Chapter 14
Joel
When Shivonne had told Joel in January of that year that he’d been invited to be on the sponsorship committee for the gala, that Garde had specifically asked for him, he’d been hesitant to say yes.
He had been in the late stages of album production and had been planning his tour.
He ultimately had said yes, because he appreciated the charities that the Empire Gala supported, and he enjoyed fashion and art, and he was taking December off from the tour anyway, so he would be free.
There wasn’t much he had to do as a sponsor for the event, aside from speaking at a few press conferences beforehand and ensuring that he looked fantastic on the red carpet.
Ariadne was his date for the event, and Mei, who styled Joel for his tours, would be styling both of them for the event.
She had gone all out, crafting costumes that made Joel look like a Greek marble statue come to life, and Ariadne like a Celtic faerie.
His outfit left his chest and arms bare, and he wore gold on his arms and in his hair.
Photographers flocked to them on the red carpet, and Joel felt good having Ariadne on his arm.
She was a good friend whom he trusted and who made him feel safe.
He had been anxious for several weeks, ever since fleeing from Tampa and from the kiss with Quentin.
He couldn’t believe he had kissed the hockey player.
It was a lapse in judgment. He had surrendered to his passion and his desires, and it had felt so good in the moment, but had left him terrified.
He couldn’t let himself follow his feelings like that.
It had been impulsive and stupid, and since then, he had ignored every one of Quentin’s texts, even though it made him feel like shit doing so.
He had lost himself briefly in his feelings for Quentin, and he couldn’t risk doing it again.
“You seem distracted,” Ariadne said without moving her lips, while they posed for photos on the red carpet. Around them were other celebrities, all looking gorgeous and eccentric in their myth-inspired outfits.
“I’m sorry,” Joel said.
Ariadne squeezed his arm. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m just worried. Should I be worried?”
Joel felt bad hiding his truth from Ariadne.
They were best friends, and they trusted each other with almost anything.
The music business could be cutthroat and lonely, and he normally found comfort in having a good friend like Ariadne.
He didn’t like withholding the truth from her.
She had noticed that he hadn’t been himself for the last few weeks, and he knew that she cared about him and was worried, but he didn’t know how to tell her.
If he could trust anyone, it would be her, but he had never told her, or anyone, the truth about his sexuality, except for hints he had made to some very discreet lawyers he paid exorbitant fees to, who helped him craft NDAs for the rare men he hooked up with.
“You don’t have to be worried,” he whispered.
“Is it about your tour?”
“No.”
“But, there is something on your mind?”
“I suppose there is.”
“Do you want to talk about it later?”
“Definitely not at the gala.”
She smiled at him, encouraging. “Of course. Definitely not.”
They had a good time that night at the gala.
Joel tried to focus on the other guests and on the staff from Garde Magazine who worked so hard to make it happen.
Garde had recently hired a new Editor-in-Chief, named Crispin McCloud.
He was the first male Editor in Chief of the magazine and had worked hard to transform the magazine into something even more important and politically conscious.
Joel admired Crispin McCloud’s work. McCloud was still young and had important and thoughtful ideas about how fashion and the arts could shape and improve culture.
Joel and Ariadne introduced themselves to McCloud and his husband, a famous photographer and gallery owner named Willem Abajian.
McCloud complimented Joel’s outfit, and Willem spoke to Ariadne at length about her last two albums, which had been more experimental than her previous pop music.
The entire time, Joel’s mind threatened to wander, as it had for the last three weeks. All he could think about was the handsome hockey player who had captured his attention and wouldn’t let it go. He was beginning to understand what “heartsick” meant, and he didn’t enjoy it.
“You did a great job,” Ariadne said when they were in a private car after the event, headed back to his apartment in the Upper East Side. “You almost looked like you weren’t distracted.”
“Fuck, you could tell?”
“Only because I know you so well. Do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”
The traffic in Manhattan moved slowly, and they were facing each other in the back of the car.
Ariadne smiled gently at him. She was like a sister to him.
There was nothing romantic about their friendship, despite what the tabloids liked to say.
Joel could already picture the news articles and posts that would come out in the wake of the Empire Gala, saying that they had launched their relationship by appearing on the red carpet together.
He didn’t mind the rumors because they were never harmful or mean-spirited.
He usually found them funny, and so did Ariadne.
“It’s not something I’m used to talking about,” Joel admitted. Ariadne nodded silently, giving him time to think through his thoughts before sharing them.
They were near his apartment building when he sighed and said, “I think I’m interested in someone.
Romantically, that is. But it’s a difficult situation, and I think it would be hard to be together.
I…made a move indicating my interest recently, and it was reciprocated, but I panicked and ran away.
We haven’t seen each other since then, and, well, I don’t know what to do. ”
Ariadne nodded thoughtfully. They were stopped in traffic. “Do you want it to be something? Like, is it something you want to pursue?”
“I don’t think I can.” He didn’t know how to explain it to Ariadne without revealing his secret, and he certainly wasn’t going to do that in the back of a hired car. There was a privacy screen between them and the driver, but he wanted to be careful, all the same.
“Why not?” she asked. They rarely talked about Joel’s love life, because there wasn’t much to say, and she seemed both interested and concerned.
Finally, Joel couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned forward and whispered to Ariadne, “Because I’m interested in Quentin Hartley.”
Ariadne’s eyes widened as she processed the full scope of what he was saying. He wasn’t just admitting a crush to her—he was coming out, baring this part of his soul.
She took his hand and squeezed it gently. “I love you, Joel. I love you so much. Thank you for trusting me.”
Joel felt a massive weight off his shoulders. He felt a lightness, a looseness, in his chest that was entirely new. “My god,” he whispered, “you don’t know how good it feels to say this out loud, and how good it is to hear you say that.”
She hugged him. “I mean it. I love you.” She smiled. “How did it happen, between you and Quentin?”
Joel quietly explained the story to her, how he really had disliked Quentin when he met him, though the dislike may have been because he was unconsciously attracted to the hockey player.
He explained how things had developed, how, when they had been forced together, he had seen different sides of Quentin and come to realize that he really did find Quentin attractive.
And then, how he had finally gotten up the courage, or the recklessness, to act on his attraction, and then had immediately felt afraid, and had run from Quentin.
“So, he clearly feels the same about you,” Ariadne said.
“What do you mean?”
“He ran after you, out of the club, and he kissed you back.”
“I think he kissed me back. He may have just been surprised, or drunk. God, what if I took advantage of him because he was drunk?”
“Did he seem drunk?”
“No,” Joel admitted.
“Then, you’re just listening to your anxieties, and not to reality. You said he’s been trying to contact you?”
“Yes, and I’ve ignored him.”
“Joel.”
“What am I supposed to say? I don’t think he’s gay, and even if he is, could we even be together?”
“Yes,” Ariadne said flatly. “Why couldn’t you?”
“You know how the industry is. You know how our record label would respond to that. My fanbase is all girls and women who have crushes on me.”
“Not all of them,” Ariadne countered. “I would never push you to come out publicly if you aren’t comfortable, but imagine the difference you would make, and the people you would inspire.”
“I suppose, but I don’t want people to think they have any more right to look into my personal life than they already think.”
“I hear you on that one. Well, there are plenty of celebrities who keep their relationships low-key. You could do that, too. You don’t have to be public about it.”
“The sneaking around and the hiding would be exhausting.”
“It sounds to me like you’re finding excuses to not follow your heart.”
Joel gave her an annoyed look. “Remind me why I asked you for advice?”
“Because I’m very wise. You should talk to Quentin, at least tell him how you feel. Do you want a relationship, or do you just want to fuck?”
“Wow.”
“It’s a fair question, and there’s nothing wrong with just wanting to hook up. Sex isn’t bad.”
“You’re right. I definitely want to hook up. I don’t know about a relationship.”
“And you don’t need to know right now. You can just be honest about where you’re at.”
“I feel bad for running away. I was a coward when I did that.”
“Maybe so, but I think he’ll understand.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“No, but I know you, and I trust your taste.”
He smiled at her. They reached his building, and Joel thanked the driver.
They slipped out of the car, Ariadne on Joel’s arm, and his doorman let him into the large apartment building.
The lobby was dim and quiet, with piano music tinkling in the air.
Joel felt a bit silly wearing his costume, and he wanted to shower and change into comfortable clothes.
The building’s concierge got his attention. “Mr. Beckett? You have a guest waiting for you here in the lobby.”
Joel and Ariadne exchanged a glance. Joel’s building had excellent security, and there were only a few people they’d let in to see the famous people who lived there, if those guests weren’t residents themselves.
“Who…?” Ariadne began to ask, but then Joel saw him, sitting in a lounge chair by a large monstera plant.
Quentin Hartley wore a gray sweatshirt and dark jeans, with a navy blue duffle coat. His hair had been cut since Joel had last seen him, and there was a hopeful and concerned look in his eyes when he met Joel’s gaze.
Joel felt a shiver of heat run through his body, a flush that began at his neck, traveled down his back, and settled in his core.
“Oh, my god,” Ariadne whispered, squeezing Joel’s arm. “Is that…?”
“It is.”
She released him. “I just realized, I made plans tonight.”
“Ariadne…”
“They’re very important, and I can’t cancel them. Have fun!”
She left him standing there and went to the concierge to ask for a car.
Joel couldn’t move as Quentin stood slowly and walked over to Joel. Their gazes never broke. Quentin seemed to take up the entire room and all the oxygen. Joel couldn’t move, but he felt a magnetic pull towards Quentin.
The hockey player reached him, stopping a few paces from Joel. He still looked uncertain. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” Joel whispered.
“You can tell me to leave right now,” Quentin said, “and I will, and you won’t ever hear from me again.”
For the briefest moment, Joel thought about it. He thought about telling Quentin to leave. It would be so easy. He could go on living his life and forget that he knew Quentin. He could remain closeted; he wouldn’t have to confront the truths about himself that were getting harder to ignore.
“Stay,” he whispered.