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Sometime late last evening our time (earlier over on the West Coast), a set of choice photographs were released through various blogs, Twitter gossipmongers, and entertainment news outlets. Bennett and I stared at pictures of us. Holding hands at dinner. Kissing each other’s cheeks and lips. Playful workout sessions with obvious flirtation. Photo after photo of us together, clearly as a couple. Each as candid as the last. None of them staged.
The barrage of responses from those who cared enough to share their opinion? All of them in my favor. I had never seen anything like it. Article after article, blogs and vlogs, all extolling sympathy for Connor Clarke. My “remarkable self-control” amazed the authors, as I had kept my secret hidden for so long. They understood that if I had disclosed my sexuality, it might have been perceived as an attempt to associate with a marginalized group for personal gain. In only a few hours, the narrative shifted radically from an excoriation of my alleged sexual harassment to compassion for my impossible predicament.
I navigated to a post gaining in likes and comments by the minute. I clicked Play on a selfie video of a popular woman who had a podcast dedicated to celebrity news,Fame Fileshosted by Emily Turner.
“Okay guys, you gotta see these pics that just dropped,” Emily said in a light soprano. “We covered Connor Clarke in an episode last week but I gotta, I justgotta,get ahead of my next episode and share right now what we’re seeing. Now, I can only speculate, but I’m thinking Winnie Bridgewater’s accusations might not hold up to the proof in these pictures. Okay, so like, I’m asking around. Dipping into my sources. Because if Clarke is gay, if he really is gay—which I don’t know why he would fake that—there’s gotta be others who can come forward to corroborate. I mean, I don’t think the man was celibate all these years, right? I have to say, this wasneveron my radar. Clarkenevergave off those vibes, right? But look at these pics, guys. They’re definitely authentic and he’s definitely enamored with this blond guy. Okay, we gotta do some digging and we’ll talk about this more on the next podcast episode. But… guys, holy shit.”
I pushed myself up so I could sit upright on the bed. Bennett did the same and fished for his phone on his nightstand. Together, we began scrolling.
“Oh. Oh wow,” Bennett said. He flashed his screen at me and read aloud, “‘Studio issues statement that contract with Bridgewater under review.’ You think they’ll cancel her?”
I hadn’t blinked in the past ten minutes. When I did, the lids stuck to eyes parched for moisture. “Who knows? Anything can happen right now. Whateverdoeshappen will be faster than you can imagine.” I looked at him, reached and grabbed his shoulder to get his attention. “Those pictures. They’ll figure out who you arerealquick. I think you said people at work try to get you dates. You’re… I mean, you’re fully out at work, right?”
Bennett’s phone dinged and a text came through. He showed me his screen again. A message from a coworker named Sheila sharing an article asking if he was in those pictures. “Yeah, I’m fully out. Don’t worry about that. Sheila here is inheavenabout this level of gossip, though.”
I didn’t let go of his arm. “This is about to get crazy. I’m sor—”
“Connor, you need to stop apologizing. I know what’s about to happen and I don’t care. All right?” A quirky smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I’m a celebrity now. So, y’know, I gotta roll with it.” I snorted and pushed my shoulder into his. To himself, he said, “Sheila is gonna absolutelylovethis.”
We returned to our phones and tag-teamed our issues. Bennett ignored the requests pouring in about him and instead kept track of all the updates as they came in. Bridgewater’s contract negotiation changed every few minutes as leakers shared everything they knew. I sorted through innumerable messages to identify the important ones. Namely, message after message from my agent giving me a specific time to call him because he had big news to share. My eyes popped at the amount of interview requests I received through DMs. I needed to filter this through my PR team…
Or did I?
I grabbed Bennett’s attention again. “Emily Turner DM’d me on Twitter. She’s available right now to talk.”
“Don’t you have a PR team?”
“The ones who told me to stay in the closet? Yes.”
Bennett’s brow went up. “You wanna go for it, Connor? Torch it all?”
“Yes. Fuck ’em. Fuck ’em all.”
“Call her.”
I did. Emily answered before the first ring finished.
“Mr. Clarke. It’s an honor to have you call. Can I assume this is all on the record?” Her voice was noticeably deeper, not as light and soprano as the one she presented in her podcast.
“Hey, Emily. Yes. Ask anything you want.”
“Well, let’s start with the biggest one. Can you confirm you’re a gay man?”
“I am. Always have been. Always will be.”
“And the man in the photos?”
“That’s my boyfriend. I’m back home right now in Massachusetts. My mother is sick and I need to take care of her.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mother. Who is the boyfriend?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Fair enough. Okay, so let’s dive in a little deeper, shall we? Tell me more about your relationship with Winnie Bridgewater.”
I stayed on the phone with Emily for twenty minutes. She assured me she didn’t record the audio of the conversation but was transcribing in real time everything I said. She’d drop the interview within the hour. Then, she congratulated me before we hung up, stating how handsome my boyfriend was and that we looked genuinely happy together.
My agent called at the predesignated time he had set in one of his emails. I thumbed the green circle. Before I could even speak, he said, “Connor, baby, it’s not even six here yet and I’m already juiced up with a raging hard-on and ready to fuckin’fuckfor you. How the hell is it hanging, man?”
