Ryder's Boys

by Cody Ryder

  I spent the following day updating my portfolio and resume to include the photos I had taken of Will’s apartment, and charged ahead sending out my work with a new vigor. Maybe if it I were hired somewhere, it would help Will make the decision to go back to design school. Of course I knew that was a long shot, and that things were much more complicated than that. Sitting at my desk in my tiny studio, I thought about the ways I could help Will. In the end, the issue was that he was bent on making his mom happy. She seemed to think she was doing it all for his benefit, but I knew that her reasons were selfish ones. I concluded that the best way, the only way, would be for Linda to encourage him to go back to school. That would never happen. Not on its own, at least.

  I couldn’t talk to her. She barely even acknowledge my existence as a human being, let alone someone who had any right to be talking to her about her son’s life – after all, to her I was just Will’s photographer. Someone she liked and respected would have to talk to her, and I knew just the person – the only person – who could do it.

  Frankie and I met for brunch at Mr. Nice, which was the only place I was familiar with that was a safe haven for celebrities (and the only one that would let a regular old guy like me in). She looked tired, and when I asked she explained that she had been doing the voice recording for her character in the animated movie she was in, all while showing up for a few guest roles on TV.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, taking a sip of her espresso. “Did you know when Michael J. Fox was making ‘Back to the Future’, he was shooting ‘Family Ties’ during the day and coming on set for the movie at night? He barely got any sleep. A real inspiration. Anyway, you wanted to talk about Will? Everything alright?”

  “Everything is wonderful,” I said. “But I’m worried about him. And by extension, about us.”

  “You don’t like keeping things a secret,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Frankie was like April – it was hard to hide anything from them.

  “Yes,” I said. “But more than that I don’t think the reason why we are keeping things secret makes sense. It’s to protect Will’s career and the identity and persona he’s built up with it, but I know that Will isn’t fulfilled by his work. I understand that the pressure he’s facing is more than anything I’ve ever had to deal with. I know that it's more than just wanting to please his fans, its wanting to please Linda. It’s not what he really wants. I love him, and I want to see him go after what he really wants, because otherwise I know it’s going to catch up with him later.”

  She nodded. “Yes, Will has had a crazy amount of responsibility on his shoulders since he was young, and a lot of it wasn’t his choice to carry. It might not be possible for him to step away from that life, even if he’s doing it halfheartedly. Because you know, his whole heart might not be in it, but it isn’t like he hates it or anything. Will is a performer. He loves the spotlight.”

  “I know. But he doesn't have to give up his singing career, I think he needs to take hold of it. Did you know he used to write his own music?”

  “No.”

  “He’s recently started again. He doesn't have to keep doing the pop star act, he could write and perform his own music on his own schedule while going back to school. It’s just Linda who is responsible for keeping him on this path.”

  “Yes, I agree with that. So what will you do? Have you talked to him about this?”

  “I have, and as you might expect he’s really sensitive about it. I can do what I can to push him, but in the end I’m not sure I can do anything.”

  “Because of Linda.”

  “Right.”

  The waiter came around to fill up our coffees, and tray of freshly baked bagels with cream cheese and lox, on the house. The perks of being a celebrity. Frankie took a thoughtful bite from one of the bagels, then a sip of her coffee. She nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll talk to her.”

  I probably should’ve expected her to have known what I was going to ask, but I was still surprised.

  “I guess I’m the only one who can. I don't know if she’ll listen to me, no matter how much she likes me, but you’re right. Will needs our help, even if he doesn't know it.” She laughed. “But in the end it's a choice that he’ll have to make.”

  “You’re right. But it definitely wouldn’t hurt to give him a nudge.”

  “She can be a difficult woman, but she’s not completely cold. I’ll need to wait until the right time to bring this up.”

  Driving home, I felt happy about the situation. I knew that Linda really liked and trusted Frankie, so I was optimistic about her chances of getting through to her.

  I spent the next week eager for news, but got no word back from Frankie. The week after that I had all but forgotten about it. – I had to, or else I would’ve spent every moment of the day wondering what was going to happen and if Linda would turn a cold shoulder to Frankie too. She loved Frankie, and I figured that it wouldn't come to that point.

  Will finished work on his new album, and he brought me in to the studio one night after all the recording technicians and everyone else had already left for the day. We sat together on the couch in the studio mixing room and listened to it. When I asked him what he thought about it, he only said that he was sure the fans would love it. When we came back to the apartment, I asked him to play me a song on his guitar. He sat on the bamboo mat, leaning over his acoustic guitar as he strummed a cover of Van Morrison’s “Have I Told You Lately”. I sat cross legged on the ground, my chin in my hand as I gazed up at him with stars in my eyes and my heart quickening in my chest.

  He smiled at me as his fingers drew out the last chord of the song, letting it slowly fade out on its own. “I love you, Luke,” he said softly, setting the guitar to the side and kissing me softly on my lips.

  “I love you too,” I said, smiling. I stroked his thigh, enjoying the honed curves of his muscle.

  “I want to show you something,” he said, and went over the bookshelf against the wall. He pulled out a brown leather portfolio case and brought it over to the mat, and then unzipped the gold zipper around its edge. From it he pulled out a series of large prints, and I saw that they were diagrams for a building. He laid them out across the bamboo mat and on closer look I realized that they were designs for a house. I recognized the inner courtyard garden and all the elements that Will had told me about his dream project.

  “This is your house,” I said.

  “These are my designs from my last year in the program. I’ve never showed them to anyone except my professor. They’re not perfect, lots of things I’d need to learn to turn it into a viable home.”

  “It looks pretty incredible to me,” I said.

  “I want to build it for us someday,” he said, and I smiled at him.

  “If you say things like that I might actually believe you.”

  “I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about what you said to me the other week, and I’ve decided that I’m not going to sign a new contract.”

  I nearly choked. “What?”

  “It’s the first step in a long process, but I’m going to tell Michael, and my mom, that I don’t plan on renewing my contract for more albums. And then I’m going to go back to school for this stuff.”

  It was probably the last thing I could’ve expected Will to say. I leapt up and threw my arms around him, kissing him long and hard. “Will, that’s great! You don't know how happy and relieved I am to hear you say that. Honestly, I can’t even tell you. I’m in shock right now.”

  “Our relationship has opened my eyes to a lot of things,” he said. “The biggest thing being that I need to take control over my own life, because you’re right. I’ve lived my whole life being told what’s best for me, and the only person who ever encouraged me otherwise was my dad. Until I met you. I’m nearly twenty three. It’s time I made my own decision about my future.”

  I hugged him tightly, holding his body close against mine. “I’m so proud of you,” I told him.

  Maybe I
hadn't needed to ask Frankie for her help after all. But then I remembered what she had said – Will needed our help, even if he didn’t know it. Telling his mom about his plans to abandon her dream for him would probably be the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

  It had been a couple days since I had last been back to my apartment, so I decided to go home for the night. For the very first time, Will came with me. We had avoided coming to my place to minimize any chance of being seen by the press or paparazzi, but tonight we both shared the feeling like maybe it didn't even matter so much anymore. If Will would be retiring from the pop scene, then maybe it meant our relationship would no longer need to be secret. At least that’s what I thought; neither of us had actually voiced that idea out loud.

  “Don’t expect much,” I told him, parking my car in the lot. “My place could probably fit inside your kitchen. Also it’s been a while since I’ve cleaned up.”

  “I can't wait to do it all over your apartment,” he said as we walked through the complex towards my unit. The chatter of televisions and muffled thumping of ranchera music drifted from behind the closed doors of the apartments on the way to mine, a clear reminder that we were no longer in the fancy, well soundproofed building that Will lived in. But he didn’t seem to mind, or even notice. “I think that we’ve done it across every single square inch of my place. It’ll be fun to mix things up for once.”

  “Shh,” I laughed, poking him in the ribs. “I have very conservative neighbors.”

  “Well, I hope those walls are padded, because they’ll be getting a performance tonight.”

  I was about to tickle him when I stopped dead, my attention caught by my apartment door up ahead.

  “Luke?”

  “What the…fuck?” I whispered, my body tensing up.

  “What is it?” Will lowered his voice to match mine, thick with concern. “What’s the matter?”

  I pointed up ahead. “My door is open.”

  It wasn’t wide open, but I could see that it was ajar, with a slit of black leading into the dark interior of the apartment. My pulse started to race, and I ran through my mind if I had maybe forgotten to close the door all the way, or lock it. Not possible. I never would’ve forgotten something like that.

  The two of us approached very slowly, walking close to the wall. When we reached the door, I looked at the handle and saw that it wasn’t broken. I gave Will a silent glance and he looked back at me with a worried expression. “I’ll call the police,” he whispered.

  “No, wait,” I said. “If they come while you’re here, people are going to see you.”

  “Fuck it, Luke. I think we should call the police.””

  I held up my hand. “Just wait, okay?” Then I reached out and gave the door a push, and it opened slowly. I peeked into the dark apartment and could see my computer chair turned over in tilted square of light coming in from the window. “Shit,” I whispered. The apartment was definitely empty, it wasn't big enough to hide anyone. I stepped inside and flicked on the light. My heart sank. “Fuck,” I said in stunned disbelief. My place was trashed. My computer desk was all pulled apart, the drawers pulled out, the computer itself missing, the monitor gone except for the cables. They even took the keyboard and mouse.

  “Jesus,” Will muttered. “Luke, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so fucking angry.”

  They took everything. Computer…TV… It was then that I realized that something way more valuable than any of those things had been in my room – something way more sensitive. I dove to the floor and flipped up the comforter on my bed to look underneath where I stored my camera. Oh please, please…

  My vision whirled and contracted like I was going crosseyed. I felt lightheaded. “My camera’s gone,” I said flatly.

  “Fuck,” Will spat. “I’m calling the fucking cops right now. You at least have cloud backups of your photos everything, right?

  “Will,” I said, unable to keep the panic from seeping into my voice. “My camera is gone. The bag, the memory card. They have our photos.”

  It took him just a second to understand what I was talking about. The memory card with all the photos of our private sessions were in my bag. And now they were gone.

  Eleven

  We sat around the dining table at Will’s apartment, exhausted and shocked. I had called the police soon after I had confirmed what was missing, and though Will was insistent he stayed with me, I forced him to wait in my car until the police left and there were would be no more curious eyes peeking out of apartment doors and windows. Once the officers filled out their report, and I locked my apartment up (though there wasn’t much left worth locking) and the two of us returned to his place, silent as we both went brewed over the obvious possible ramifications of what had happened.

  “Well,” Will said with a tired laugh. “I guess the singing career would’ve been over one way or another. Once those pictures leak out, I won't really have a choice.” He laughed again, more of a sharp exhale of air from his nose, and shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Oh God, the aftermath. Neither of us will be able to go outside for weeks. And Frankie too…”

  My chest hurt. I couldn't even remember the last time I’d felt so bad about anything in my life. “It’s my fault, Will. I should’ve deleted the photos from the card…or shouldn’t have even taken them in the first place. I should’ve known better than that.”

  “It’s not your fault,” he said, shaking his head. “They were our private photos. We shouldn't have to worry about our own private photos. Maybe…they won't even check the card. Maybe they’ll just format it right away.”

  “I feel like most people are going to be curious,” I said doubtfully. “They’ll want to see what kind of person they stole from.”

  We both sighed. “Then it’s only a matter of time before those photos go all over the Internet,” he said. “They’ll probably get sold to TMZ for a fortune.”

  “At least they look really good,” I offered. “Hey, maybe I’ll get job offers from a gay men's magazine because of it.” We laughed, and then sighed again.

  “I’m terrified to look at my phone,” Will said. “I guess once it starts blowing up with messages we’ll know the photos are out.”

  At that moment, my phone chimed and buzzed on the table and made us both nearly fall out of our chairs. I picked it up and looked at the screen – it was a text from Frankie.

  Spoke to Linda. Was quite defensive about it, but I think she can still be reached. I’ll try again.

  I didn’t know to take that as good news or bad news. I supposed it was good, since my expectations were pretty low to begin with. With what had just happened, it would be better for my mental health to just think of it as good news. Will waited for me to fill him in. Will didn’t know that I had enlisted Frankie’s help to try and get through his mother, and I felt a little apprehensive about telling him, but given how things had changed it would all be out there anyway.

  “That was Frankie,” I said.

  “Frankie? What did she have to say?”

  I drew a deep breath. “A few weeks ago, I went to Frankie to ask if she could talk to your mom in my place about your contact,” I said.

  “Wow,” he said. He looked surprised, but not angry or upset. “How did she take that?”

  “Not too positively, I guess. But it sounds like Frankie thinks she can still reach her. But I guess it doesn't matter so much anymore, does it?”

  “I guess not. It would’ve been nice to have my mom’s support on my decision, but it's probably too much to ask of her.” He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Thank you for trying.”

  I nodded. “I guess we should tell Frankie what’s going on sooner than later.”

  Will rubbed his eyes again. “I’ll call her right now and have her come over.”

  “Right now? It’s—” I looked at my cell phone. “It’s two.”

  “Better now than waking up in the morning and seeing it all over the Internet.” He took out his cell phon
e and tapped at the screen, and then brought it to his ear. “Hey, Frankie. I don’t know how else to put this, but we have a bit of an emergency situation…”

  She arrived thirty minutes later in her pajamas and wearing a pair of glasses I’d never seen on her before. I was expecting her to be upset and furious for having been dragged into this whole thing, but she only looked tired and concerned, and gave the both us long hugs when she walked in the door. “Are you two okay?” she asked. “I’m sorry to hear about the apartment, Luke.”