Chapter -3- #2
The family’s probing into Denz’s romantic life is relentless.
Auntie Cheryl “randomly” pops up in his office to ask for a name.
Kami tries to get him to crack with long stares in the elevator.
Nic’s outright asked via text when he decided to lock down a man.
He can only ignore their questions for so long.
That’s why he’s spending part of his day conspiring with Jamie. They need ways to deal with the inevitable. Things like posting adorable photos on social media. Scheduled FaceTime calls while Denz is at the office. How to act in front of the Carters.
I thought you hated pet names, Jamie sends.
He does. Passionately. A side effect of the breakup with Braylon.
My tiny muffin . Three words whispered in the morning, to Denz’s mild annoyance. During study breaks. Between gasps as strong hands peeled off his clothes. In his worst moments, just to make him laugh.
“Fuck,” Denz hisses while staring at his phone. He’s gone forty-eight hours without thinking about Braylon. He can’t start now. He props one of the fundraiser invitations against an empty champagne flute. In the iridescent light, the curling gold script on the cardstock shimmers.
He gets a few shots before writing back: we need to be convincing!
They need an airtight plan. It won’t be enough to say he’s dating Jamie. To post a couple of photos online. The Carters will want in-person proof. And Jamie’s one semester of acting at UNC Chapel Hill won’t cut it.
Ellipses appear, then disappear.
Outside the ballroom, Denz leans against a marble column. Uniformed staff pass him in a flourish. He clocks three different guests wearing velour tracksuits right out of an early 2000s music video strolling into a meeting hall.
His phone buzzes. An email from his dad. Denz inhales sharply as he opens it.
DATE: Today, 1:02 P.M.
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: Future CEO Evaluation Assignments
Dear Staff,
Below are the promised assignments for the CEO assessment. Each candidate will oversee the planning and execution of a VIP event for the spring quarter, with the support of a small team. As these are two of our most valued and high-profile clients, I expect everyone to put their best foot forward.
The evaluation process will conclude March 28th. Should one candidate prove themselves a better fit, I’ll introduce them as the successor at my retirement party, a public statement to follow.
EVENT: Mayor Tiffany Reynolds’s Valentine’s Day Gala
DATE/TIME: February 14 at 8:00 P.M.
CANDIDATE: Denzel Carter
ASSISTED BY: Connor Fisher, Eric Tran
EVENT: Emily Sedwick’s Engagement Party
DATE/TIME: March 6 at 7:00 P.M .
CANDIDATE: Kamila Carter
ASSISTED BY: Kim Perry, Jordan Carter
If I find neither candidate suitable, 24 Carter Gold will announce a nationwide search for a new CEO in April.
Best of luck to all!
Regards,
Kenneth L. Carter
CEO, 24 Carter Gold
Event Planning Services
Denz skims the email twice before focusing on his section. The mayor’s annual Valentine’s Day gala. It’s Atlanta’s favorite party, an event they’ve organized since she took office. A cakewalk for him, honestly.
Kami has it much worse.
The Sedwicks have a long history with 24 Carter Gold.
Part of Denz wishes that was his assignment.
Their previous engagement parties for the two eldest daughters made the cover of Southern Bride, a featurette in People too.
It’d be the perfect opportunity for him to infuse some of the magic that made the company stand out.
But the Sedwicks are also notoriously… diva-like.
Over-the-top Southern glam on nitro. He doesn’t need that headache.
While rereading, Denz pauses, frowning. Eric’s listed as one of his assistants. Not a nominee.
When did he drop out of the competition? Why?
Denz makes a mental note to ask later.
Across the lobby, Connor looks at his phone before fist-pumping. Denz smiles at his Muppet-like waving.
It’s down to him and Kami. He’s unsure how to feel about that.
A notification chimes. The text preview startles him. It’s not from Jamie.
Mom
Since you’re avoiding us: dinner next Friday with me and dad.
7 PM reservation. Kingfisher & Redbud.
brING THE NEW BOYFRIEND!
Below the final message is a GIF of Tyra Banks shouting “We were all rooting for you!” Guilt knots in Denz’s stomach. He fires off a quick response.
we’ll be there!
you’re gonna lose it when you see who it is
Fuck, why did he add that last part?
Two seconds later, another chime. Jamie’s response: should we go on a practice date?
Near the front desk, Connor is wrapping up. Denz rushes to grab a couple more videos to edit later. He considers Jamie’s idea. They’re never going to fool anyone if they can’t get past his parents first. A practice date would help.
He sends back, coffee tomorrow at Crema? my treat.
On the way to meet Connor, Jamie’s reply lights up his phone:
See you tmrrw sweet cheeks!
“How is this so hard?” Denz groans.
“That’s what he—”
“ Don’t, ” Denz warns, glaring at Jamie, “finish that sentence.”
Jamie shoots him a yikes expression. One of many today.
In the span of thirty minutes, they’ve managed to fumble through ordering drinks for each other, argue over what table to sit at, and knock over a large glass of water—to the quiet annoyance of the Crema staff—just trying to hold hands.
Denz has held Jamie’s hand before. On drunken walks home from parties. During scary movies. That time Denz had the flu and vomited half his body weight into the toilet. But this?
This is different. It’s wrong .
On the table, Jamie’s hand looks like a dead fish in Denz’s. Nothing about them says We fucked in the car on the way here . Or You’re all I thought about today . It’s nothing like the way his hand used to look when held by—
Not going there, he reminds himself.
Point is, these aren’t boyfriend hands. It’s two people trying too hard, which won’t fly in front of Denz’s family. In front of his dad.
Fuck, it’s hand-holding, a basic human interaction most people learn as toddlers. Denz is more than capable of this.
“What if we…” He tries to rotate their palms. Jamie slurps loudly on his Berry Bliss iced tea, not even trying. “There!”
Denz has slipped his fingers between Jamie’s. It’s still awkward. Maybe if he strokes his thumb along Jamie’s knuckles and—
Nope. That feels wrong too.
“How are you so fucking bad at this?” Denz whispers loud enough to draw the attention of an exasperated mom in yoga pants and her curious kid. He grins apologetically before shifting back to Jamie.
“Er.” Thick, dark eyebrows hide under Jamie’s wavy bangs.
“What?” Denz snaps.
“Why are your palms so hot?”
“My palms are not hot. They’re average temperature. Normal .”
“It feels like I stuck my hand in a volcano.”
Denz scowls. “Luckily, we don’t have to hold hands the entire dinner.”
Only when they arrive and leave. He’s already laid out the rest of the arrangement for Jamie. Four family appearances: dinner with his parents, the Valentine’s gala, the Sedwicks’ engagement party, his dad’s retirement celebration. Anything else can be done without physical intimacy.
God, how weird is it going to look when he kisses Jamie?
“So, how’s Gigi?” he asks, instead.
Gigi is Jamie’s latest ex. It’s been four months since the breakup. He’s been uncharacteristically single ever since. New relationships for Jamie are like Kylie Minogue songs at gay clubs—on constant rotation. He’s also great at remaining friends with exes.
Denz can’t relate.
“She got a puppy,” Jamie says. “His name’s the Hulk.”
“Why?”
“It’s what she used to call me—”
“Jamie!” Denz bites back a laugh. “Forget I asked.” He’s too informed about his best friend’s sex life as it is.
“I thought you might want to use it as a pet name.” Jamie winks over his cup.
Denz shakes his head. “What about your parents?”
A frown creases Jamie’s mouth.
Jeff and Liz Peters are what Denz calls “conversational liberals.” The kind that love to remind everyone they “voted for the first Black president” while never standing up to their racist, homophobic, bigoted country club friends. Who never rally against laws that affect their own son’s community.
Despite his parents’ overflowing wealth, Jamie never accepts their money. Instead, he works at four different bars around downtown Atlanta. His charm and loveable face make up for the fact that he’s a nondrinker pretending to be a bartender.
Still, once a month, he accompanies his parents for dinner. Denz never asks why. He gets it. Everybody has that one shitty family member. In Jamie’s case, it’s two.
“I’m seeing them next week,” Jamie says.
“I’ll have Fire Island ready when you get home.”
Jamie smiles appreciatively.
The café door swings open. Denz’s eyes widen.
In strolls Jordan, phone to his ear. Denz wasn’t prepared for anyone from the office to show up during his practice date. Certainly not his cousin.
Actually… this is perfect .
“Hey.” He squeezes Jamie’s hand. “Jordan’s here. Let’s try out the boyfriend thing on him.”
Jamie’s face goes pale. “He—what? I. Wait. Are you sure?”
“Of course, honeybun .” Denz manages to not gag. “Jordan’s the best test subject.”
When they were teens, the three of them spent every summer together. An inseparable trio of puberty acne and late-night video game tournaments and remorseless chaos.
“No one knows us like him,” Denz says.
“But…” Jamie watches Jordan pick up a cardboard cup at the end of the bar. “What if we can’t bullshit him?”
“Then we’re fucked.”
“That’s not the confidence booster you think it is.”
“ Sweetheart, ” Denz says, head tilted, fake fondness in his voice, “we got this.”
“Do we? Because I think we should—”
“Jordan!” Denz waves his cousin over.
Jordan beams as he approaches. “Fellas! What’re you two up t—”
The sentence dies in a choked noise as Jordan gawks at the overlapping hands on the table. Denz beams at him. Jamie looks ready to launch himself out the nearest window.
“What, uh.” Jordan blinks hard. “Is going on?”
“Nothing.” Denz shrugs, casual as can be. “Just having lunch with my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend,” Jordan repeats hoarsely. He clears his throat several times. “As in dating? That kind of boyfriend?”
“Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.” Denz’s attempt to stare lovingly at Jamie resembles a raccoon gazing at an unattended trash pile. “Please don’t tell the fam. It’s a surprise.”
The “fuck me” Jamie whispers is met by an under-the-table kick from Denz.
“Wow!” Jordan’s eyes shift to Jamie. “This is… the best news ever?”
“It is!”
Jamie’s enthusiasm doesn’t match the my-soul-has-just-left-my-body horror in his eyes.
“Cool.” Jordan nods like an out-of-control bobblehead. “I should go. Just came to grab a gingerbread latte for my boss. Kami. Which you know, so.” He tugs at his collar. “Gotta grab these bad boys while supplies last!”
Denz raises an eyebrow. He hasn’t seen Jordan this excited since inhaling that batch of pot brownies Jamie baked them one summer.
“Congratulations! Love this for you two!”
Then Jordan’s gone.
Denz detangles their fingers. Jamie face-plants into his forearm. He mumbles something about cardiac arrest and calling a coroner, but Denz is too busy grinning. Convincing Jordan was a solid start. By the time they have dinner with his parents, Denz and Jamie will be ready.
The perfect fake boyfriends.