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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
It’s been a week since we left D.C., and sometimes I wish we were still at Mike and Miranda’s. Somehow, their little slice of the city seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere, and the sleep I got for those couple of nights was the best I’d gotten in years.
The D.C. show had been stressful. Some people in the audience had to be hauled away by security because they kept shouting about Lizette and I. Thankfully, I couldn’t hear most of the screams thanks to the music, but each time I gathered bits of what they said, the more overwhelmed I became.
For the most part, the tabloids have calmed down over the broken engagement. It’s liberating to be able to go on my phone and not be bombarded by notifications. But now it’s time to meet with Pete from our label.
In five minutes, to be exact.
Unfortunately, that means that Mike and I are back in L.A. Drew is with his family in Virginia for the weekend, and I’m glad for it, albeit a bit jealous. As we sit in the waiting area of P.G.B. Records, Drew and I text back and forth.
When my phone vibrates, I open Drew’s text to see a picture of him, his mother, and his father sitting together in the well-loved dining room. His mom holds up one of their most recent rescue dogs, a small chihuahua in the process of re-growing its hair after being in a hoarding situation. His dad holds up their overweight Russian Blue, better known as Thunderbolt, and my boyfriend is as handsome as ever with his untamed curls peeking out from underneath a baseball cap and his signature, crooked smile spread across his face.
I save the picture to my photos right as Pete’s assistant calls us back. It feels like an eternity has passed by the time we make our way across the massive expanse of the room and into the hallway beyond.
The slacks I wear feel a little tight around the waist, and the buttons of my shirt feel suffocating as well, like they’re digging into my flesh. I swallow down the giant knot in my throat as Pete’s assistant opens the door to his office.
In the eight and a half years since we met Pete at the show we played at The Antidote, he’s hardly changed. His hair is shorter, now reaching above his shoulders rather than falling down his back, but other than that, time has been good to him. Pete walks around from the side of his standing desk and greets us with open arms as soon as we walk in.
“Mike! Ash!” He beams. “So good to see you. Drink?”
The assistant looks at us with a well-rehearsed smile on her glossy lips.
“Water, please. Thank you,” Mike says.
“Make that two. Thanks.”
Pete motions for us to sit down on the couches he has set up in front of his desk. I plop down on one of the red sofas and cross my ankles, forcing myself not to bounce a foot while we speak. Mike takes a seat next to me while Pete perches on the couch next to us. As we exchange pleasantries, Pete’s assistant comes back with a pitcher of water and three pristine glasses. She pours us all a cup and then takes her leave.
As soon as we’re alone, Pete takes a sip of his water and asks, “So, what brings two of my favorite men here today? It’s a long way from New York.” He chuckles. “I figured you’d want to meet via Zoom or FaceTime as usual, so this is a delightful surprise.”
Mike shakes his head. “Some things are better done in person, don’t you think?”
Pete nods. “I suppose so.”
Mike looks at me, and I know that's my sign to open my mouth and talk, but as soon as my lips part, I freeze up like maybe they’ll forget I’m here if I sit still long enough.
“Are you okay, Ash?” Pete asks, leaning in. “Whatever it is, we’re all friends here. Though I must admit, I was a bit taken aback by the news of your broken engagement.” His lips turn down and his brow furrows.
“Well,” I choke. Immediately, I lunge for the water in front of me and take a long sip. Before I continue, I think about the picture Drew just sent me; the happiness that’s written all over his face. It might suck to be me right now, but it’ll suck much, much more if I don’t come out with it already. I look down at my shoes and blurt out, “I had to break things off with Lizzy. Because. Well, because I’m—gay.”
Pete stares at me and Mike pats my knee in encouragement. Even the Xanax I took ahead of time to get me through this meeting has lost its effect now that we’re here.
“Gay?” Pete sounds out the word like it’s something he’s never heard of.
“Gay,” Mike and I confirm.
Pete blinks rapidly, like he’s trying to clear something from his line of vision. He opens his mouth to speak, then snaps it shut like a snapping turtle. “I’m not sure I know what to say about that.” He holds up his hands defensively. “Not because I’m against it, or anything—”
“But I was with a woman. Publicly,” I finish his train of thought. It’s what everyone else has said, too. Freddie Mercury was with Mary for a long while before that ended, too. People also seem to forget all about Elton John’s ex-wife. The list of gay men who were in heterosexual relationships before coming out could go on for miles. Maybe it’s shocking that people are still closeted in the twenty-first century, but I’d be willing to bet there are more closeted people in heterosexual marriages and partnerships than anyone cares to admit. Maybe one day it won’t be like that anymore.
At the end of the day, it’s terrifying to come out after I’ve made an image and a name for myself. The idea that everything I’ve worked so hard for could shatter overnight is what kept me back from coming out and admitting the truth to myself for so long, despite my love for Drew.
I’ve always feared that if I came out and our fans didn’t approve, maybe I’d go back in time and wind up in the trailer with my parents again, where they’d throw ashtrays and beer bottles at me while calling me all the horrible homophobic slurs they could think of.
It had never stopped them before, and that was long before I knew I liked men.
The thumping in my heart speeds up. I close my eyes tightly and picture Drew’s smile as I force the memories of my childhood out of my mind.
