“Oh, I guess I got confused with all the hand-holding.”
“It’s hard going out with cameras everywhere. I’ll grab anyone’s hand. It’s a support thing.”
“So, he was your emotional support gay? Do you get a fancy tax write off for that or something.”
I chuckle. More so because what he’s saying is exactly spot-on than it being actually funny, though I admit, it’s kind of hilarious. “Yes, Chaz was my emotional support gay. He did my hair and makeup for two of my films, and because of that, we were on location together and went out a lot. He had no interest in me, though. Not when he was banging some smokin’ hot crew member.”
“Well, he’d have to be gay to not be interested.”
It’s hard to describe what those words do to me. It’s what I craved to hear, years ago, words that would have kept me on cloud nine for days, but now, at nearly thirty, they have an entirely different effect on me. I squeeze my legs together, trying to abate the heat emanating from my loins as I struggle to keep my breathing steady.
Don’t be stupid. Don’t complicate things. Sure, he’s hot—ridiculously hot—but hugely complicated.
“I want names,” I finally say. “Who’s the woman that broke your heart?”
“Broke my heart? You assume too much.”
“If you won’t name her, she did some damage.”
“Vicki Henderson,” he spits out.
“Vicki? That bitch?”
“You know her?”
“She tried to get me left behind when we went to states. Said I had a stomach bug. There were supposed to be college scouts in the stands.”
“Well, things seemed to have turned out pretty well for you, and not so much for her.”
“Oh?”
“She got in with a bad crowd during her college years. Got her hooked on some stuff. When I got with her, she had cleaned herself up and was fighting for custody of her son, Eric. We were doing good, but something happened. I wish I could go back, see the signs, be more attentive. Hindsight.”
My heart aches for him, not because I can’t imagine what he’s been through, but because I know all too well. The entertainment industry is no stranger to addiction, and watching someone hit ‘rock bottom’ is worse than most horror movies. The pain they do to themselves, the pain inflicted upon their friends and families, is unfathomable unless you’ve been through it.
I, too, have felt loss.
I extend my hand out, lightly touching his shoulder. He flinches. It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable, so I pull away.
“I’ve known people who have suffered. I’m sorry for what you had to go through.”
He glances askance at me, his lips pursing. “You in any kind of trouble?”
I don’t like the judgmental tone in his voice, and I certainly don’t like the implications of his words.
“What do you mean to imply?”
“It just came as quite a shock when the headline ‘Trainwreck Tammy’ started appearing all over the internet is all. I know your kin, they’re good people. I want to make sure that if you need help, you’re gonna get it.”
Anger needles me. If the car had been stopped, I would have surely gotten out and walked home. But that’s not an option, and this isn’t going to be the last time I have to deal with this.
“While I appreciate your concern, I can assure you, I am in no danger. I don’t touch drugs, and I rarely drink. What happened…I just made a mistake. A big one.”
He says nothing, which makes me all the more self-conscious.
“I’m kind of a lightweight, it’s not the first time I’ve gone overboard, so I have a system. Red drink first, then blue drink, then orange drink, finally water. Never more than one drink every thirty minutes. I have to have the system, or I’ll lose track and get sloppy. At Saint Cloud, I followed it…I guess they just made the drinks stronger.”
“Well, your family loves you.”
