Chapter 24 – David #2
“I think that we need to move up the timeline of you two coming out,” Vin replies.
“Maybe I just need to make a statement,” I try, but we all know that’s not going to be good enough.
“What do you think, Vincent? Could that take some of the heat off the situation? I really don’t want David paraded in front of the press right now,” Rich asks.
“Maybe. I’ll talk to Charmaine,” Vincent replies. “Talk soon.”
Vincent hangs up the phone, and Rich pauses the TV. He shifts from behind me, and pulls a stool so that he’s sitting in front of me.
“This isn’t good,” Rich starts.
“But they can’t see that it’s you,” I venture. I’m suddenly feeling so drained. My plan had been to decide what I was going to be doing with my life, settle myself mentally, then arrange to do the interview. But, as usual, the press had other ideas.
“Are you okay?” Rich suddenly asks.
“No, not really,” I reply honestly. “Everything is just too much.”
“What can I do?”
“I have no idea. I need space. Time to think,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we have that luxury.”
“I know.”
“Let’s just see what happens,” Rich states. “And hope nothing comes of it.”
As it is with the press, it didn’t go away.
It got worse. It got a lot worse. Twenty-four hours after the phone call from Vincent, news outlets started to pick up on the story.
The only slight piece of good news was that no one suspected that the other person was Richard.
He was just an unknown man and wasn’t linked to Montague Racing.
Then, as the days passed, the calls started. Charmaine had been screening them, but they hadn’t stopped. When they weren’t getting a satisfying answer from Charmaine, they tried to call Vincent. Asking if the rumours were true, that I was gay. If the man that I’m embracing was my boyfriend.
As more and more started to come out, the more I retreated into myself. Mine and Rich’s narrative had been taken away from us and I hated it. Our story should have been allowed to come out on our terms.
“Dave,” Rich’s voice sounds gently next to me. I’m in our bedroom. My safe place at the moment, and I shift over so he can sit on the edge of the bed.
“Hey,” I say back to him.
“There’s been a development,” Rich says, and I almost want to cry.
“What?” I ask, but I don’t really want to know.
“Looks like some journalists have been digging into your past,” Rich says, gently.
“And?” But I have a feeling that I know what’s coming.
“They know about you and Jasper. Looks like a journalist was wondering why Jasper was with you,” Rich states.
“How is Jasper?”
“Jasper is Jasper, and one tough son of bitch,” Rich says, which makes me smile because I know that Rich is right. “From my understanding, he told the press to piss off, Vincent wasn’t too impressed with that.”
“I can imagine.”
“He might have also called them vultures. Charmaine, I think, had a heart attack at that one. Jasper is now having PR training.”
For the first time in days, I laugh.
“That is a good sound,” Rich says over to me, which makes me feel so guilty, that me laughing gives him joy.
“I’m guessing that Charmaine wants me to have a press conference,” I say over to him.
“She does, and I’ve told her straight that, at the moment, that is not happening.”
“What?”
“Baby, you are not in any fit state to take that on,” he tells me.
“But the press spotlight can’t be good. Surely, this is damaging the team.”
“You are my primary concern. Not the team,” Rich says vehemently.
“But…”
“No, there are no buts. Vincent knows that he can’t parade you in front of the cameras.”
I’m not sure what to say to this. It feels like Rich is putting a lot on the line for me. He didn’t sign up for this. The vows are to state in sickness and health, not sickness and dealing with the press.
“They’re not going to stop,” I tell him.
“True, but the racing season is over. Let Vincent and Charmaine deal with the press, but I think that Vincent is going to announce that Otis will be joining the team permanently next year.”
“Okay.”
“He’s hoping that this news will shift the focus from you to Otis. Giving you time to heal. Then we can come out when we want to.”
“Will that work?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. The chance of another gay racing driver could trump Otis, but we have the fact that he finished in the top ten in Qatar, and Abu Dhabi.”
It sounds like Otis’s driving has been impressive, and I missed it all.
A small part of me is pleased for Otis, he’s a good guy, and deserves this.
He’s worked hard for it. But there is that other part of me that hates it.
The part of me that had secretly hoped he had failed.
That the leap from F2 to F1 would be too great for him.
“You want to come downstairs for a while?” Rich asks.
“No,” I tell him.
“Okay. I’ll come and check on you later,” he tells me, as he gets up off the bed.
“Rich, I’m sorry,” I mumble.
He is instantly back on the bed, brushing an imaginary hair away from my face. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for. You have been through a lot.”
I know that he’s worried about me. I know that he wants me to go and see someone. That he thinks I need to talk to someone impartial about what is happening. He may not realise it, but I have heard him talking about it on the phone.
“All I want you to do is concentrate on getting better,” Rich adds as he kisses my forehead. “Get some sleep.”
I want to argue with him, but I’m tired, or maybe drained is the right word. It feels like the world is on my shoulders demanding answers that I cannot give them, so following his instructions, I close my eyes and let sleep take me.
Why is everything so hot? Opening my eyes all I can see is orange, flames burning bright.
Surrounding me. I try to move but I’m stuck in my seat.
I try to scream for help, but no sound comes out of my mouth.
Instead, the heat and orange encroach on me.
There is no escape from it, and I feel my skin burning.
When I look at my hands, they’re black. I need to get out of here, but every move I make seems to hold me in place tighter.
I try to push against the invisible restraints, but it’s no good. The flames get closer.
“Baby,” Rich’s voice sounds, but I can’t see where it’s coming from. All I see is the orange.
“Baby,” the voice comes again, and I feel myself shake. “Wake up.”
Suddenly, I open my eyes and I’m not sure where I am. I look around me, the orange flames are gone. I’m in my bedroom, in my bed with Rich. But I’m drenched in sweat, and when I look over to Rich, his face is etched with concern.
“You were having a nightmare,” he tells me.
“I was in the car,” I tell him, the words falling unaided.
“You’re safe,” Rich adds, as he moves so that he can wrap his arms around me, holding me tight to him, and gently rocking us. “I have you. You’re okay.”
“I couldn’t get out. It was so hot.” My voice breaks on the final words, as the tears start to follow, and all the emotions from the last few weeks start flowing out of me, and I know that I need to get help.