Chapter -17-
Five Years Ago
Senior Year—Fall Semester
Kenneth Carter loves a themed party.
This year’s annual New Year’s Eve bash is Cinematic Beginnings.
The Belvedere Ballroom, inside a downtown Atlanta hotel, is decked out glamorously: soft gold lighting and champagne-colored decorations.
Professional hair and makeup stations in the corners.
Black-linen-covered tables with mini Oscar statues holding peonies and popcorn-filled film canisters and Polaroid instant cameras.
Marquees hang over the bars advertising theme-appropriate cocktails. A red carpet leads to the dance floor.
It’s so corny and extra .
Denz’s thoughts are confirmed by the movie New Year’s Eve projected on one of the far walls. Tonight’s also very on brand for one of his dad’s events.
After an hour of mingling, Denz escapes the main floor. Fuck, he hasn’t missed this. The life he has to lead as the son of Kenneth Carter. All the endless smiling and handshakes and boring conversations with VIP influencers. College has spoiled him.
At the bar, he procures a tray of drinks and a slice of silky chocolate espresso cake. Then, he’s on an elevator to the private second floor. Away from the noise.
Closer to the real reason he’s here.
“This is… bananas.”
Leaning over the half wall to watch the socializing below, Bray looks equally awed and terrified.
He doesn’t fit in with this crowd. Not in a suit borrowed from his dad, his fresh buzz cut barely hiding how soft and boyish his face is.
But Denz loves how out of place his boyfriend is.
An old pair of Jordans in a closet full of glass slippers.
He loves that Bray’s here . In his world. For the first time.
To Bray’s left, Nic smirks. “This is average, ” she says over OutKast’s “Hey Ya!”
“Really?”
“Please.” Nic is at least eight inches shorter than Bray, but she still manages to look down at him when she says, “Wait until you see the birthday parties. Or Valentine’s. The mayor goes all out.” She rolls her eyes. “God forbid another Sedwick gets engaged. Those are intense.”
“Who?”
“Listen, junior.” Nic pats the back of his hand.
Denz swears there’s a sixty-year-old hairdresser trapped inside his sister’s body.
“This is who we are. This is your life now. Parties. Smiling twenty-four-seven. Pretending to like strangers. Having people go through your trash to see what you ate for lunch.”
“They do what ?” Bray goes pale.
“Enough, Nic.” Denz wedges himself between them. He passes Nic a highball of pineapple juice. “Stop scaring my boyfriend.”
She steals the cake slice, grinning. “Not my fault he’s weak-minded.”
“I’m not—”
“Jesus,” Denz says, interrupting Bray’s protest. “You’re just like Dad.”
Through a mouthful of cake, she says, “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Neither is your face in this lighting.”
Denz chokes on a laugh. He’s definitely missed Nic. He pivots to Bray. Hands him a rum and Coke. “Drink,” he instructs.
Bray does, whispering, “Who are the… Sedwicks?”
“Nobody important,” Denz asserts before downing his lemon drop martini. “Doing okay?”
He recognizes Bray’s restlessness. How pinched his face gets. The sheen of sweat on his forehead. That same nervous Bray he saw across the room almost three years ago. The one who tries so hard to look comfortable at parties.
Denz considered turning down his dad’s invitation to bring Bray. It’s not as if Denz wanted to show up either. But Bray insisted. Last New Year’s was spent with Emmanuel. Plus, after their final winter semester of hell at UGA, they needed this.
“I’m fine,” Bray says.
“Liar,” Denz teases. He loosens Bray’s poorly knotted tie.
“At least the aunties aren’t here,” Nic says.
Denz sighs. Thank you, Uncle Orlando, for wanting to reignite the fire in your marriage by taking Auntie Eva to Fiji for the holidays. Also, thanks for inviting Auntie Cheryl and Uncle Tevin along.
He’s pretty sure Bray wouldn’t survive a party as big as this and that introduction.
“How’s your dad?” Bray asks.
Denz leans his elbows on the half wall, sighing.
“Busy as ever.”
In the sea of bodies and overflowing champagne flutes, Denz easily finds his dad.
Grape bow tie matching his pocket square.
Classic Ralph Lauren tuxedo with tails. The one man in the room who moves from conversation to conversation with relaxed shoulders and genuine enthusiasm.
Everything Denz fails to imitate at these parties.
They haven’t had five minutes to talk all night. But at least he knows Denz is here. At least he’s already given his smile of approval to Bray.
Bray bumps his shoulder. “Is this what you’re going to be like? After we graduate?”
“Hmm?”
“You know.” Bray nods toward the stage, lowering his voice to say, “Like your dad.”
“Oh, no. I don’t want this.”
Bray’s lips quirk in bemusement. “Then what?”
Denz’s face wrinkles. “It’s not exactly what I want. I don’t know. It’s complicated.” He sips his martini. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Don’t make me think tonight.”
There’s something unreadable in the corner of Bray’s eyes. He doesn’t press. But Denz can see the questions forming.
“Besides…” Denz licks sugar from the rim of his glass. “My dad loves his company.”
“It’s his fourth child,” Nic confirms.
“He’ll never retire.”
“Nope. But I’m quitting,” Kami says, appearing from nowhere in a floral embroidered Zac Posen minidress. She swipes the last glass from Denz’s tray—a white wine. She’s halfway through before adding, “Dad’s so stubborn. This band is awful. And I hate these shoes.”
Nic points to her own feet. A pair of leather Superstars. “Always come prepared.”
Kami flips her off. “I don’t want to be an event manager anymore,” she complains. “Eric can have it.”
Somewhere below, Eric Tran is following their dad, checklist in hand, sweating through his suit.
“You’re doing fine,” Denz tells her.
“I’m serious. I’m quitting.” Kami whips out her phone. “Emailing my resignation now.”
Denz plucks the phone away. “No, you’re not.”
“Don’t make me hurt you.”
Denz edges away. He doesn’t think his sister will punch him.
He just wants to make sure she doesn’t toss the rest of her wine on his velvet dinner jacket, is all.
“Kam,” he says calmly, “you’re not quitting.
This company will collapse without you. You’re too good.
One day, you’re gonna throw a party a million fucking times better than this. It’s one night. Chill.”
Kami inhales deeply, the tension leaving her jaw.
Bray steps forward. “You know what you need?”
“More wine?”
“Stronger booze?” Denz offers.
“An edible, a new family and career, a decent man—”
“A dance,” Bray says, cutting Nic off. He extends a hand to Kami, beaming. “C’mon.”
“Bray, you dance?”
“A little,” Bray replies as Denz barks out, “Hell no!”
Ignoring him, Bray loops an arm with Kami. He escorts her toward the elevator, winking at Denz over his shoulder.
“Okay,” Denz says in one long breath. “That’s happening.”
“Don’t be jealous,” Nic tells him.
“I’m not,” he snaps.
He’s not. A minute later, he’s not leaning over the half wall, glaring down at the crowd. The band covers an old Justin Timberlake song, “SexyBack.” Kami’s head is tipped back, cackling. And there’s Bray, buzz cut and ill-fitting suit, twerking like a hamster on MDMA.
“What the f—”
Denz cuts himself off, howling.
Bray, who hates parties, who never wants attention, who moves like a superhero movie actor trying to be a dancer, is rolling his hips in the middle of the dance floor. Rotating spotlights catch on his grin. He’s off beat and doesn’t care. He spins Kami until they’re both dizzy.
He has fun .
“Wow,” Nic says, “when’s the wedding?”
Denz’s head jerks in her direction. Bad move. The alcohol’s starting to settle in his system. “Excuse me?”
“Uh, your face whenever you look at him?” Nic’s eyes slide to where Bray is. “Bro, you’re gone. Down bad. Crazy in love like Bey.”
He squints. “What do you know about love? You’re fourteen .”
“Clearly I know more than you.”
“Hush.” He snatches her glass, sniffs to make sure the bartender didn’t accidentally slip her any gin. “I’m not—we’re not. We haven’t… fuck. We’re still young .”
“So? Dad proposed to Mom at your age.”
He knows. And as much as Denz wants to be like his dad, he doesn’t want to be him. He wants slow. Time to figure his shit out. Bray does too.
What’s the rush?
Without thinking, his eyes find Bray again. Animated and laughing. So beautiful while dancing with Kami. His smile pushing into his cheeks, eyes crinkled. And Denz wants to wake up to that.
Tomorrow. And the day after. For the next few months while they finish their degrees. Years from now, too. For a limitless number of mornings until he forgets what life was like before this silly boy smiled at him from across a party.
He loses himself in the thought. Loses track of time until his dad’s on the stage, giving a speech. Until Kami shoves a flute of champagne into his hand.
Until Bray’s warm against his side again.
Until Nic squishes the four of them together, Bray using his ridiculously long arms to snap a Polaroid.
And Denz was so wrong. Bray does fit in. Right between the Denz from Athens and the Denz who lives here, with his sisters, two worlds finally connected.
The countdown starts. He hears the chorus of screams from below. The shouting from Kami and Nic. It’s all white noise. Never quite as loud as Bray’s question from earlier:
Is this what you’re going to be like? After we graduate?
What? Happy? So in love, it might kill him?
Fuck, he hopes so. He really does.
“This is the Titanic, ” Eric says, glasses crooked, hair wrecked.
His sharp cheeks are as pink as the linen button-down he’s wearing.
The lack of a belt is clearly from running late this morning rather than a casual style choice.
“It’s the Titanic and we’re the band who decided playing music to keep everyone calm was smarter than abandoning ship. ”