Page 139 of Levi

“That’s the job.” Benji gives the tray a quarter-turn on the counter.

“Mm.” Freddie turns to me. “You look rested, Levi. Big night tomorrow. Nice that you’ve got somewhere comfortable to relax.”

“It’s a nice house,” I say.

“It’s Mr. Reyes’s nice house. Or his client’s, I should say.” He turns to Dante and smiles. “Hard to keep straight whose it is, everyone’s so at home in it.”

Dante doesn’t move. His professional mask came down the second the door opened. “The house belongs to a developer in Atlanta,” he says. “I hope to sell it for him tomorrow. Everyone here is working under the direction of the owner.”

The two of them stare at each other a few seconds too long.

“Of course,” Freddie says.

Nobody’s hands are doing what they were doing two minutes ago. The easy thing we had is gone.

Dante turns to Benji. “We’re low on stems and the cheese needs to be picked up.”

Benji hears it for what it is. We need to go. He wipes his hands, grabs his keys. On his way past me he drops close, “Text me if you need an extraction.” Then, for Freddie’s benefit, “Don’t touch the orchids. They’re sensitive.”

Dante’s last out. His hand finds my back one second as he passes, on Freddie’s blind side, there and gone. Then it’s only me and Freddie.

“Sit down, Levi.” He doesn’t sit. “I want to say something once, and I want you to hear it. Tomorrow’s a big day. I need your head right.”

I stay standing and he doesn’t argue.

“I’ve always known,” he says. “You think this is news to me? I’ve known since you were a kid in an old jacket who couldn’t look the camera in the eye when we talked about girls. I knew before you knew, probably.” He watches me take it in. “I don’t care that you’re gay. I never have. I want to be very clear, because I think you’ve spent a long time believing I’m something I’m not. It’s not a moral position for me. It was never going to be a problem between us. I genuinely do not care.”

Eight years of my life in a closet comes apart without a sound.

I was sure to my bones the day the truth got out to Freddie was the day the roof came down. I’ve built my life on it. It cost me everything I had.

And Freddie just told me it didn’t matter to him.

“Okay,” I say. It’s all I can get out.

“It’s not okay yet.” The kindness goes out of him, and the bloodless manager comes up. “It’s far from okay. Because what I walked into just now, that I care about. You getting sloppy in a house full of people who let you forget what you are to millions of fans. That’s what blows it up, Levi.” He buttons his jacket. “Your brand is straight. The brand sells out stadiums on straight. You let what I just watched get out of here with a phone in its pocket, and it’s not a bad week, it’s everything. The tours, the catalog, every dollar with your name near it, gone. A lot of people’s mortgages with it. People who are counting on you to keep up your end of the deal will be hurt.” He’s already turning for the foyer. “I know exactly what you are. It changes nothing. Now go be straight on a stage tomorrow night like your life depends on it. Because the fancy life you have? It does.”

He lets himself out. I sit down on a kitchen stool before my legs give way. All these years. Everything I gave up, for nothing. Because if he always knew and never cared, the lock on me was never about anybody’s heart. There’s nobody on the other side of the closet I’ve been protecting. Nobody’s heart breaks if I open it. It just costs the label money. Which makes it smaller than I ever thought it was. Cheaper. Easier, someday, to walk out of. Because walking out doesn’t betray a single soul.

The thought is dangerous and I let it stay.

The burner buzzes against my hip.

Dante: You okay over there?

Define okay, I think, and don’t send.

Levi: Yeah. Hurry back to finish up.

Tomorrow, he has a sale to make and a stage is waiting on me.

Chapter 54: Dante

The house has never looked this perfect. We finished late last night and it shows. Orchids on the console. The great room dressed so the glass and the water do the selling. Every surface says the same whisper to anyone with the money to hear it.

Nothing has ever gone wrong here.

That sentence is the product, same as it was two weeks ago. The difference is the visit. Last time she came to hear the sentence. Today she’s coming back to check the math on it.