A Kind of Truth (30 page)

“Of course not, but—”

“Listen…. Love is like a bagel.”

I couldn’t help it. I rolled my eyes. “George, you had me for a minute but—”

“It’s a never-ending circle. No two are exactly alike, and best of all they come in many flavors.”

“That really makes no sense.” I sighed.

“It doesn’t have to. I’m an old man. I’ve earned the right to talk crazy because I’ve learned a few lessons in life. Some that took longer than they should have. I’ve learned not to judge how others find happiness or love. I have a gay son I love deeply, but there was a time I tried to change what I didn’t understand. I thought it was my job to teach him my version of how to be a man. Being a parent doesn’t make you smarter. Perfect idiots procreate every day. A good parent learns from their children as much as they learn from us. Perhaps William’s parents will understand one day—”

“Not likely.”

“Then he’s lucky he has you.”

George patted my shoulder sympathetically before waving to the first customer of the morning. “Good morning, Mr. Katzmann! How are you this fine Tuesday?”

I watched him greet the middle-aged businessman with his usual affable style. Lucky? I doubted Will felt particularly lucky at the moment.

BY TEN
o’clock I was a jittery mess. My chat with George earlier made me anxious to act. I didn’t have a solid plan yet, but I was done waiting for the right time. I untied my apron and waved at George, then glanced at my phone and scrolled through my missed calls and messages. I stopped at the most recent one from Benny. All in caps.

HEADS UP. DAD GIVING STATEMENT THIS MORNING. W IS MEETING MOM ON CAMPUS.

When?

NOON.

George lifted his hand and gave me a meaningful look that clearly said “Get your shit together, Randall” as I pocketed my cell and hurried out the door. I pulled out my phone again when I stepped into the Starbucks on the next block. My phone lit up with another round of messages. Most were from Tim, Cory, and Mike, and a couple from Ed. It was more than I could deal with before a decent cup of coffee. I placed my order and waited at the far end of the counter. My gaze wandered to the flat-screen television anchored on the opposite wall.

“Gubernatorial hopeful Charles Sanders has released a statement in response to his stance on gay rights in light of a recently leaked story that his son was allegedly homosexual.”

“My son is a talented musician with a bright future. He does not live a homosexual lifestyle. As for my campaign, I remain steadfast in my beliefs. I do not support the homosexual agenda. And neither does any member of my family, including my son.”

A young woman in a floppy hat and yellow sundress looked up at the screen and shook her head. “That guy’s a douche.”

I nodded absently and picked up my latte just as my phone rang. Ed.

“Hi.”

“Man, I’ve been trying to reach you all day! Have you seen the fucking news? This shit is blowing up! One minute it’s a rumor attached to a concert photo, and the next it’s a political fucking headache! Will’s daddy’s people have been calling all morning, threatening to level us unless we drop your ass like a hot potato. He wants to destroy you, Rand. What the hell?”

My pulse revved ominously. I swallowed hard and made myself take a drink of my latte before answering. The ups and downs of fame and fortune, I thought without humor. I didn’t have either yet, but I had people already trying to bring me down.

“What are you gonna do? Are you going to fold to an irrelevant political hopeful with a platform based on hate? Just curious.”

“No. I’m not. Our deal stands. We sell you as bi and ride this shitstorm of free press. If anything, I’ve got to get you into the studio to record immediately. We need to up your release date and—”

“Not so fast, Ed. Look….” I walked toward the window and let my gaze wander to the traffic on the street. “I’m not going to lie. At all. I’m bi but I won’t lie about Will. We can’t win if we’re like them.”

“It isn’t going to sell, Rand,” he huffed impatiently into the phone. “You gotta distance yourself. Stay away from him. We’ll make a statement of our own when the time is right, but—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I’m not staying away from him and I won’t keep quiet.”

“It won’t sell,” he repeated.

“It will. I’ve got a good feeling about this. But either way, it’s a chance I have to take. In the meantime, I know how to get Mr. Sanders’s team to back off.”

“How? You got some shade to throw at him?”

“I do. Tell him you know all about Martin Kanzler, and if that doesn’t ring an immediate bell, tell him to ask his wife. I’ll talk to you later.”

I TOOK
a taxi home and had the driver wait at the curb for me while I grabbed my guitar. Lifestyles of the not-so-rich and not-yet-famous, I mused as I directed him back toward NYU. My plan was ill conceived… as in, I didn’t really have one. The only thing I knew for sure was that Will was in the building. Everything else was a crapshoot. In times of stress, a musician always turned to his instrument. I was relying on Will to be predictable. If he was meeting his mom at noon on campus, he would be sitting at the same damn piano he always used to practice. He could lose himself in music and then surface to the real world when he didn’t have a choice.

My cab pulled up behind a black Escalade idling near the crosswalk. I sensed trouble. I noted the news van parked at the corner probably wasn’t a coincidence, either. Fuck, I felt trapped. I could only imagine how Will felt. I hefted my guitar case in my right hand and moved to the sidewalk, only to be stopped by a hand on my arm a moment later.

“You have no business here! What do you think you’re doing?”

I turned to face Will’s irate-looking mother. Mrs. Sanders was perfectly coiffed and beautifully dressed in a lightweight beige linen dress and a fashionable, chunky rhinestone necklace. She had a certain aura of authority about her, but my presence had obviously thrown her off stride. She looked a little… shaken. I gave her a cocky grin I assumed would piss her off and held out my hand. I chuckled when she left me hanging. I expected nothing less.

“I’m just a private citizen taking a walk on a fine day in New York City. And I’m here to see Will. You?”

“You have done more than enough damage. Go away and leave my son and my family alone. This ends now. Once he gives his stateme—”

“What statement is that?”

“The one cutting ties from you and your kind,” she hissed in a low, menacing tone. “He is a good man from a good family and—”

“Only one part of that sentence is true. It’s pathetic how people like you point fingers at others to hide your own sins. But it’s really fucking sad when a mother does it to her son. You’re exposed, Mom. I know all about you. I got your number. And Mr. Kanzler’s.”

Before she could respond, another woman approached from inside the building. She had the unmistakable look of a reporter. The bubbly type with an overly friendly “you can trust me” smile on her face. I didn’t trust her at all.

“Hi there, aren’t you the guy from the band?”

“I am.” I gave her a devilish smile and offered her the hand Mrs. Sanders refused to shake.

“Do you have a comment for—?”

“No. He does not. We can resume this conversat—”

“What’s the name of your band? What do you have to say about Mr. Sanders’s claim that his son is not gay?” The reporter ignored her and kept a steady barrage of questions. “Is William Sanders your boyfriend? Are you a couple?”

With every question Mrs. Sanders was becoming visibly unglued. Her bracelets jangled noisily as she waved her hands, commanding the young woman to stop. I made my escape inside the building as the two women scuffled about the public’s right to know.

OVER THE
past eight months I’d come to know the staff manning the reception desk at the Performing Arts Center. Today it was Ray. He was a middle-aged African American man with graying hair and a beer belly that challenged the buttons on his light purple, short-sleeved shirt. He greeted me with a wide grin and a bro fist-bump.

“How you doin’ today, Rand the Man?”

“I’m all right. Hey, would you mind letting Will know I’m here?”

“He’ll be downstairs in a minute. He has to deal with that group over there.” Ray pointed to two men and a woman at the opposite corner of the lobby near the glass doorway.

“Who are they? What’s going on?”

“They all just got here. I think they’re from a local news station, but I overheard them say they’re moving to a nearby location to do a press conference when his mom gets here. I think they’re trying to get a private quote from the young man ahead of the show. Vultures,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.

“She’s outside. Why are they allowed in the building? He doesn’t want that kind of exposure, Ray,” I whispered.

“As long as they’re peaceful… what can I do? I warned him they were here. I thought he’d refuse, but he said he’d be down in a few minutes.”

“Oh.”

Ray was still talking. Family statement nearby. His mother. Scandal. Poor Will. Ridiculous mess. And they better take it elsewhere quick ’cause he didn’t want them creating a riot on his watch. I tuned in at the last part and smiled. My first honest-to-God smile in days.

Ray furrowed his brow. “What are you up to, son?”

“Nothing at all, sir.”

I slid my acoustic guitar from its case and strapped it over my shoulder. There was no time to waste tuning my instrument. I had to go for it. I strummed the first few lines of the song I’d just finished. Music by Will, lyrics by both of us. Ray gave me a curious look, but he didn’t seem overly alarmed. He ran into artsy weirdos walking around playing instruments at all hours of the day. It was when I started singing that his brow furrowed and his expression morphed into alarm. I pretended not to notice as I raised my voice and sang loud enough to ensure I had the attention of every person wandering into the lobby.

“It’s a dangerous kind of music. So beautiful but I’m haunted—”

“Rand, quiet down!”

I ignored him and wandered toward the middle of the lobby, then stepped onto a raised planter near the grand staircase. The added two and a half feet gave me a platform to be heard and the height required to see Will when he entered. I shifted my gaze between the doorway separating the elevators from the main lobby and the reporters watching from the corner. I sang loudly and projected my voice so it rang throughout the lobby. It didn’t take long for my audience to grow. It was lunchtime and classes must have been getting out. Everyone loved a clown. For a minute or two anyway. I didn’t have much time before Ray would be forced to call for reinforcements.

I ended the song with a sweeping motion across the strings. My small group of fans clapped wildly. I was about to start another when I heard a familiar voice.

“You’re unbelievable.”

I looked up and did a double take.

Will was beautiful to me always. Never so much as when he knocked me sideways by doing something completely unexpected. The blond, spiked wig, ripped jeans, and red, short boots were a surprise. And then there was the eyeliner and gloss. He was definitely not dressed for a normal day at school.

“You look amazing.”

I pushed my guitar behind my back and hopped down from the planter. I couldn’t stop my smile from taking over my face as I moved toward him, though I wasn’t sure of my reception.

“I’m here to make a statement,” he said with a cocky grin as I closed the distance between us. “You may want to clear out of here. A team of reporters will be here soon with my pissed-off mom. It might get ugly.”

I gave him a brief once-over and swallowed hard. Fuck, he was fearless.

The crowd parted when the music stopped. I smiled at the few “that was killer, man” comments and caught Ray’s relieved expression before he tottered back to his post behind the reception desk.

“The reporters are standing in the corner near the front. They look ready to pounce. And your mom’s outside. She’s gonna love you in that getup, by the way.”

“It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks now. I’m doing things my way.”

“I’m proud of you. I—I need a minute. Come with me.”

I grabbed his elbow and pulled him with me toward the reception desk before he could protest. There was an alcove behind Ray’s desk that was relatively private. For now. He gave me an impatient look but didn’t say a word. We stared at each other for a long moment. I wanted to pull his wig off and wipe away the makeup so I could run my fingers through his hair and see his freckles. I wanted to hold him close and beg him to forgive me.

“Rand, I can’t do this now. I want to give those reporters my statement first and—”

“What are you going to say?”

“I’m telling the truth.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “What’s the truth?”

“I’m gay.”

“That’s all?”

He chuckled. “No, it’s only part of the truth.”

I quelled the urge to crush him against me and inclined my head. “What’s the other truth?”

“I’m proud. I wish my dad success, but I’m not going to deny who I am to make that happen for him. I refuse to be ashamed for who I am anymore.” He ran his hand over his wig with a lopsided grin. “Every part of me.”

“Good.”

“And I’m not taking second place behind anyone or anything. I’m—”

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that. You—”

“I meant it.” I set my hand over his mouth and pulled him against me. “Listen to me… please.”

“I’m listening.” He pushed my hand away and inclined his head in a manner that suggested I’d better make this good.

“You come first. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Leah knew about your dad. I told myself I was protecting you. I didn’t want you to worry about her. Or them. Maybe there was a selfish part of me that just wanted to ignore the danger signs because I was afraid they’d fuck things up.”

“For the band.”

“No. For us.” I bit the inside of my cheek and looked behind me to see how much time I had before people came looking for him. I had to take the chance while I had it.