Page 36

Tommy

“What?”

I asked, pretending to be shocked. Elliott, a gossip from my former workplace, had called me out of the blue. I knew it was because he had dirt and wanted me to confirm it.

“I’m not kidding, and they said it was your picture they took at the club.”

I laughed. “Well, dude, you know I’m gay, and so is my brother. I go to the club you're talking about all the time. Are you sure it was my picture they took?”

I had seen the picture of Amos in the bar. It was a bad shot, and the light behind him hid most of his face so no one could tell who it was. Yes, I knew it was him. And I’m sure more than a few of the guys that night had confirmed it, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to.

“You’re not holding out on me now, are you, Tommy?” he asked.

“Elliott, are you asking me as a journalist if I was at a gay bar with Amos Clark? Because, you know, if there was a story to write, I’d write it myself.”

I could all but feel the steam coming out of Elliott’s ears. He was a horrible journalist, mostly because he thought he was God’s gift to journalism and was more clever than anyone. The truth was he was horribly obvious all the damn time.

What helped him and hurt me was that he had absolutely no scruples. He’d throw his own mother under the bus to get a scoop on a story.

I didn’t owe anything to him, my former boss, or anyone else. They’d cut me loose, and a person’s sexuality was 100 percent their own business. It wasn’t for Elliott, of all people, to report who Amos or anyone else found attractive.

Despite our talk, I still thought, for Amos, that wasn’t guys, or at least not this guy. Anyway, I wished him the best of luck, and as I usually did when talking to Elliott, I added, “Hey, did you hear? Minx is supposedly dating some new model. I’m going to try to get the scoop on that and maybe do a little contract work.”

It didn’t matter who it was or how ludicrous my allegation, Elliott couldn’t resist the desire to chase down a lead and get one over on me. That tactic never failed to get him off the track of what I was really following. In this case, off Amos’s back for a minute at least. And, of course, mine as well, and it worked like a charm. He quickly found an excuse to say goodbye.

I’d been working on my manuscript again and had gotten to the college article regarding Amos doing drag. Of course, I wouldn’t dare write that down. Even though that article had been leaked, I didn’t feel comfortable writing about it from a personal perspective.

I also knew how easy it was for written stuff to get out, even if you didn’t want it to. So far, my manuscript was boring. Mostly me talking about my childhood, going to school, meeting Amos, and becoming his roommate. Not stuff TMZ would be interested in.

I’d written about seeing Amos grow as a player and how I grew as a reporter watching his games. Of course, I included Owen, mostly because he was there, but also because it diverted attention from the reality that I’d been in love with Amos. That was something TMZ would run with. Just not something I wanted out in the world.

Hell, I barely wanted to acknowledge it myself.

When my phone pinged, I groaned. God, if that was stupid Elliott again…

I picked my phone up and saw a message from Owen.

Him: Hey, wanna come over for dinner?

Owen had already told me Amos was staying in their apartment, and I didn’t want to see him again, so I quickly declined, using the writing as my excuse.

Him: Come on, Amos is gone. He’s helping Jason’s friend with his football team. I know you’ve been avoiding me because he was here.

I thought about denying it, but shit, Owen was my oldest friend. He knew what was what.

Me: Okay, but not until six. I still have to do some work and need to get a shower.

I needed to be around friends, and Owen and Jason were great about just letting me hang without asking a hundred questions about what the hell I was going to do with the rest of my life.

I had plenty of money saved. I wouldn’t go hungry, and the house was mine to use as long as I wanted, although it did mean no money being made on the rental. Grandma didn’t want the money either, but it would help preserve my nest egg. I really should find somewhere else to stay. This little rental brought in a good chunk of change, more than I’d spend on a cheap hotel. I just hated the thought of staying in one when I had the comfort of my childhood home.

I had slept for shit since I’d spent that drunken night in Amos’s arms almost a week ago. So, I put my manuscript away and went to take a nap. Knowing Jason and Owen, they’d want to watch a movie or play a few games. If I didn’t want to crash, I should probably get some rest.

I thought about my story as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Should I write my whole story? Should I expose my feelings as well as Amos’s? The journalist in me would say yes, and even if it cast me in a bad light, the truth should be spoken or, in this case, written. But the other side of me, the vulnerable side, wasn’t keen on the idea.

I fell asleep thinking about the dilemma around being honest with the world. I’d need Amos’s permission to tell the whole story. I’d need to accept that I would be the center of a lot of unwanted and likely negative attention.

By the time I woke up and climbed into the shower, I was ready to tell the truth. I would take precautions to ensure nothing I wrote could be stolen or hacked. But, yeah, more than anything else, I needed to come clean. To tell my story because I wanted to be honest with myself about what’d happened between Amos and me.

Well, more about what happened between me and Amos. Ultimately, I knew it was me who’d pushed Amos to that level of involvement. Something I was ashamed of, and if writing it exorcised that demon, maybe… just maybe, it’d free me once and for all.