Page 45

He said it in the low voice. The one that isn't for sale, and the kitchen went entirely still.

Steven lowered the phone about six inches.

"I have asked you," Lance said, "three times. Yesterday at the pond, this morning at breakfast, and thirty seconds ago in the hall. I'm going to say it once more, and then I am going to be extremely unpleasant about it, which I would prefer not to be, because I want to like you." A breath. "I don't do social media. I pay two people a great deal of money to keep my face off social media. That is not modesty and it is not me being difficult. It is a contractual matter. It’s also the only reason I can walk into a room without knowing in advance what's going to happen to me in it."

"But that's exactly what I—"

"No."

"—Ascendant isn't media, Lance, that's the entire point of the platform, it's a community—"

"No!"

Steven stopped.

And I saw it. It lasted under a second and I don't believe anybody else in that room caught it, because everybody else in that room was staring at Lance Hayworth.

Hurt. Plain, uncomplicated, undefended hurt, going across my fiancé's face like weather. Then he put the phone in his pocket and rallied, which is the thing about Steven. He always rallies.

"Okay! No, totally. That's your boundary, I respect that a hundred percent." He was already brightening. "And honestly — you know what, that's powerful, because so many men in your position feel like they owe the world access, and the fact that you've drawn that line is exactly the kind of thing our members need modeled, and I know it sounds like I'm still pitching, but I'm genuinely not, I'm saying that as a queer person in this industry—"

"Steven." I put a hand up.

"—because Ascendant isn't about content, it's about men having the resources and the language and the community to—"

"Steven." I stood. "Come with me a moment."

I took him by the elbow into the dining room and shut the door, which I regretted immediately, because shutting a door turns a thing into a Thing.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"You've got your pissy face on."

"I don't have a pissy face." I let go of his elbow. "Lance is a guest in my parents' house. He's not working. When he says he doesn't want to be filmed, that is the end of it. It isn't the beginning of a conversation about why he might reconsider."

"I wasn't—"

"You asked him three times."

"I asked him twice and then I explained the platform, which is different, because he doesn't actually understand what Ascendant is, he thinks it's like—"

"He understands what it is."

Steven stared at me.

"Okay," he said. "Wow. Okay."

"I'm not attacking you."

"No, no, I hear you." He was nodding rapidly, which is what he does instead of arguing. "It's just — this is my job, Blaine. That's the part I think sometimes doesn't fully land with you. You have a job where people take you seriously and I have a job where everyone thinks I'm taking selfies. But I'm running a vertical with a revenue target, and my leadership team gets here Friday, and I have exactly one asset on this property besides Lance that anybody at that company would care about."

"Zephyr."

"Zephyr. Who, by the way, I have not been aggressive with, because Gregory asked me to wait until Thursday. Which I did." He pushed his hair back. "So no. I'm not going to film your movie star bestie. I'm sorry. I heard you."

And he meant every word of it. That's the thing I need understood about Steven Ellis Bland. He is not a liar and he is not a fool, and in that moment he was entirely sincere.