“I’m getting that investigator topull up more on what happened to Mom,” I say.
“Don’t go digging around in thepast, Tad. There’s nothing back there for us.”
“But I need it,” I say. “I need toknow what happened. I need to know where she was. Why she went that far. Afterso many years of questions, I feel like I deserve a few answers.”
He nods. “I guess that’s fair.”
But as much as he’s conceded, I knowhe’s not eager about me knowing more about her or her life. That he wishes wecould just bury that part of our lives forever. But I can’t.
Forty-Eight
Bryce
Tad stands before a podium. His hair is gelled to the side.In a black suit and tie, he doesn’t look like a football player. He looks likea movie star. He flashes his ever-charming smile to the audience of investorspacked at tables that have been placed throughout the room.
It’s been a week since the KiraWilde interview, and Tad hasn’t released a statement about his mother yet. Heand Debra have crafted an interview with media darling Emily Carter, who theybelieve will help diffuse this mess. She’s meeting him at this fundraiser forthe Dallas clinic. Debra thinks it’ll be a great opportunity to remind thepublic that Tad is a decent guy, regardless of what people may think about whathe and Kiernan have been covering up about Tad’s mother.
Early in the week, the FBI managedto track down the assholes responsible for my pic. It was one of thephotographer’s assistants who sold the picture off to some dick paparazzi, andfortunately, they’re all getting criminal charges pressed against them. Butregardless of however they’re sentenced, it won’t undo the pain of thatexperience—the feeling I get in the pit of my stomach every time I think of howinvasive that moment was. How disempowering. How utterly violating.
“Good evening, everyone,” Tad saysas he sets his speech on the podium and raises the mic until it’s just beneathhis chin.
Considering it was just a fewnights earlier that he was fussing at Kiernan about their past with his mother,he’s doing a great job of at least pretending it hasn’t ruffled his feathers.It reminds me of the way I concealed my pain about Jeff from the world. Dyingon the inside, but having to show everyone else a different story in the hopesthat they wouldn’t be as concerned about me as they probably should have been.
“I’m really glad you made ittonight,” he says, “because this cause, this clinic, means a great deal to me.As most of you probably know, I don’t really have the brains to run anoperation like this. I’m not much of a businessman.”
With how much of his career isabout business, I know he’s selling himself short. I wonder if he really believeswhat he’s saying or if he’s just giving the audience what he thinks they want.
“It’s why I surround myself withpeople who are good businessmen. And it’s why I’ve always surrounded myselfwith people that I trust. This clinic is no different. When I first met BrentRogers, who started working with HIV patients in Dallas in 2007 when he wasjust out of college, I knew he was a guy I wanted to work with. Not justbecause he had a passion for change and devotion to improving the quality oflife for the LGBT community, but because he found ways of making it work.Beginning back when he had a handful of patients he was counseling with hispeers, within five years he had created the Positive Changes Life ResourcesCenter for HIV-positive patients, which has served over 3,000 gay men since itfirst opened in 2010. I first met Brent two years ago. We were attending afunction where they were discussing disseminating PrEP to high-riskpopulations, and when Brent pitched his idea for a way to bring these resourcesto Dallas, I wanted to be on board because I believed in the cause and Ibelieved in Brent. So I hope everyone tonight will dig deep into their wallets.As deeply as you can.”
Giggles around the room inappreciation of his not-so-subtle plea.
“And let’s give a warm welcome tothe real hero tonight, Brent Rogers.”
Tad claps as a man with a goatee, ina pair of thick black-rimmed glasses, approaches the podium. About a footshorter than Tad, he bends the mic down to accommodate his height.
“Thanks for not adjusting this forme,” he jokes, which evokes more laughter from the audience.
After Brent delivers his own pleafor donations, we congregate with the other attendees outside the auditorium.
I glance at Jamison and Terry, whochat on the other side of the room, dressed as any other party guests. They’realways reminders of what we have to keep on guard against.
Tad speaks with a few reportersbeside Debra, who has been a ball of stress since she returned. Not justbecause she had to fix this whole debacle with Tad’s mother, but because of herconcern about her own mother’s treatment, which is taking place right now. Itreminds me of what an inconsiderate asshole Tad can be sometimes.
Tad smiles that charming smile asDebra arranges meetings with the line of reporters who are eager to speak withhim. A few reporters ask me questions until I slip into the nearby room withrefreshments to escape the madness.
Brent stands at a coffeepercolator, dispensing some into a cup. As I approach and grab a cup from astack beside him, he turns to me and smiles. His glasses glisten under thefluorescent lights.
“How you enjoying the life?” heasks with a smirk, as though he knows it can’t be easy. But I’m wondering howmuch he knows about everything we’ve been dealing with recently.
“I’m sorry about what happened toyou,” he says quickly.
“I’ll live,” I say as I dispensesome coffee from the percolator. It’s the most hopeful I’ve been about thesituation since it came up.
“You’re a brave man.” He takes asip from his coffee and as he pulls the cup away from his mouth, he wipes theback of his hand across his goatee. “Tad’s a great guy and all, but I don’tthink I could take it.”
“It’s not that bad,” I lie, and Ican tell by his expression that he doesn’t believe me.
“Well, maybe it’s just me then,”he says. The way he says it, I detect there’s more to Tad and Brent’s past thanTad let on in his speech.
