“Izzy, Izzy.” Giac catches my arm. “You are beautiful and I love our time together. I’m sorry if you thought I was trying to be anything but a friend to you.”
My cheeks get hot. I can’t look at him. “Yeah. Ok, cool—”
“Izzy. I’m gay.” Giac puts a hand on my shoulder, and I am finally still. He smiles as he takes a sip of his drink. “I thought you knew that.”
My face burns. Gay? I have misread all of this. I quickly flip through my memories of the two of us and see it all in a new light: Giac was being friendly. He wasn’t flirting with me all those times, he wascomplimentingme. He was being nice. I’ve been out of the game so long that I’ve forgotten how to play it. I’ve forgotten how to know if I’m playing it at all. “Gay?” I ask.
“Yes,” Giac says. “Uh. . . I am attracted to men.”
“I know what gay means,” I say. “But. . . Valeria, she was basically planning our wedding.”
He shrugs. “Like I said, I keep my personal life and my work life separate. She probably did not realize.”
“There was the thing with Lucia at lunch. . . about double dating.”
He grimaces. “I thought we were all joking around.”
I turn to Giac. “Are you like, out?” I ask, my voice low. “Do people know?”
Giac laughs. “I’ve been out since I was 15. Yes, everyone I know well knows I’m gay, and that now includes you.” He fishes his phone out of his pocket and shows me his background. It’s Giac and a group of friends, smiling and wearing rainbow clothing. “This is from Perugia Pride last year.”
I start pacing. “I can’t believe I didn’t know. I represented West Hollywood, for Christ’s sake. Iwas in two pride parades last year, I’ve been onLas Culturistas, I was a guest judge onDrag Race.” I run my hands through my hair. “I’m for the gays, Giac.”
Giac lightly laughs, unsure of how exactly to proceed. “I don’t doubt that.”
“I can’t believe I tried to kiss you. I’m so sorry. This is humiliating.” I sigh heavily, leaning my head back, the stupid stars and their endless shimmer mocking me.
Giac swallows his laugh, shakes his head, and grabs my right hand. “I’ll admit this is not the first time this has happened. Do not be embarrassed.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I say. “I’m so lonely and desperate that I convinced myself a gay man wanted me. Everything they said about me is true. I live in a fantasy world where I’m the hottest person on earth and everyone wants me, but it’s not true. I mean, clearly. First Levi, now you. I am pathetic.”
“No, no. You’re not.” Giac strokes my hand like I’m a mewing cat and it honestly does help a little. “And for what it’s worth, if I were going to have sex with a woman, I’d choose you.”
I bury my face in my free hand. “That does not make me feel better. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hit on you. I’m a predator.”
“You’re not!” He jiggles my hand so that I will look back up at him. “I always thought we were on the same page. I always thought we were on our way to becoming good friends.”
A smile forces its way out of me, despite the fact that deep down I am praying for death to find mequickly. “Well, I’d be glad to know I have you as a friend.” It’s hard to look at him, but when I finally do, I see that he is completely unoffended.
“Me too,” he says. “It’s hard to find new friends in La Musa. You know what they always say, hold on, let me translate—if you’re old enough to drive a car—”
“Or too young to have laugh lines, you don’t belong in La Musa.” I join him in laughter and the shame begins to subside with excitement filling its place. I have a friend in La Musa. That brings the grand total to one, but it’s one more than I started with.
I say good night to Giac and walk upstairs to my bedroom. I’m exhausted. I have a thin strip of fabric up my ass and the underwires from the bra are cutting into my skin. I want to take a shower and watchHousewivesand go to sleep. I can’t believe I shaved everywhere for this night.
The door to Benito’s room is open and the light is on, no doubt because he wanted to make sure I came upstairs alone. I try to speed walk past his door but since I’ve yet to possess the powers of the Flash, he catches me.
“Izzy,” he says. I stop and turn to face him. I’ve never seen the inside of his room, and it startles me how much it looks like a child’s room, with bright yellow wallpaper and a tufted indigo duvet on his bed that looks like it’s from the ’90s. He’s reclining on his bed, his back propped up by pillows with a frilly trim.He’s on his laptop but he closes it and puts it down next to him. He’s changed out of his suit and is now in the same sleepwear as the other night.
“What?” I ask. Whatever this is, I know I don’t have the energy for it.
“How was your date?” he asks. His face is still but it looks tense, like he’s flexing every muscle above his neck to prevent any expression.
“It wasn’t a date,” I say, because now I know that it wasn’t. “Why do you care?”
Benito shrugs, his face still unmoving. “I was just asking.”
I take a couple of steps into the room. There are cherubs on the wallpaper. Chubby baby angels on the walls of Benito’s bedroom. I point at it. “Did you pick this out?”
