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Once I was satisfied that my tie was on straight, my breath was minty fresh, and my hair was stylishly disheveled, I grabbed my phone and keys and headed for the front door.
“Be good, and don’t sleep on my pillow,” I warned my cat, Cary, who was sitting on the arm of my sectional, staring at me.
Ha. I was silly, thinking that this headstrong creature would listen to anyone, let alone me.
I’d made good on my promise to Reed. We went to that animal shelter not long after I came out of rehab and adopted cats. We named them Cary and Grant, our Hollywood icon in feline form. Of course, Reed’s cat, Grant, a tabby-Maine coon mix, was friendly and adored scritches and belly rubs, whereas mine, a ginger-haired devil, hissed and clawed at me if I dared to reach out and pet him.
The only time Cary cuddled up to me was in bed, at night, on the pillow next to mine. Otherwise, his royal grumpiness sauntered around my house, clawing at the furniture, and staring at me with those big green eyes of his like I was the enemy.
The enemy who fed him specially formulated cat food and bought him a three-level scratching palace.
But despite Cary’s obvious displeasure at being my roommate, I liked the company, and the knowledge that someone was waiting at home for me. It made it less lonely. And I had to admit that while Cary didn’t like physical touch—mine at least, Reed was another matter—he was a good listener. Not that I would tell anyone that, but it was true. I’d lie in bed at night and confess my innermost thoughts and secrets to my cat.
My Hollywood life was so glamorous.
I shook my head at my ridiculous musings and checked myself one last time in the foyer mirror. I was good to go.
I activated the alarm and shut the door behind me.
The limo was already parked in my driveway. The back window rolled down and I spotted Henn, waving at me.
“Wow, I haven’t seen you this dressed up in ages. Looking good, Tate.”
The driver got out and opened the back door for me.
I thanked him and slid in beside Henn, who looked glamorous as always. Henn was somewhere around fifty, a former actor herself, and she was still model gorgeous. She’d had work done, like everyone in town, but at least when she smiled her face moved. With long auburn hair and dark blue eyes, she appeared ethereal, delicate.
“Thanks. I don’t mind the suit, but the tie is already annoying.”
“Much like your complaining. Suck it up and stop fidgeting,” she replied and gave me a glare that meant business.
Delicate, she was not.
“Sorry, mom.”
Henn rolled her eyes. “Why are you nervous? Besides the obvious fact that this is your first red carpet appearance in two years.”
“My date. I wish I’d gone without. I hate making small talk with new people. It’s so goddamn painful. Not just that, I’m tired. Tired of pretending I adore these women. When I don’t.”
Henn glanced at me with knowing eyes.
“You could’ve gone solo. No one thinks twice. And you don’t need to keep up appearances anymore with fake dates.”
The limo began to move as we headed out of my neighborhood. I rolled down the window to get some fresh air.
“I can’t seem to stop doing just that. It’s stupid, but why can’t I just… fuck, I can’t even say it.”
I still couldn’t tell people I was gay. Even though Reed and Henn knew. They’d caught me on occasion with one man or another, so of course they knew. And my therapist, and my sponsor. But despite all the progress I’d made, I still wasn’t there.
It had been drilled into me for years that being gay in my stepfather’s house was a fate worse than death. Fuck, Kenny had a hair trigger temper about everything, but queers, liberals, feminists, and kids topped the list. I learned to keep my mouth shut no matter what.
Even then, it wasn’t enough.
“If you can’t say it, you’re still not ready,” Henn whispered.
“Will I ever be?”
Henn sighed and patted my hand. “Only you can make that call, Tate. I’m not in your shoes. It’s a big step. One that you have to be prepared for. Especially in the public eye.”
