Page 42 of Forced Proximity

Even in the gym bathroom – which is the least luxurious of all the bathrooms – I can shower under a double-headed nozzle, hop into the steam room if I want and get dressed privately, while Zane sets up in a separate area within the same bathroom.

The water hits every pore and vanilla and coconut steam rises. This double-headed nozzle is perfection. Someday after a shift, I’m going to sneak down here for an hour. But tonight, I don’t have the luxury of time. I’m already antsy that Justin’s not within shouting distance. I’m out and snugged into an ultra-plush white guest robe within five minutes.

My God. An arsenal of supplies spews across the marble vanity. ‘It looks like Sephora threw up in here.’ I thumb one of a million brushes. ‘What the hell is all this stuff?’

Zane waves their arm over the products. ‘We’ve got concealer, contouring, highlighting, blush, eye shadow, lashes, eyebrow gel, pencils, lip liner, lipsticks, foundation … the list goes on.’

I scrunch my nose. ‘My God. Do women do this every day?’

‘Some women. And some men. And some that don’t have identified genders.’ Zane winks and motions to the strategically placed glitter on their face. They spin the chair around and point. ‘Sit.’

A moment later, soft brush bristles meet my hair. Mmmmm. I really need to get my hair done more often. Who knew brushing and wrapping curlers would send tingles through my scalp?

‘All right, since we’re never alone, let’s get to it.’ Zane dips a brush into foundation and swirls. ‘How’s it going with you and the prince?’

The brush sweeps across my cheeks, and my eyes flutter close. ‘You know, I didn’t want the job?’

The brush stops moving. ‘Why not?’

‘I feel like a jerk, but I knew who Justin was. I mean, most people do, right? I watched some interviews and reviewed his file. Honestly, he seemed like such a dick. I mean, the whole Tonight Show thing? That was the most awkward celebrity interview I think I’ve ever seen. He sat, unsmiling, looking like he wanted to bolt off stage.’

Zane dabs the sponge in liquid. ‘Oh God, I remember that interview. I felt so bad for him. He had Norovirus. Stubborn ass refused to cancel even though me and literally everyone else begged him to. He even puked in a trash can right before he walked on stage. The next day he sent crazy generous apology gifts to the entire staff.’

Oops. Okay, now I feel like a jerk. ‘Okay, okay. But that one video from two years ago. The fan that wanted the autograph and he—’

‘Oh trust me. I know exactly which one you’re talking about,’ Zane says. ‘The one where the sweet guy asked for Justin’s autograph and Justin shoved him, then looked like he wanted to take a swing, right?’

Yep, that one. Depending on which version you saw, there was either the slew of Justin’s swear words that were bleeped out to the point it sounded cartoonish, or the raw version with his creative variations of the f-word that had people covering their ears.

‘I hate social media,’ Zane says. ‘So, this guy followed us around all week. Justin must’ve signed a dozen of his things. You know the guy just hawks that shit on eBay, but whatever. After a while, Justin and I both started to get irritated, and Justin ignored him. This dude was tailing us forever, like full-on creeper-shadow, then finds us outside of a coffee shop.’

I straighten in my chair.

‘But you know what isn’t shown on that video?’ Zane says, shaking up a bottle of liquid shadow. ‘Him doing everything he could to get Justin riled up. He said Justin’s movies suck, called him a pussy, whatever. But nothing worked. But then, this guy shifted to me. The homophobic, hatred shit that flew from his mouth is when Justin lost it. He was defending me. So yeah, the video shows me stepping in between the two and calming Justin down. But it was because Justin was protecting me, not ’cause he’s an asshole who didn’t want to sign an autograph.’

Oh God. Everything in me both tightens and melts, and I’m not sure how to deal with these conflicting emotions. Between this, the tornado fundraiser, the interviews … I did exactly what I shouldn’t do. I based an opinion on someone without knowing the facts.

‘That’s some impressive editing. I had no idea,’ I say, making a quick mental note to have the security team see if they can dig up this guy’s contact info and double check that he’s not the one sending these videos.

I close my eyes as Zane fills in my brows. ‘But still … there’s a lot of videos. Like the one with the E! reporter where he looked so irritated the man released him after a single question, and a flurry of red-carpet interviews with similar expressions.’

Zane pauses. ‘He gets like that with the press. But he’s nothing like that in person, especially with people he trusts.’

‘I’ve started to realize that.’ I trail my finger across the soft robe fabric. ‘He seems like a genuinely decent guy. So why create that facade? Why not just be your authentic self?’

Zane makes circular motions on my eyes and silence fills the air. ‘I suppose for some people it’s scary. I’m pretty open – what you see is what you get. But for those like Justin who may have a fear, let’s say, of rejection, it’s easier to have a persona and deal with rejection than to be yourself and deal with rejection.’

That seemed perfectly logical – for someone who isn’t rocking an eight-pack, will win People’s Sexiest Man Alive some year soon and lives in a mansion. ‘He opened up a bit about his family, so I’m sure those dynamics come into play. But still, he’s the rich, good-looking kid from Nashville, who became a Hollywood A-lister. I cannot fathom he’s dealt with a lot of real rejection.’

Zane dabs an eye pencil against their wrist. ‘People make so many assumptions. I get that all the time. Someone thinks they figured me out based on a few reels they’ve seen on non-binary folks. Even though it’s who I am, it’s not the only thing I am, you know?’ Zane sucks in a breath. ‘For Justin, it’s the same. People see photos or watch him on the red carpet, and they think they know. But there’s so much more to the picture.’

What does that even mean? Like how Justin is at home? Or how he thinks? Or his dark family life. Stop digging into personal stuff. Since this isn’t related to the stalker, it’s really none of my business.

Zane cups my chin and moves my face to the side. ‘I imagine this happens with you. Is it fair to say when people meet you, they draw immediate conclusions?’

I stiffen. ‘Like what?’

Zane shrugs. ‘You’re so damn confident, you know? Like, your handshake alone scared the shit out of me.’ Zane snaps the cover back on the powder. ‘They probably assume you have it all – athletic ability, beauty, intelligence. Health. No one would suspect that you have a severe chronic condition.’