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“Did he tell you that or are you profiling him again,” I snap. “Give me the damn phone, Sasha.” I hold out my hand, indignant. I hope that Sasha thinks my hand is shaking from my condition, not from the sense of dread coursing through my veins.
“Just know he cares very much, Mitch.” She drops the device in my palm and stands up. “I’ll be back in a little while.” Sasha exits the room, closing the door behind her.
The popular celebrity magazine’s website has a huge color photo of Gavin and me across the top, a computer generated tear down between us, ripping the picture in two. On top of that in large bold red letters the word FAKE is emblazoned.
My heart clenches and my breath staggers, which brings a fresh round of excruciating pain to my wounded chest. I skim the article, trying to convince myself this is all a lie, that Gavin would never do this without speaking to me first. But there it is, displayed for the entire world to see.
When I realize that it’s an actual interview with Gavin and not just some tabloid hack’s speculation, the phone nearly slips from my trembling fingers.
Reporter- “So what you’re saying is that your boyfriend, Mitch Hale, was actually a security expert planted to draw out a stalker?”
Gavin Walker- “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
Reporter- “How long had you been receiving threats?”
GW- “For a long time, apparently. I wasn’t told about them until I discovered a note for myself a little over a year ago.”
Reporter- “Why bring in an expert? You said that Mr. Hale used to track criminals for the FBI.”
GW- “He did. The notes began escalating and were accompanied by offensive items. That’s when we decided to hire someone to investigate.”
Reporter- “So you and Mr. Hale weren’t ever an item?”
GW- “No. He was always just an employee.”
Reporter- “But you are in fact gay. Is that correct?”
GW- “I am.”
&n
bsp; Reporter- “So where is Mr. Hale today? Have you caught the criminal that’s been harassing you?”
GW- “We haven’t, but something came up that Mr. Hale needed to take care of. We’ll be handing over the investigation to the authorities from this point on. I do wish him well on his future endeavors.”
I let the phone slide onto the rumpled sheets. My chest hurts more now than it did earlier, and not because of the bullet wound.
Gavin broke up with me in an interview. And left me a way to stay in the closet if I decided I was too much of a coward to face reality. Sasha says he cares. Fuck him, if he cared, he’d be here holding my hand, making the pain in my chest recede instead of letting go of my heart and letting it splatter all over the floor.
I push the button for the nurse, desperate for a hit of painkillers, hoping that enough of them will make everything better. As I slide off into oblivion I realize too late that no, nothing will ever be better again.
73
Gavin
My house feels cold, stark after being gone for over eight weeks.
Admit it, it’s dumping Mitch that’s leaving you shivering, not the house.
I drop my bag on the floor and trudge into the kitchen. As bright and sunny as it is today, it may as well be dark and raining with the heavy cloud that’s hanging over my head. I know I did the right thing, getting the stalker’s focus off of Mitch by publically letting everyone think that our relationship was bullshit, but it feels crappy to deny the reality of what we had together.
Even my surfboards don’t bring the same sense of longing. Used to be I could just look at them and feel peaceful and content. Not anymore. Now I feel completely adrift. Set out to sea without an anchor to keep me stable.
Fuck me. Johnny Utah was my anchor.
Despite the early hour, I grab a six-pack out of the fridge, jam a hat on my head and open the back door.
“Mr. Walker.”
