasn’t right either. He’d made a lot of progress with her. Progress that needed to continue. If it was anyone’s fault, it was the person who’d taken the picture in the first place. Besides, if he’d listened to Connie, his first outing would have probably been to a bookstore or something, and there definitely would not have been any kissing involved whatsoever.

  Oscar sighed and closed his laptop. He really just wanted to talk to Jesse and make sure he was okay. He couldn’t stop thinking about how, if they were any normal couple, he could just hop downstairs and drive on over to Jesse’s place to check on him. It would be that easy.

  Then again, none of this would even be a problem if they were a normal couple. This was what happened when two messy people got together. A bigger, more public mess.

  Oscar was angry, he realized. Angry at the hand he’d been dealt. Angry that simple tasks were so hard for him. Angry at whomever had taken the picture. Angry at Mikey Anderson for taking his parents away. Angry at his mother for letting herself be taken. Angry at his father for needing to storm out right away. Angry at the world for not caring about his pain. Most of all, he was angry at himself, for letting this cycle go on for so damn long.

  He wanted to run or punch something, but his treadmill just wasn’t going to cut it. In the spur of the moment, Oscar scooped up his apartment key from the side table where he’d left it last night. He turned the cold object over in his hands a couple of times feeling the jaggedness of the teeth against his palm. It was just a tiny hunk of silver, no keychain or ring. It had taken Oscar forever to find the thing in his storage room. He’d never really had use for it until last night.

  Before he even realized what he was doing, Oscar slid the key into his pocket and slipped on some shoes. He opened his creaky vault of a front door and stepped out into the hall. As usual, there was no one up here. Even though his apartment was relatively small, it was still technically a penthouse, meaning he had the whole floor to himself.

  Oscar closed his door and locked it before carefully making his way down the hall. It wasn’t a very long one, just a small passageway that linked his living quarters to the elevator and stairs for the rest of the building. Oscar got to the end of the passage and briefly paused. He wasn’t yet brave enough to take the elevator, so he continued on in the direction of the stairs.

  The stairs were wide-set and made from those huge wooden planks that looked as though they could use a good dusting. The building was ten stories tall, so they wound on for quite a ways. He could hear the soft footfalls of people on the floors below him. Oscar took a deep breath and started walking, hand hanging onto the railing for dear life. His brain kept trying to place him in a car or a hospital bed, but he fought against it and kept putting one foot in front of another. The scariest part was when he reached the end of a flight and had to open his eyes to reorient himself.

  He made it about halfway to the ground level before hearing some loud banging and shuffling. His eyes shot open wide and he pressed his body tightly against the wall. A few minutes later, the back of a sweaty balding man came into view. He and another person were carrying a couch up the stairs.

  “Coming through!” he grunted.

  Oscar stayed where he was and watched as they reached the landing that marked the entrance to the fifth floor. The two men counted to three before setting down their load and resting. After a minute or so, bald sweaty guy noticed Oscar standing there and started making his way over to talk to him.

  “Sorry man,” he shouted. “We’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

  Oscar didn’t respond or let the man get any closer. He turned on his heels and raced back up the stairs as fast as his feet could carry him. Back on the top floor, his heart was pounding, and his hands were sweating so profusely that he
could hardly manage to get his key out of his pocket and into the lock. Once he finally did, he heaved his body into his apartment with a gasp. He stayed crouched there in the entryway for a long time, bracing himself on the doorknob.

  Once he got himself mostly under control, he opened the door back up and snatched the key from the lock on the other side where he’d left it in his panic. He took it with him back to his bedroom and placed it on his nightstand next to the movie stub. Then he crawled into bed with frustrated tears in his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jesse straightened his tie and looked at himself in the dressing room mirror. His makeup was flawless. His hair was slicked back. His navy-blue suit fit him like a glove, but no amount of primping could hide the fact that he was terrified out of his mind.

  This was his first time doing any sort of talk show without the rest of his family, much less one of this scale. Betty Mathison’s show was the pinnacle of late night television. People often said that you hadn’t made it in Hollywood until you’d gone toe to toe with her in an interview. And here Jesse was, about to go on and tell Betty, along with the whole wide world, that he was gay. He was starting to regret denying his sisters’ requests to tag along.

  There was a knock on the door followed by a skinny girl with teal hair poking her head in.

  “Ten minutes, Mr. Sugar,” she said.

  Jesse nodded and gave her a forced smile.

  “Okay, thank you. I’ll be out in a second.”

  She closed the door and Jesse took a deep calming breath. He wished Oscar were there. This milestone felt bittersweet and lonesome without him. Nevertheless, it was something that needed to be done. He reached into his pocket and turned off his cell phone, allowing himself one final look in the mirror before venturing out into the bustling hallway.

  He walked until he saw the girl who had knocked on his door and told her he was ready to be miked. She led him to the proper backstage waiting area with the other guests and he was fitted with a battery pack and a corresponding lapel mic. Then he was left to his own devices.