A Kind of Truth (31 page)

“Rand, I—”

“No, please! Let me… try. I’m good at this usually. The words, the music, but—I didn’t count on you, Will. I’m not the same man I was when I first came to this city. Nothing is the same. I’m not cold anymore. I’m not lost. And when I’m worried I might lose my way, I’ve got someone in my corner who knows the way home.

“When you told me you lied from the start, when you said you knew you’d fall for me… well, it wasn’t like that for me. I didn’t know I’d fall for you. I didn’t expect you, Will. I woke up one morning next to a guy wearing funny pajamas with freckles on his nose and glitter around his eyes, and I only knew I’d better pay attention. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do know this isn’t a temporary feeling. This isn’t going away. You’re inside me now. I can live without fame or fortune, Will. But I don’t want to live without you. I love you.”

Will threw himself into my embrace and wrapped his arms tightly around my neck. I held him close and breathed in his scent. Everything around us faded. The students, the reporters, his mother waiting somewhere outside. It was background music. Not important. I pulled back slightly and waited for him to look in my eyes before I sealed my mouth over his. We let ourselves get lost in the moment, then rested our foreheads in silent communication. There was no need to question. No reason to hide. And fuck, it felt good.

“I love you too.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “But what about the band, your contract? You can’t walk away from all that. I don’t want you to.”

“We come first. Everything else will follow. It’s gonna be all right. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

I laced my fingers through his and tugged his hand, leading him out of the alcove. “Let’s go. Your audience awaits.”

Will chuckled, a sweet, musical sound that made my heart soar. “Are you ready for this?”

“I’m ready.”

I was more than ready. Conformity of any kind was a lie of omission. Maybe it felt necessary at times, but I’d found it wasn’t for me. It was time to shed the veil of ambiguity and be honest. It was time to fight for our truth by living proudly. No evasions, no uncertainty. Just love. The best kind of truth.

In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.

—George Orwell,
1984

THE LATE-MORNING
sun reflected off the windshield, making it difficult to see for a moment. I adjusted my sunglasses and turned in my seat to check the traffic before merging onto the interstate. The radio was on low, but I was listening to Will reading the directions to me from his iPad.

“Babe, I got this. The car came equipped with a reliable navigation system. We’re good. Just sit back and relax. No more backseat driving.”

“Hmph. You’re lucky I’m here or you’d be heading to Connecticut,” he snarked.

“True. But we’re out of the city now, and it’s smooth sailing from here. Tell me about your day.”

Will gave a half laugh and turned in his seat to face me. “You already know about my day. God, moving sucks. I’m glad we’re getting away for the weekend. The designer said the install would be done by Monday, but I’ll call her on Sunday to make sure. Worst-case scenario, we get a hotel room for a night or two. Or we can sleep on my old futon.”

“Hell no!” My brow knit in mock outrage at the very idea. I went into comedic detail, listing the many things wrong with his suggestion while he chuckled good-naturedly.

Will officially moved into the Tribeca condo soon after he’d made his “statement” to the press. Six months had passed, but I knew I’d never forget that day. Or the look of absolute horror on his mother’s face when she saw her son in full makeup, wig, and a glam outfit perfect for the stage but definitely eye-catching in the light of day. Priceless. Will’s brief comment to the reporter said so much more about who he was than how he was dressed.

“I’m a gay man. I’ve been out for a while but only proud recently. I love my family, but I can’t deny who I am for anyone’s sake. I am not ashamed to be gay. I’m lucky. My lifestyle is no different from most college students’. I’m very ordinary. I just happen to love a man. That may be considered ‘nontraditional’ or even sinful to some, but I know it’s a good thing. It’s love. Not a different love. Just… love. I won’t be moved by fear or convinced I’m wrong, and I refuse to deny the best parts of my life to make anyone else comfortable. Thank you.”

Will had read his carefully chosen words and then looked up at me with a wicked grin that made my heart flip in my chest. He’d forgiven me before I’d apologized. Once again, I was humbled.

It took a strength of character far greater than the norm to stand up to the status quo. To insist you be given the right to be yourself. Your whole self. Acts of bravery aren’t necessarily giant statements. Sometimes the most poignant ones came from those who live quietly but honestly. I wasn’t sure I’d ever manage the quiet part, but I liked my life now. I was protective of what I shared with Will. It wasn’t anyone’s business, but it wasn’t a secret, either. I was the lead singer of a hip, new band, who happened to be bisexual and lived with his boyfriend in New York City. If my sexuality was the only thing people focused on when they heard our songs, then they were missing the point.

Spiral’s first single, “This Music,” was released last September. It entered the charts in the top fifty and steadily climbed its way to number ten. When the second single went to number five a couple months later, it was clear that most people didn’t really give a crap who I slept with or that my boyfriend’s parents were radical conservatives. They liked the music. So far, so good.

Our burst into the limelight meant everything was about to change. Again. Traveling, touring, and endless radio appearances were part of our new normal. It was nonstop and frenetic, but I was enjoying the ride. It was outrageous to have this much fun doing something I loved… and get paid for it. The one thing I was adamant about was that my schedule meshed to some degree with Will’s. Will couldn’t take time off from school, but we managed to plan longer tours around his vacations. Yeah, I was greedy. I finally had a chance to have it all, and I wasn’t backing down. The key was perspective. Will was my number one. Everything else followed.

It was weird to think about how different my life was now. A year ago I lived with two buddies in a tiny East Village apartment. Now my boyfriend and I shared a luxury condo I’d recently purchased from the owner. As I listened to him talk about the furniture and lighting the designer was installing while we were on this short weekend getaway, I knew without doubt this was what was real and important. Not the bright lights, the cheering audiences, or the ticket sales.

“So no futon?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“What if your family wants to visit?”

“We’ll get them a hotel room.”

“O’Malley, you’re a—whoa. Listen!” Will leaned forward to adjust the volume on the radio before turning to me with a proud grin. “Congratulations. You’ve made it!”

I laughed as the opening beat of our newest single blasted through the car’s speakers. Will joined in and reached for my hand, pressing a small kiss on my fingers. “Golden hair, green flecks, and soul.” Months ago I’d said hearing our music on the radio would signal the beginning of my dreams coming to fruition. Now I knew better. That was background music. The real reward was the journey, and the gift was having someone you loved along with you on the ride.

I am the oddest combination of a control freak and a free spirit. I want everything at once. I forget every once in a while to measure the distance between goals. Music gives me wings, but Will shows me how to fly. It’s true I’m a little brash and reckless on occasion. I like getting my way, and I have a tendency to act without thinking things through. Call it an unfortunate family trait, an inflated ego, a heightened passion for justice, or gross immaturity in someone who should know better by now. I’m not sure I’ll ever really change, but Will seems to get me anyway.

The geek and the rock-star wannabe. The loudmouth and the quiet soul who speaks through music. He is my measure of peace when I get away from myself… and maybe I’m his catalyst to encourage him to share his magic with the world. Some people may never understand, but it doesn’t matter. This part of us isn’t for sale. This is for us only. A simple kind of truth.

A Better Than Story

When Curt Townsend, a successful young DC lawyer, attends his first gay wedding, he doesn’t expect anything more than a great evening out spent celebrating two lucky guys willing to commit to one another. He certainly doesn’t anticipate meeting someone like Jack Farinelli. Fourteen years Curt’s senior, Jack owns two businesses: a gay bar and a motorcycle shop. He’s gorgeous and self-assured, but Curt is positive they have nothing in common.

Jack is comfortable in his own skin. He’s attracted to Curt’s quick wit and easy manner but most of all, to their unexpected mutual love of baseball. As they forge a friendship based on their shared enthusiasm for the sport, they begin a journey which reveals how their differences might be the catalyst behind a growing attraction. Both men have experienced their share of pain, but they realize they need to set aside the past and learn to trust in a future if they are to have one together.

A Better Than Story

Paul Fallon is a fashion advertising guru. He’s a genius at dealing with difficult editors, art directors, and designers alike. He thrives on the chaotic atmosphere and constant challenges. But in his personal life, he’s hoping for peace and stability. Settling down with a nice doctor or lawyer sounds perfect. Anyone but an artist. He’s been there, done that, and he doesn’t want to relive the heartache.

Seth Landau is a model, occasional guitarist, and aspiring painter. He’s quirky, flighty, and wise beyond his years. Life has taught him some tough lessons, then given him opportunities he never dreamed of. He’s learned to appreciate the fragility of life and to express it in his work. Seth’s flare for the absurd combined with a supple mind and a beautiful body are too alluring for Paul to ignore. Against his best intentions, Paul is drawn to the younger man whose particular brand of crazy challenges Paul to accept that things aren’t always as they seem. Sometimes taking a chance is better than being safe.

A Right and Wrong Story

Escaping an abusive relationship left Luke Preston anxious and spouting panic-induced poetry. Desperate for a fresh start, Luke accepts a job remodeling a tired old beach house for a professional soccer player and his model girlfriend. While his passion is literature, not sports, focusing on the renovations eases his anxiety. Until the job he signed up for turns out to be more complicated than advertised.

Sidelined with a serious injury, soccer star Michael Martinez decides his beach house is the perfect place to recuperate. Remodeling might be the diversion he needs to keep his mind off his busted knee. Falling for the pretty designer with some quirky habits wasn’t on the drawing board. Unfortunately, Luke didn’t build a big enough closet for Michael to hide in. Having a star-powered sports career used to be all Michael lived for, but he’ll have to reevaluate his plans and find the right words if he wants to build more than a beach house with Luke.