by Max Hudson
Finally, when the sky started darkening around him, Oscar stood up, brushed the dirt off of his hands and bid his parents farewell, mentally promising to come back here from time to time when he was feeling low.
Then he turned his back on their graves and followed the path back out into the parking lot. Once he was far enough away from the dead, that it didn’t feel rude or disrespectful, he pulled out his phone and called Jesse. He answered on the first ring.
“Hey baby, if I text you an address can you come pick me up?
The line was quiet for a second. Oscar could hear a rustling sound that was probably Jesse putting on his coat.
“Are you okay? You sound like you’ve been crying.”
“I’m all right,” he promised. “I’ll explain when you get here.”
Oscar hung up the phone and looked at the pink and purple sky above him. He felt tired and sad and sore from head to toe, but he also felt inspired and hopeful, ready to become the person he was always meant to be.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The first season of I’m Coming Out had officially come to a close, and naturally, instead of going out with Oscar and celebrating a job well done, Jesse was stuck here in this dreadfully dull boardroom meeting with Allen Bradshaw and various other hotshot executives at Hillenbrand. It was like these people had a supernatural gift for sucking the fun out of things. If Amal could hear the way these suits were talking, he would never call Jesse an old man again, guaranteed.
Right now, Allen was standing at the front of the room shining his laser pointer all over a graph that was shaped like some sort of rudimentary cartoon character and hardly made any sense.
“As you can see, our ratings started off strong, and then increased for the next three episodes before gradually starting to drop off again. This is to be expected with anything really, but we should still go in and consider the individual episodes in order to better understand the change. When Patty Boedecker was given money to pursue her college education we thought that our…”
I, we, our. Allen was speaking as though he’d had anything at all to do with any it. As though Jesse hadn’t given birth to this show and everything that made it a huge hit all by himself.
Allen went on to give a sundry list of things people in his focus group did or didn’t like. About a third of them were helpful feedback. The rest was just subjective nitpicking of things that nobody had any control over, like the amount of space between Oscar’s eyes, or the way Ted could sometimes be heard breathing behind the camera on the rare occasions when he’d been forced to run.
“People liked the charity angle, but a lot of them were saying that they wanted it to be more consistent and cohesive. A couple of people also suggested focusing it on LGBT related causes in order to mesh better with the rest of the show.”
Jesse was beyond annoyed. Had these idiots learned nothing? Why were they still trying so hard to take control and make this show into something of their own? They were messing with a good thing. A proverbial cash cow. Jesse folded his arms and busied himself counting ceiling tiles until Allen was done speaking.
The next person to stand up and give their spiel was Ted Pierna. He was the CEO, the head honcho of the entire company. He was the person who was basically in charge of telling people whether or not their shit mattered. Jesse supposed he did feel somewhat flattered that the big boss man had made it out here on his account… not flattered enough to forgive them for trying to ruin his show though.
“So,” Ted addressed the whole room, but mainly Jesse. “As you may have guessed, we are renewing I’m Coming Out for a second season. As of right now, we’re prepared to order twenty-four new episodes with a midseason hiatus in between.”
Jesse nodded along. This was pretty much in line with what he’d been expecting.
“We will be increasing the budget to three million.”
Again. No real surprise.
“And we will also be making Jesse the executive producer, since that’s technically the role he’s been fulfilling anyway.”
Jesse’s jaw almost hit the floor.
“Could you please say that again?” he asked.
Ted smiled good-naturedly.
“We want you to executive produce, Jesse. You’re good at it, and you’ve more than proven that you can handle yourself and a crew in various different situations, not to mention coming up with fresh and organic content ideas. If we got rid of that, we’d be doing our growing fanbase a huge disservice.”
Jesse sat back in his rolling chair and surreptitiously glanced around the room. Nobody seemed to be scowling or smirking or trolling him in any way. Ted was serious. He wanted this show to continue being Jesse’s baby, and only his.
“Of course, I’d love to,” he said earnestly. “What’s my first order of business?”
“Well, did you have any ideas you’d like to share to make the show fresh and interesting next season?”
“How much money did you say you were giving me?”
“Three million.”
Jesse let out a huge grin, already considering how much good he could do with that kind of money, especially if he traveled by car and kept his crew limited to his original three guys.
“Yeah,” he said decisively. “I’ve got some ideas.”
Epilogue
“Hi. Can I get twelve classic tacos with sour cream and jalapeños on the side?”
Oscar was standing at the front of the line at an old school Mexican taqueria somewhere in southern Arizona. He had no idea where exactly, just that they had been driving south all day, and had to be getting close to the border by now. The elderly Mexican man behind the counter raised an eyebrow at Oscar’s perfect English, but nodded his head and started making the food anyway. That sort of confused look was growing pretty familiar for Oscar. Since leaving Los Angeles, no less than five people had attempted to speak to him in Spanish. One old lady had even chided him for “abandoning his heritage.”
Still, the food here smelled delicious, and it was much easier for Oscar to walk into this kind of place without standing out than it would have been for Jesse and the others.
Oscar waited by the counter for a moment longer before realizing that his order was going to take a while to complete, and that he should probably step out of line. He leaned against a colorfully tiled wall, and feeling incredibly awkward standing there by himself, pulled out his phone to start texting Jesse, who was waiting for him back in the car.
The two of them, plus Ted, Amal, and Steve of course, were headed on a completely random and unplanned cross-country road trip for season two of I’m Coming Out. It had been a pretty hard sell at first, but he had found that the more time he spent in cars, the less afraid he was of them; maybe there was something to be said for exposure therapy after all. He could even handle busy highways now, just not the specific one that had taken his father from him.
That being said, it was still a struggle sometimes. He still had bad days where he had panic attacks or intense bouts of fear so strong that he couldn’t leave their hotel room, but those were getting fewer and farther between. Usually whenever he started feeling anxious, all it took were some kind words from Jesse or a quick call to Connie to help snap him out of it.
“Twelve tacos,” said the man behind the counter, putting on his best American accent just to mock him. Oscar snatched up his bag and placed a crisp twenty dollar bill in the tip jar despite it.
He left the solace of the small air-conditioned building and stepped back out into the raging inferno outside. He started walking in the direction of Jesse’s car with his phone in one hand and the food in the other.
“Excuse me, sir?” came a small timid voice from somewhere behind him.
Oscar stopped and turned to face the young man walking up to him. He was tall and scrawny and appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties. On top of his head was a mop of thick, curly black hair.
“Are you Oscar Hernandez?” he asked, breathlessly.
Oscar cautiously glanced back and forth between the kid and the car and decided that he could probably make a run for it if need be.
“...yes,” he answered.
The young man’s face lit up and he lifted a cell phone to his mouth.
“Oh my God, it's him.”
A faint, but still audible gasp came from the other end of the line. Oscar tensed and scanned the surrounding area. Even though they were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, the more paranoid part of his brain was still expecting a crazed group of fans to pop up out of nowhere.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” the boy was saying, hand outstretched. “My name is Michael. This is my… my boyfriend Zach is on the line.”
Oscar looked down at his own arms, which were occupied with multiple bags of fast food, and then back at the car where everyone was waiting.
“Oh! Sorry,” Michael said, pulling his hand back. “I can help with those—”
“No,” Oscar said automatically, suddenly skittish. He took a step backward and watched Michael’s excitement turn into a frown.
“Oh… I’m sorry, I—”
“No… no, don't be sorry...”
Oscar sighed and gingerly set the bag of food down on a curb beside him. He offered his newly freed hand.
“I just… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Michael.” They shook hands. “You and… Zach, you said?” He looked at the phone in Michael’s hand.
“Oh! yeah,” Michael said with a surprised little squeak. He turned his phone to reveal a video feed of another young man. “This is Zach. He really admires you. I mean, we both do, but…”
Zach introduced himself and took over the conversation, telling Oscar the gist of their situation. They holed up together in secret every weekend and hadn’t missed a single episode of Jesse’s show. Zach struggled with anxiety and wasn’t yet out to his family. Knowing that even people like Jesse and Oscar had problems and seeing them work together to overcome them had become hugely important to them. More than anything, Zach couldn’t seem to stop thanking him. Oscar was more than a little taken aback, all he could really bring himself to do was listen and nod.
Michael, realizing Oscar’s mounting discomfort, tactfully cut the conversation short. He ended the call with Zach and asked Oscar to take a picture with him.
“For Zach,” he clarified. “He really does love you.”
As if in a daze, Oscar reached out his hand for Michael’s phone, and Michael happily handed it over. Oscar switched the screen back to video mode and started recording.
“Hi Zach, this is Oscar again. Hernandez,” he uselessly clarified. As if Zach didn’t know.
“Um… I just wanted to say thank you for your support, and don’t let anything stop you. It seems like the two of you have got something good going. Please remember that even in the worst of times, you still have each other. All your hard work and secrecy will be worth it in the end. Don’t forget that.”
He stopped recording and handed the phone back to Michael. “Think that’ll do?”
Michael’s eyes were glistening. He gave Oscar a grateful nod.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Don’t mention it,” Oscar said, scooping up his probably now cold tacos and finally making it back to the car.
He climbed in through the passenger side door, passed the tacos around, and carefully secured his seatbelt. He could physically feel everyone’s eyes on him.
“Go ahead and say whatever it is you’re dying to say,” Oscar said with a sigh.
“That was amazing!” Jesse shouted, raising his taco in celebration. “Best fan interaction yet.”
“You didn’t even run away or cry,” Steve commended.
“I got the whole thing on camera!” Ted bragged.
Oscar groaned and sank down in his seat, but truthfully, he was just as proud of himself as his friends were. Despite all their antics and subtle jabs, he felt incredibly grateful to be among such good company. His own personal chunk of Hollywood magic.
Jesse finished his taco and leaned in to kiss Oscar’s temple before starting the car back up and pulling out of the parking lot. Oscar stared out the window at the sprawling desert passing them by. It struck him not for the first time how nice it was to be able to finally go out and explore the world after being cooped up for most of his adult life.
And it felt especially good to be able to do such a thing with the love of his life by his side.