heart breaks for Victor. He loved Ted London. My lip quivers; tears are coming. I shut my eyes and try to will them away. Not while my friends are watching.
“Will there be a funeral?” I ask.
“I am afraid not. I will be sending the ashes to his old manager in California to be spread around the Hollywood sign.”
“That’s what he wanted?”
“Yes,” Victor says, steadying himself. “The request was explicitly stated in the will.”
I’m not sure what to say. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Victor takes a deep breath. “Me too. I devoted my life to helping that man. I don’t know what’s next for me.”
“You’ll figure it out. I know it,” I say.
“Thank you, sweet boy. Your job is complete. You did good.”
That’s the first time that Victor has ever complimented me.
“And Pony, thank you for reconnecting him with Lee. I know it gave Ted peace.”
Peace, I think, and tears run down my cheeks. There is no way to stop it.
“Speaking of, I need to call Lee now.” He pauses. “Goodbye, Pony, and best of luck to you.”
“Bye,” I say, but Victor has already hung up. I drop the phone like my fingers forgot how to work. Sadness covers me like a weighted blanket. I knew this would happen, but that doesn’t stop the emptiness.
I remember one day, I was on the chair beside his bed, shooting the shit. He said, “Pony, when we first met, you asked if I had any regrets. I lied to you, son.” He told me more about that night at the Academy Awards—what it felt like to get on the stage and receive the statue, how overwhelming the audience and cameras were. He remembered “like it was yesterday.” It was the highest point in his career but the lowest point in his life. He regretted not using that stage to come clean about his sexuality. All he needed to say were “two words” into that microphone.
I assume those two words were “I’m gay,” but Ted still—even on his literal deathbed—struggled to say those words out loud. He could have been free from his agent’s blackmailing. Free to love Lee. But he never said those two words.
I snap out of it and look up. All eyes on me, asking for an explanation. “The guy I worked for, the movie star. He died today,” I say, wiping away a tear.
Kenji gets to his feet and walks over. “Bro, I’m sorry. I lost my grandpa last year.” He puts a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s OK,” I say, standing up. Kenji wraps his giant arms around me in a Bro Hug. It’s a sweet moment. Kelly and Taylor walk into the room, confused.
“Who died?” Kelly asks, and we laugh at the glorious timing. Taylor is wearing a short black dress with her curly hair pulled back in some bun thing. I can’t believe she’s my date. Kelly looks awesome in her suit and tie.
Everyone looks at me, not sure what to do next. Honestly, I’m not sure what to do next either. What do you do when someone dies? Ted London wouldn’t want me to sit at home, crying over him. He would want me to party even harder.
Their eyes ask: Should we go? Are we allowed to have fun? Did I eat too much pot?
I answer with a smile and say, “Let’s do this.”
GEORGIA, 8:11 P.M.
Jake helps me out of his truck. The air is crisp as hell. I guess the humidity took a night off. My date is easily the most dapper gent in all of Texas, with his fitted dark blue suit and black lapels. Jake would make a great politician someday.
Every Hillcrest homecoming is at the Hyatt Regency in downtown Dallas. Only the best for us! Jake and I enter the ballroom like we own the place. It’s dimly lit (romantic), and awash with gold balloons (fancy), candles (dangerous), and a buffet table covered in appetizers from the Piggly Wiggly (gross). The DJ—approved by the school board—is on the stage, and no one is dancing.
We hit the dance floor and make our presence known. There’s some sexy and silly dancing going down. By the time the song is finished, we’re surrounded by people dancing. This is my homecoming. Jake and I dance it out for a couple songs and make our rounds, saying hellos and fawning over dresses. I spot Lauren and Mia, looking fantastic. I pretend to ignore them and have more fun.
During a slow song, Jake sneaks me into a corner of the