Gah. He was making his own head spin.
He and Jesse didn’t have a public friendship. He had always assumed that was because Jesse was famous, because Jesse wanted to keep his personal life out of the spotlight as much as possible. In fact, he had always admired the way Jesse did exactly that, using the media selectively and for his own ends when he needed to but keeping a low profile the rest of the time. Jesse always maintained that famous people who complained they were constantly stalked by the paparazzi were, to a large extent, bringing it on themselves. “Don’t eat at the Ivy in LA if you don’t want the press all over you,” he’d say. “You figure out which places to avoid at which times, and that’s half the battle. It’s not that hard to control the narrative.”
It had never occurred to Hunter that maybe he was being kept away from Jesse’s public persona because he was gay.
No. He had to be wrong about that—he was getting unnecessarily paranoid. Jesse wasn’t like that.
“Well, okay.” Beth rolled her eyes. “If you insist on attending with Miss Jailbait, that’s actually good for me because . . .” She turned to Hunter. “You and I can hole up here and watch it?”
Her eyes were hopeful. Hunter felt a rush of affection for his friend’s sister. She’d been through so much, and she hadn’t let it cow her. He’d enjoyed getting to know her over the past week. She was charming, like her brother, and brave as hell. And like Hunter a couple years ago, she was new to the city. She didn’t have any friends.
“I’d love to. We can shout rude things at TV Jesse.” He looked at his watch. It was still early, but he suddenly felt the need to get home, to be back on his own turf. “For tonight, though, I’m gonna head out.”
“No movie?” Jesse asked, and Hunter couldn’t read his tone. Had no idea if that little inflection in his delivery was disappointment or relief.
“Early committee meeting in the morning,” he said, and it was the truth. “I’m on the annual hospital gala planning committee, God help me.”
“Hospital gala?” Beth asked. “What does that mean? A ball with everyone wearing fancy scrubs?”
Hunter smiled as he shook his head. “The charitable foundation attached to the hospital runs it. All the wealthy donors and society people come out. There’s usually some top-draw emcee, a silent auction, and—wait for it—a bachelor and bachelorette auction. Which I thought I was avoiding this year by being on the planning committee, but no.”
“You mean you stand up there and the audience bids on you?” Beth asked incredulously.
“That is exactly what I mean. Unfortunately.”
Beth cracked up. “Awww, you see that stuff on, like, Lifetime movies, but I had no idea it was a real thing!”
“It is. Alas. This will be my third year. The last two were so horrible I told them I’d do anything but that this year. So I got put on the planning committee. But then somehow I’m also on the auction block. They already printed the programs, and it’s too late to make a change.”
“So who has, uh, won you?” Jesse asked. “In past years.”
Hunter sent his mind down bad-memory lane. “The first year, it was this twenty-two-year-old trust fund woman. Her parents are big donors to the hospital. She insisted we go to Eigensinn Farm for our date.” He looked at Beth. “That’s this really chichi farm-to-table place two hours north of the city. So we had this endless drive there and back. She spent the whole time talking incessantly about how ‘passionate’ she was about children’s health but being all grossly flirty about it. She also pretty much live tweeted the date. We had to take a bunch of selfies. It was strange.”
“Did she know you were gay?” Jesse sounded annoyed.
“She did. It was right there in the program, and the emcee made this bizarre big deal about it during the auction.” That had actually been the worst part—worse than the date, which was saying something. It had been exceedingly uncomfortable, being showcased like that, almost like he was a mascot or something. Look! We have a gay doctor! “They kept calling me ‘the hospital’s own Anderson Cooper.’ Because, you know, gay, premature-gray hair. They thought it was hilarious.”
“And what about last year?” Jesse asked.
Hunter huffed a bitter laugh. “Still with the Anderson Cooper thing. The emcee was all wink-wink, nudge-nudge about my sexuality. And get this: Last year, the winning bidder was the first woman’s mother.”
“Ahhh!” Beth made a face. “That is so weird!”
“Right?” Hunter smiled despite the unpleasant memory. It was absurd enough that part of his brain could, objectively, recognize the humor in the situation. “And she spent the whole time talking about this charity she’s launching to donate dog and cat food to areas of the world stricken by famine, because if people are starving, mustn’t their pets be too? Then she tried to make this convoluted case I still don’t understand about how there was some kind of cosmic affinity between ‘the gays’ and the poor famine victims because we were all ‘so oppressed,’ and I was like, ‘Lady, I make a hundred and eighty grand a year, I’m white, I live in Canada—get a new stump speech.’”
“Fuck off. You’re kidding.” Jesse’s vehement outburst drew both Hunter’s and Beth’s attention.
“Yes. She asked me to be on the board of directors. I told her I wasn’t an animal person. She told me she’d bid on me again this year and work on me some more.”
“Like hell,” Jesse said.
Hunter wanted to ask Jesse what he was going to do about it, but that was mean. They both knew Jesse had no jurisdiction over the matter.
Jesse was going to the Junos with a teenager.
“Hang on a sec,” Jesse said as Hunter stood and grabbed his bag and discarded tie—he’d come right from work.
Hunter didn’t want to hang on a sec. He wanted to go home. But he waited, his hand on the door.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go.” Jesse jogged up the stairs.
Hunter glanced at Beth, who was still on the couch. He was embarrassed. She’d seen Jesse reject him, basically, possibly because of his sexuality. And now he was paused here like a trained puppy, waiting for his master’s okay to start moving.
He should just leave. Preserve some shred of dignity.
“We need to talk about snacks,” Beth said.
“Snacks?” he echoed dumbly.
“For tomorrow?”
“Ah! Right!” It was the perfect thing to say. It put him immediately at ease. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”
“I think fancy snacks are in order,” she said. “Fancy snacks and maybe one item that’s throwable. Like, we can throw Cheetos at the TV while we eat caviar?”
“That sounds perfect,” he said, and it did.
Jesse was listening at the top of the stairs. Hunter could sense him hovering there before he appeared. “This is the new album,” he said, jogging down once the snacks had been planned. He held out a memory stick. “If you leak any of it, I’ll murder you. And I would miss you if I had to murder you, so don’t do it.”
Hunter didn’t know what to say. He’d heard snippets of it at the cottage, as the guys worked, but the album wasn’t coming out for two more weeks. It was a strict secret. Last he’d heard, the only copy was kept under lock and key at the label.
He opened his mouth to object, but Jesse said, “I’d like you to have an early copy.” He continued to hold out the memory stick.
Was it a consolation prize? Probably. I can’t be seen with you in public, but here’s a treat to make you feel special.
“Please,” Jesse said, and his tone was imbued with such sincerity that Hunter extended his hand.
Once the transfer was made, Jesse smiled. “Go home. Get some sleep.”
Yeah, right. As if that was going to happen now. He would go home, but he would not sleep, at least not for a good long while. No, Hunter would spend the rest of the evening listening to the new Jesse and the Joyride album on repeat, and when he finally succumbed and fell asle
ep, it would be with his best friend’s voice in his ear.
The Junos were a drag.
These things always were, but they were an extra drag this year.
Partly because of the teenager. Beth had been right that coming with Penny was a mistake.
She wasn’t uninteresting or vapid or any of the things Beth had seemed to be implying. But she was young and guileless and had no sense of musical history. Jesse ended up feeling like he was babysitting rather than going on a date.
But it shouldn’t have mattered. This wasn’t a real date; it was a work date. This whole evening was work. Get in front of the cameras, debut the new single, get people talking, whether it was about his music or the pretty girl on his arm.
That was the game, and you had to play the game.
So what was the problem?
The problem was Penny Marks was not Dr. Hunter Wyatt.
It had never occurred to him to take Hunter to something like the Junos, but once Beth had suggested it, he couldn’t get it out of his mind.
What would Hunter wear to an event like this? Probably something classic like a tux or a black suit, impeccably tailored. Hunter managed to look at ease in ties, unlike Jesse, who always felt like they were strangling him. But whatever Hunter wore, it would come with a hint of quirk, like a crazy pocket square.
He had never seen Hunter in black. At work, he wore his white doctor’s coat over a shirt and tie. His silver hair would probably look amazing against a black tuxedo.
Jesse made his way over to Matty at the label’s after-party. “I’m going to jet.”
“You just got here.”
He’d shown his face. That was what mattered. “I have a killer headache.”
“What about Penny?”
“She’s fine.” Jesse nodded in her direction. She was in the center of a group of people, laughing and talking. “I’ll offer to drop her at home if she’s ready to leave.”
They both knew she wasn’t. She was new to this scene, and she was soaking it all in. Rightly so.
Matty frowned. Jesse usually worked hard to make sure Matty never frowned. “I really think it would be good if the two of you left together. I was going to say later, but an early departure, if it’s noticed, could be good too.”
Hunter knew what Matty was implying. He’d tip off some publication or other about the fact that Jesse Jamison and Penny Marks couldn’t keep their hands off each other at the AMI Junos after-party and had left together at an exceedingly early hour.
There was a moment where Jesse teetered at the edge, caught between doing what he wanted and doing what Matty wanted. But then he got angry at himself. Could he not leave one party early one time? He’d manufactured the headache, but suddenly, he did sort of ache. In a generalized way, like his body was too heavy to keep dragging around.
“I can’t deal with this now, Matty. Set something up with her for next week if you like, before we leave on tour.” He glanced around. Ash and Rob were huddled in a corner. “Or get one of the other guys to do your brand management. They’d probably be into it.”
“It’s your band, Jesse. You are the brand.”
He pressed his fingers against his temples. “Well, the brand is leaving.”
Now, while there was a chance Hunter was still at his house.
Matty’s face changed from annoyed to concerned, and Jesse had a momentary twinge of guilt for having manipulated the man who had done so much for him. “Jesus, Jesse, I thought you were bullshitting about the headache. You need a doctor?”
Yes. I need a doctor. Just not one I can have.
Finally dismissed with a promise to text Matty in the morning with an update on the state of his head, he grabbed an Uber, and in fifteen minutes he found himself standing outside his own front door, unaccountably nervous.
He stood out there for an embarrassingly long time. He wasn’t sure what his problem was. This was what he’d wanted, right? To get home. The lights were off in the living room, but there was that flickering that TVs made in the dark, signalling someone was still up.
It might be Beth on her own. The broadcast had finished ninety minutes ago. Hunter could well have left by now.
A twig snapped somewhere, startling him. He looked around. The last thing he needed was for a fan to have followed him home. Nothing seemed out of place, though, and he was alone. It must have been a racoon—the neighborhood was full of them, and he swore they’d evolved opposable thumbs.
He unlocked the door and once it was pushed open a crack, he heard a rumble of laughter.
Masculine laughter.
The fact that Hunter was still there made him sag in what felt like relief. They hadn’t spoken since last night. He wondered what Hunter thought about the new album.
No, he didn’t wonder. Wonder implied idle curiosity.
Not knowing what Hunter thought about the new album was killing him.
Especially “When You’re Mine.” Hunter had somehow magically intuited that “Repeat” was about Beth, and part of Jesse feared he would also divine the truth about “When You’re Mine.” But that was impossible. The song was written in second person and contained no incriminating pronouns. Anyway, there was no big “truth” to discover. It was just a song. A thought experiment. He wrote songs like that all the time, songs the press insisted were autobiographical when they weren’t.
“Hey,” he called as he stepped into the entryway and disarmed the alarm. “Party still going?” He stuck his head around to peer into the living room as he took off his shoes.
His sister flipped on a light, and Hunter shot Jesse a smile. They were both happy to see him. Relief flooded his chest.
“Nice job, bro,” Beth said. “I didn’t even throw anything at the TV. That jacket looked amazing on camera, by the way. And the performance was great.”
“The whole album is great,” Hunter said, his golden-brown eyes sparking with warmth.
The two of them were cozied up on the sofa, under a giant afghan. Jesse wanted to get in there with them. But that was ridiculous.
Instead, he scanned the remains of their feast. “Are those . . . lobster tails?”
“Yep!” said Beth. “I told Hunter I wanted fancy snacks, and boy did he ever take me seriously. We had lobster, caviar, and the most amazing cheese and charcuterie plate. He even got fancy-ass hot dogs for Gavin.”
“Want some bubbly?” Hunter held up a bottle of Veuve, and Jesse’s heart squeezed to see Hunter taking care of his sister like this, treating her so well after she’d had such a hard run. It was so like him. He wasn’t sure he deserved to have Hunter in his life, but Beth did. He had to think of some way to smooth over—
His thoughts were interrupted by a pounding on the door—a pounding loud enough it made him jump.
“Jesse!”
It had been a while, but he knew that voice.
Beth’s eyes widened in fear. “Russell,” she whispered.
Jesse hated that look in his sister’s eyes. It made him want to fucking punch her asshole of a husband.
“Beth!” came the voice, and the pounding grew more insistent.
“How does he know where you live?” Beth whispered, standing with her elbows bent like she was ready to fight—or to protect herself from attack.
It was a good question. Beth’s soon-to-be-ex-husband had never been to this house—had never been to Toronto in the time he’d been with Beth, as far as Jesse knew. And Jesse was unlisted.
“He must have followed you from the awards.” Hunter’s voice was low.
“Go upstairs,” Jesse whispered urgently. “I’ll take care of this.”
“Jesse, open up, or I’ll break this goddamned door down!”
“Go,” he said, talking to Beth but looking at Hunter and hitching his head toward the stairs. “Get Gavin and hide in the closet in my bedroom.”
Hunter jumped into action, taking Beth’s hand and leading her up the stairs, meeting Jesse’s gaze with a look of concern.
Jesse de
bated adding that they should call the cops. Beth had a restraining order against Russell now, but in theory, Russell didn’t know Beth was here, and Jesse thought keeping it that way was probably their smartest, and safest, move.
“Hang on!” Jesse called, and, when his people were out of sight, he waited another few seconds, ignoring the increasingly aggressive pounding before going to the door and opening it.
“What the hell?” he said, feigning confusion even though it seemed impossible that his unease wasn’t visible on his face.
“Where’s Beth?” Russell tried to step inside, but Jesse spread his legs and blocked the doorway.
“How the hell should I know?”
“Because she’s here.” He got past Jesse then, goddamn it, and pushed into the living room. “I know she’s here.” He reeked of alcohol.
This was bad. Fuck. Jesse should have blocked him more aggressively. He scanned the room, praying there was nothing incriminating laying around, like one of Gavin’s toys. His heart was beating out of his chest, but he had to play this right. Strike the right balance between annoyed but mystified. “Look, you asshole, Beth’s not here.”
“Then where is she?” he yelled, and Jesse added to his list of fears that Gavin would hear his dad’s angry voice and start crying, thereby giving them away.
He forced himself to breathe and affect a casually sneering tone. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Russell lurched farther into the room. He was clearly drunk and a bit unsteady on his feet. Jesse pondered whether he could take him. The booze would make him slower, but probably also angrier.
“There’s someone else here,” Russell declared. “The house wasn’t empty when you came home.”
“Listen to yourself, man,” said Jesse, trying another tactic. “Look at yourself. She’s divorcing you. The only question left is how difficult you’re going to make it. How much you’re going to get to see your kid. How much self-respect you’re going to hang on to.”
“She is not divorcing me!” Russell roared, and Jesse regretted his decision not to tell Hunter to call the police. He could only pray they were hearing this from upstairs and coming to that conclusion on their own.
Infamous Page 10
