Page 21 of Hamartia
“I’ll do it right now,” Jack is saying while tapping something into his phone.
Jae is still watching me, intense like, a little serious like. And then he’s saying his goodbyes too.
“I will see you all later.” He does his little bow thing again.
“No bailing on us!” Haven orders.
Jae bows again. “I will be there. Later.” He flashes another look in my direction and then he’s strutting back towards his table.
My phone buzzes in my pocket with Jack’s notification. My head is a bubbling pot of thoughts. The loudest of which being how the fuck I’m gonna get someone to come to this party with me. There’s only one person I could convince to come along to a party where he doesn’t know a single person. One person who has no one to go home to and who hates his own company so much that he’d accept an invite to a lame party, as he’d probably call it.
Beside me, Crawford is twittering like a bird. High from the win and the drugs, he doesn’t notice I’m not really paying attention.
In the end, it had been harder to convince Crawford to come with me to Haven’s party than it had been to ditch Camille. She’s flying out to Sydney tomorrow afternoon and didn’t want to stop me from celebrating, so she’d kissed me goodbye and told me to have fun and took the car home with Cleo and Mason. Zeke had a date and had pissed off right after the show.
As Crawford launches into all the possible producers we could now pull for the next record, I try to figure out what the hell I’m doing here. Do I even know? Do I have a plan? Does that plan involve me cheating on Camille with a guy? Is that what the end game is here? Is it to talk to him about this? Whatever this is?
I think about him finding out that I’ve spent the last two years fantasizing about him. About us. And I think it’s almost as bad as Camille finding out.
Almost.
The rest is a kind of breathless excitement, a sparking hot light feeling in my head and in my chest at the idea that he might actually…reciprocate this. I don’t know his sexuality. I’ve guessed at it. Hoped at it. And then thrown it away because clearly it doesn’t matter—I’m the prime example of that.
“You okay, man? You look like you’re gonna throw up,” Crawford says before asking the driver to pull over. So, he had noticed.
“Nah, I’m good. It’s cool. Just dropping…a little. Need another drink.”
There’s nowhere to stop anyway since we’re stuck in a jam on what looks like Mulholland. I press the window down and suck in a lungful of congested gas-fumed LA air.
There’s a tap on my arm a few seconds later and Crawf has a small amount of white held out to me on the top of his thumb. I only stare at it a few seconds before wetting my finger and swiping it up and into my mouth. He grins at me in the dim light of the car and the dread inside me evaporates like rain on a hot sidewalk.
Haven William’s place is in West Hollywood. A modern, two-level with a gated entrance and big Spanish-looking front door. It’s open when we pull up, the sound of EDM floating out from inside. There are a few cars parked in the driveway, one of which is a Bugatti. I’m not a car guy, but I know this one because Zeke has it as his screensaver.
We’re in the door about two minutes before Crawford sees someone he knows or who he’s fucked, I’m not even entirely sure who he’s pointing at because my attention is scanning the room for Jaehyun.
As he wanders off, I move towards where I think the kitchen is to find something to drink. I don’t think he’s here yet, because he said it would be later, but I check out every corner and sofa in the most surreptitious way I can. It reminds me of a frat party, except with more money on show. More drugs too.
When I spot Haven herself, she’s far away from where any of the illegal shit seems to be happening so maybe she’s not partaking. She squeals when she sees me and pushes past the group she was with to come over. I met her about two hours ago, but she still flings her arms around me and hugs me like an old friend.
“You came!! Well, this party just got 80% cooler,” she says giving me a wide smile.
“Haha, I don’t know about that. Thanks for the invite. Nice place.” I nod, looking around.
It has Spanish villa vibes inside, white walls and terracotta floors with lots of exposed wood.
“You think? I sort of hate it. But we’re moving soon so…” She doesn’t elaborate further. “Here, let me get you a drink. What’s your thing?”
I let her pull me into the huge chef’s kitchen where she pours me a tequila and lime soda and then tells me how happy she is I won record of the year. How much her and Jack love the album, how he’s probably my biggest fan, all shit I’m certain he wouldn’t want her to be telling me.
She talks at length about a show she did the week before in Colorado, after I tell her where I grew up, and I do my best at listening. She looks disappointed I didn’t bring Camille but nods understandingly when I tell her why. Because I’m desperate to find out if Jae is in fact going to come, I steer the conversation back to her performance tonight.
She closes her eyes dreamily. “Honestly, wasn’t it divine? I watched it back on the ride home and it’s the best we ever did it. Jaehyun is an angel, like an absolute ethereal being not of this earth. I think he’s the most beautiful human alive, I really do.”
Same, Haven, same.
“And that’s before he starts to dance. I had to beg his company for months to let me speak to him about this after I saw his video, and it was dead silence. They’re so protective of them, and like, I get it. But in the end, I just reached out to him on his Insta. He replied within an hour. Said yes. I’m gonna stream the performance again later.” She points behind me at a massive TV.
I’m not sure how to make it sound casual so I just say it. “Is he coming here tonight? You invited him, right?” I sip my drink as I affect an unbothered look.