“Three, maybe? I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. I can’t sleep.” She sounded on edge. “Is Miles with you?”
“No.”
The cab ride home had been silent but for a few desultory observations about the weather and the late hour. At the end of the drive, Miles had tapped his credit card without bothering to hear the total, as he’d dropped it on the cheque at the restaurant without looking; his carelessness about money a timely reminder of the gulf between us. A reminder that he was Miles fucking Callahan. I hadn’t waited to see if he wanted me to spend the night after that. It had been a long day and I needed sleep.
“So,” I said when she didn’t immediately reply. “Is that all you wanted? Or is there something else I can help you with?”
Tina gave a light, breathy laugh. “I don’t know. Miles has not been . . . forthcoming about the nature of your relationship, so I can only hope I’m right in assuming that him being gay is not news to you.”
“Uh, not news, no.”
“Then perhaps I am also right in thinking it was you he was seen kissing last night.”
Her words sank into my gut like a brick, halting even my slow pacing across the bedroom floor. “Yeah. It was just two girls who’d asked him for an autograph though, it wasn’t a big deal.”
“Unfortunately, when you’re Miles Callahan everything is a big deal. He has some . . . very intense fans, so things like this tend to spread.”
“Things like what?”
“One of the girls posted a picture of herself with Miles at arestaurant, saying she got his autograph while he was on a date with his boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. The word tightened my throat even as I shook my head. “I’m not his boyfriend.”
“But you had dinner last night? And kissed in public?”
“In public is a stretch. There was no one around.”
“There’s always someone around. Did he tell you the paparazzi followed him to a gay club in Miami a few months ago? Just something a few do now, since they know we’ll buy the photos. It’s hard to protect against that—they’re sneaky bastards—but he’s never been this careless with something so simple before.”
I stared unseeing at the faded blue curtains, a sneer slowly twisting my lips. Choosing to be honest meant I was safe from such things, while Miles had preferred to keep his secret, even if it meant having to buy up compromising photos. I couldn’t tell if I felt more anger or pity.
“The post has gotten a lot of traction,” Tina went on when I didn’t answer. “But it still seems to be within the ecosystem of Miles’s hardcore fanbase so I’m hoping with some damage control it’ll fizzle out. Thankfully, I’ve had no word that any publication has picked it up, so there’s that.”
“And what exactly do you want me to do about it?” I asked, not caring that the words came out with bite.
“Nothing directly. Your name has come up a few times but only as vague speculation because you’re known to be gay, and hopefully it’ll stay that way. I would, however, greatly appreciate it if you would let me know if anyone contacts you, or if any bloggers or journalists—anyone really—tags you in any overt speculation.”
A reasonable request in the circumstances. “All right, sure, I can do that.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything else?”
She laughed, a bright, brittle sound. “Don’t kiss him in public again?”
“I didn’t.”
“Pardon?”
“I didn’t,” I repeated. “He kissed me.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I promise I’m not trying to contaminate his image with my gayness.”
“I didn’t mean that, I—”
“I gotta go,” I said, too annoyed for explanations. “I’ll let you know if anyone contacts me. Otherwise, you know how to reach me now.”
