too, and still, I asked him for help on an amateur film project about skateboarding.
He sounded like a robot.
And he almost broke his ass on cement after trying to ollie.
I love him a lot.
“I was just grabbing a 1934 Merlot.” Creases line his forehead. Only a few grays in his brown hair—he was young when I was born. “So…? You’re okay with the press? You’re safe there?”
I nod. “Yeah. Is Mama around too?” I’d rather talk to them both at the same time.
“She went to bed, but I’ll let her know what’s going on. She’s very proud, you know. She wants to meet him.” He inspects the label of the Merlot.
“What about you?”
He sets the bottle down. He offers a lot of supportive words of me being with a man, as much as I expected. He says he loves me, and then the questions arrive.
When did you know you liked guys? Are you bisexual? What’s Oscar like? Is he good to you?
I answer honestly to each one.
And then he asks, “What’s his goals? He doesn’t want to be a bodyguard forever, right?”
“I think so.”
He makes a hmm noise.
“It’s a good profession.”
“No it’s not. I have a friend in private security, and it pays nothing. It’s fucking dangerous. Plus, his back will be shot by fifty.”
“My back will be shot before then.”
“You need to stop doing camerawork. Take care of your body now before you become old like me.” He pauses for a second. The air strains like he’s thinking back to the serious topics.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I’ll be honest, it’s taking me a longer time—longer than your mama—to get used to the idea of you with a guy. I keep thinking that if you marry a man, I’m going to have a son-in-law.” He lets out a breath. “Just never pictured that.”
My muscles tighten, even though I knew this might be coming. That future picture. The one so vividly painted. “I get it,” I say, but my heartbeat pounds loud in my ears. “But just think it’s just as good of a picture because it’s what I want. And I’d be happy in it.”
His smile is warm. “I know that. Whatever you choose, you know I’ll be happy for you, too.”
I nod, and I do believe that.
He doesn’t press about Oscar as we talk more. He hikes out of the wine cellar and ends up on the private dock, his boat rocking with glittering water in Naples Canal.
Seeing my childhood house makes me miss Long Beach.
After I finish the calls, Oscar comes back about ten minutes later. I catch him up and leave out the part where my dad hates his career choice.
We eat New York cheesesteaks which Oscar said aren’t like Philly’s. And then we end up in his bed together. We both crash, falling into hard sleep with our legs and arms tangled.
I’m not sure I would’ve been able to fall asleep that well without him. The weight of his limbs, the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart—it’s music quelling my fears.
I wake before him.
And I skulk down the loft’s stairs to the kitchen. I left my phone plugged in on the bar counter, and my head whirls at all the missed texts.
I read them while I make breakfast. Warming a frying pan, I untwist a bag of pandesal and cut a soft roll in half. I brought the bread in my backpack for Oscar to try. Did not think I’d be toasting pandesal while my life is imploding.
Jesus, shit, these emails.
The other exec producers on We Are Calloway are asking me about my relationship with a bodyguard, and whether that will affect the integrity of the docuseries.
It’s fine.
It’s fine.
I can charm my way through this one. I click into texts. Ali said her and Ambrose have my back if the other execs ask questions.
Ambrose texted, welcome to the fam.
My lips rise, and while I place the bread on the pan, I click on a group chat thread with Jane, Maximoff, and Sulli.
We love you & support you 100%!! If we can do anything to curb the bad press, let us know. – Jane
Here for u. Whatever u need. Call us and we’ll be there – Moffy
So sorry this is fucking happening to you. Swim & donuts one day you’re free? – Sulli
I reread those ones.
For years, I’ve been there for Moffy and Jane when they needed a friend or a helping hand in a crisis, more recently Sulli too. They understand the heat of