Exquisitely Hidden: A Sin City Tale

by M. Jay Granberry

  “I . . .”

  Staring into the darkness I try to articulate this feeling knotted at the top of my stomach. The budding hope that maybe she knows something I don’t. Maybe this call is a sign I’ve been waiting for. The misery of wondering why the message is coming from Sin and not Adam. The idea I’m the unsuspecting victim of a matchmaker doing her best to throw me in the orbit of a man who has the ability to pull me off course and hurl me into black matter.

  “I can’t promise you that, Sin,” I say noncommittally.

  “Just try. That’s all I’m asking. Just have a little faith it’ll all work out.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. Sorry to have called so late.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Bye, Seth.”

  She hangs up before I say good-bye, and I’m left wide awake, staring in the dark. A burgeoning anticipation taking shape in my thoughts.

  What are you up to, baby?

  Adam

  Sin had been right. Dan and Miles didn’t even blink when I told them I’m gay. They might have even been a little hurt that I hadn’t trusted them with it earlier. Dan the perpetual smart-ass asked why I hadn’t tried to get at him, and Miles said that explained why I never took full advantage of the pussy thrown my way.

  Assholes. Both of them. There I was shaking, literally in my boots, at the prospect of their rejection and they boiled those fears down to pussy and ass. I shake my head just thinking about it.

  I nervously run my hands through the short strands barely touching my ears. I miss my hair. I cut it right before Sin’s wedding. It was like a security blanket. I can’t count how many times I reach up in a day to play in the curls that no longer brush my shoulders.

  After talking to Dan and Miles, catching them up to speed on me and Seth, the four of us sat down and came up with what Dan is ridiculously referring to as the Say Anything Plan. Insisting that agreeing to do this interview is the equivalent of raising the boom box over my head and blasting “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel at my boyfriend’s bedroom window.

  This better work. I swear to God. If I agreed to do this shit and Seth still won’t hear me out, I don’t even know what I’ll do.

  The doorbell rings loud, bright and early. And I open the door to find Jarrod Ocampo, a reporter for Etcetera Entertainment, dressed in a white three-piece suit with cotton candy pink pinstripes that accentuates the red undertones of his deeply tan skin.

  Sometimes we’ve been friends, other times quasi-enemies, and many, many moons ago we were lovers. Not boyfriends, but two lonely people, a world away from home, who found comfort in each other. That’s why I chose to do this interview with him. Not only is he respected as an ethical reporter, but he knows me and how hard I’ve struggled to get to a point where I voluntarily expose this part of myself.

  “Are you for real with this eight o’clock in the morning shit?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest. “I thought we agreed on ten.”

  “We did not.” He smirks. “Your people said eight and here I am. Ready to go. That’s how this works. I’m here to observe a day in the life of the Adam Beckham.”

  “Why does this feel like I’m an animal in a fucking zoo?” I say, scratching my bottom lip.

  “Addy, you just said another bad word.” Tory peeks around my leg to look at Jarrod.

  He drops to a knee in front of her, extending a hand. “You must be Tori. I’m Jarrod. Very nice to meet you.”

  She places her small hand in his.

  “I’m working on it, Tori,” I mumble, irritated that I still can’t seem to curb my penchant for cuss words.

  “I was just about to make Tori some breakfast. You want something?” I tilt my head, silently inviting him inside. He comes to his feet, still holding Tori’s hand, and follows as she drags him to the kitchen. I close the door and lean against it for a second before pushing off and walking after them.

  “I’m okay. Just go about your business as if I’m not here. The cameras won’t be here until later. I know how concerned you were about exposing Tori that way. So, if it’s still cool, I’ll get a couple of still shots of the two of you that we’ll use in the background when the interview veers toward your parental role.”

  I just nod. Ven told me all of this. I was just giving him shit at the door, but the reality of having a reporter in my house. Seriously don’t like it.

  I can do this.

  “Alright, kid, what are we eating this morning?”

  “Froot Loops,” Tori says, climbing one of the heavy barstools to sit at the breakfast counter.

  I take her favorite bowl out of the cabinet and fill it with the colorful sugary cereal and milk. Jarrod settles on the other side of the room taking notes. He’s so quiet I barely register he’s still here, sharp eyes taking in everything.

  “Addy, Grandma says we’re going to the child’s museum today and guess what?” she asks excitedly, squirming in her seat.

  “What?”

  “She said I get to touch all the stuff. Not like when you took me to that music museum and wouldn’t let me touch nothing.”

  “I let you touch stuff.”

  “Nah-uh. You said, ‘This stuff is ’pensive, Tori, don’t touch,’” she says, doing an okay job of trying to imitate my voice. I can’t lie. She’s right. We’d been in the LA Music Conservatory and I wouldn’t let her touch anything.

  “You better hurry. Regina will be here in a little bit.”

  The morning progresses smoothly, no hiccups. Tori finishes her sugary breakfast, takes a bath, gets dressed in a colorful tutu with a checkerboard shirt and striped socks. It’s all good until I pull out the comb and brush, and she takes off screaming down the hallway.

  “Come on, Tori. Ms. Regina just texted she’ll be pulling up in a minute,” I plead, cornering her behind the kitchen table.

  “Nooooooo,” she screeches, trying to move around me, but I catch her around the waist. “Addy, no. I don’t want my hair combed. You always hurt my head.”

  “Well, you can’t go out of the house like this.”

  “Pleeeeease. I just want to be a unicorn.” She means she wants to wear her unicorn headband.

  “Then you explain to Ms. Regina why your hair is all over your head,” I say, setting her little feet on the ground.

  “Kay.” She smiles up at me and, yep, I just got played by a four-year-old.

  She runs to her room and comes back with a headband stuck in a head full of tangled hair. Of course, that’s when Jarrod asks to take the pictures. We pose for a few shots outside by the pool but when the doorbell rings, she dashes inside. By the time I make it to the foyer, Tori has the door wide open.

  “Tori, what did I tell you about opening the door without a grown-up?”

  “It was just Grandma.”

  “But what if it wasn’t?”

  “I saw. So it was.” We really have to work on stranger danger.

  “You ready for the museum?” Regina asks and Tori nods almost violently.

  “Me too. I love what you did with your hair, sweetie.” Regina looks at me with wide eyes that say what the hell? I shrug because I’ve learned when it comes to having a child you have to pick your battles.

  “Tell Adam bye so we can be on our way.”

  Tori’s arms wrap around my legs. “Love you, Addy. We’re on our way.”

  “Love you too, kid. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

  “Pinkie sweat?” She extends her little finger.

  “Pinkie swear,” I correct, watching two of my favorite ladies walk down the driveway, get into the older-model sedan, and drive out of sight.

  I close the door and startle a little when I almost run into Jarrod. Sneaky bastard.

  “The rest of the crew should be here any minute. It’s show time. You better be ready,” he quips.

  I jump in the shower, throw on a T-shirt and jeans, and resituate myself on the leather sofa that sits in the middle of my living room as the cameramen adjust the obnoxious
ly bright lights across from me.

  “Adam?” Jarrod sits on the arm of the sofa. His voice hushed and apprehensive. “You don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready or if you’re having second thoughts, we can—”

  “Nah, it has to be now. I’m . . . I’m ready.” I blow out a hard breath. It’s time. Long past time. If I don’t do something, I’ll lose maybe the only chance I have at being happy. I’m hoping Seth likes grand gestures. Maybe he’ll finally get it. I choose him. Anytime. Every time. I choose him.

  I square my shoulders as J-rod settles in the seat across from me.

  “Let’s do this,” I say, twisting my neck until multiple vertebrae pop.

  Jarrod silently nods as one more worried gaze sweeps over my face before his features smooth into a professional mask. The production assistant closes the black-and-white clapboard with a loud snap. “We’re rolling in five, four, three . . .” He holds up two fingers, and then one finger.

  “Today, I’m sitting across from the Grammy-winning lead guitarist from the band Sin City. Adam Beckham. Thank you for joining us tonight.”

  “Yeah, sure. Thanks for having me.”

  Jarrod starts with the simple stuff. Softball questions that have easy answers, and I breathe easy.

  “It’s been a while since you’ve sat down for a formal interview. You’re notorious for being the elusive member of Sin City. We’re all really excited that you agreed to sit down for this interview. I got here a while ago and had the pleasure of meeting your little sister. How has that been transitioning into the role as a primary caregiver for such a young child?”

  “I’m her family, not a caregiver,” I snap.

  “Didn’t mean to offend,” he volleys back. “How has that been?”

  “It’s been different, for sure. Being on tour I kind of fell into rhythm. But with Tori I gotta be quick on my feet. Every day is different.”

  “How so?”

  “Some days she hates peanut butter and is afraid of swings and the next day she’s utterly fearless and peanut butter is all of a sudden her favorite food.”

  “You seemed really in tune with her today,” he states.

  “Did I? Good deal.” I shrug.

  Can you tell us what’s next on the horizon for Sin City? Any new material?”

  “Nah, not really. We’re taking a little bit of a break. Give Sin a minute to get acclimated to married life.” I don’t mention the baby. Sin and Jake want to keep that information between family and close friends until the last minute.

  “That’s right.” He snaps fingers as if he’d forgotten. “She and Jacob Johnson, CFO of the Hotel, recently tied the knot in a private ceremony on the Mexican Riviera. Is there anything you can tell us about that?”

  “Not at all. You should reach out to Sin. She might give you something.” A dry laugh leaves my mouth because we both know Sin ain’t giving him shit.

  “I’ll do that,” he says, his lips twisting into a rueful smile.

  “In the past, you and Sin have been extremely close. Some even speculated at a relationship. Are the two of you okay now that she’s married?”

  “Ah . . . yeah. We’ve never been better. Sin was. . .is my best friend, but that’s all we ever were. Just friends.” I stammer off the last word.

  “I could show you a couple of pictures that would tell a different story.”

  “Maybe, but cameras see what they want to see, not the truth. I know my story. Sin and I have never dated because . . .” A bead of sweat trickles down my temple but I keep my eyes trained on Jarrod. “Because I’m gay.” I say the last sentence in a rush and the extra people in the room—cameramen, grips, makeup artist—they all kind of freeze and my heart starts rushing. What in the fuck did I just do?

  At that moment the front door of my house opens, and my gaze is immediately drawn to the figure who walks through it. Seth stands just beyond the camera. His golden-brown skin is as radiant as the sun, bestowing him with a natural luminance that makes him shine brighter than anyone else. He’s wearing my black Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt; it’s stretched across his muscled chest, and his loose jean shorts hang low on his hips. And those fucking Vans sneakers I’ve tried to convince him to exchange for Chucks are on his feet.

  He nods at Venetria McCullough, Sin City’s PR rep, and Jeanine Williams as he moves farther into the room, finally coming to rest against the wall directly across from me. He leans against the wall, knee bent with his foot propped against the smooth surface. His big body relaxed, but those pretty brown eyes intent on my face.

  He doesn’t say the words “Hey, Baby” but I can practically hear his deep voice rasping them in my ear.

  There is only one explanation for him being here. Sin. I don’t know how she got him to show up, but I owe her big-time for this one.

  “Adam?” Jarrod whispers. “You okay?”

  His words bring my attention and focus back to the reporter across from me. My stomach is tight with knots and the knowledge that Seth is here. He won’t see this interview later, or sometime in the nondescript future. He’s witnessing it, now. The nerves multiply tenfold making me nauseous and uncertain.

  “Ah . . . sorry about that . . .” I say, blinking.

  “It’s fine, we’re not live. You good?” he asks, looking over his shoulder to see what, or rather who, drew my attention. He turns back to me with an eyebrow raised in appreciation.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I say, licking my suddenly dry lips. “Where were we?”

  “You’re gay?” he asks. “Why not come out earlier? Right now, in the current climate, being a member of the LGBTQ community doesn’t carry the negative connotation of say twenty years ago.”

  “I guess. I can’t much speak on that but for me it just wasn’t my time,” I say because I won’t go into how the abuse I suffered severely fucked up my identity and self-acceptance.

  “And what makes now your time?”

  “I met someone and he . . .” My eyes move to Seth over Jarrod’s shoulder, silently begging him to hear me and accept my apology, before my eyes come back to the reporter. “He doesn’t like living in the shadows.”

  “I understand. So, this is you bring your relationship to the light. Must be a really special guy.”

  My gaze drifts back cover to Seth and our eyes catch and hold a beat before I look back at Jarrod.

  “He’s. . .” I start swallowing past a lump of emotion. “He’s everything.” I finally get out.

  Jarrod gives me slight nod to signal I should keep talking but I don’t. I adjust in my seat turning my head looking for an out. I just laid my heart fucking bare for America and for Seth who I have no idea if he still wants a relationship with me.

  “Who is this mystery man that has obviously put a lock on one of the rock industry’s most eligible bachelors?” Jarrod asks leaning forward. My head snaps back toward his and he widens his eyes like you’ve come this far don’t bail on me now.

  “He. . .He’s not a public person. I can’t put him out there like that.”

  “Come on Adam.” Jarrod says with a tilt of his head. “Being with you by default makes him public. Give us something.”

  “No. I’m trying to get him to stay not scare him off.” I quip finding my first smile since starting this interview.

  “I can respect that. On that note what’s next for Adam Beckham?” he asks, shifting the conversation settling back in his seat, crossing one leg over his knee.

  “I don’t know. Um . . . for the first time since I was eighteen, I’m not on tour or playing almost every night of the week. So, I’m trying to figure it out as I go. As far as Sin City goes, even though we’re not touring or recording right now, we’ve been working on some pretty gnarly stuff. I can’t say too much about it but definitely keep a lookout. As for me, I’ll be chillin at my pool, soaking up some of this desert heat. I’ll be hanging with my little sister, and if he’s so inclined, maybe I’ll take my boyfriend on vacation, to someplace exotic where they serve pineapple
drinks and have hammocks strung between palm trees.”

  My pulse is a metronome at my temples. A loud, steady thump as I wait for Jarrod to volley back. I didn’t come out and wave the rainbow flag and proclaim myself a proud member of the rainbow tribe, but I claimed Seth as mine. That’s all I wanted. For me that’s enough.

  “You know I love a tease. Care to drop the name of the mystery man who gets vacations with hammocks and pineapple drinks?” Jarrod asks, leaning forward again. Not the question I expected.

  My eyes roll back to where Seth is lounging against the wall. One side of his mouth pulled up in a sexy smirk.

  “Nah, not at all,” I say.

  “Fair enough,” he says, turning his head to look directly at the camera. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, it appears Sin City is ushering in a new era as a band. One not dominated by continuous tours but instead the maturity of balance. Balancing life changes with career expectations. That’s all for me. Tune in tomorrow for an exclusive with singer/songwriter Indigo on her up-and-coming album. Until then, Jarrod Ocampo signing off.”

  The cameras cut and I’m aware of Jarrod talking and cameras moving and people exiting but I stay seated, quiet. My eyes fixated on one person. The only one in the entire room who really matters.

  Seth

  The sight of Adam sitting alone on a gilded sofa surrounded by dark throw pillows is stunning. Just as striking as he’d been when I saw him walking off that plane in the middle of the tarmac at a Chinese airport when we first met. Unlike that first meeting, I don’t run a list of reasons why we can’t work. Instead, I think about all the reasons we do.

  I lean against the wall, watching him fidget, and I blatantly stare at his bluer-than-blue eyes; full, pink lips; and the long, elegant fingers he has laced in his lap. His uncertain glances play touch and go with my mine as we both wait for the cameramen to pack up their equipment and Jeanine and Venetria to both smother him with love and pride for finally coming out.