17. Gabe
17
GABE
“ T hat went really well, guys, Lund and McCormick were really impressed. Seriously, you should have seen senior management during that phone call. They were happy. Niya, you’ve been doing an excellent job with this project.”
“It’s a team effort, Winston,” Niya replied, ever the diplomat. “We’d be nowhere without Gabe. It doesn’t hurt that Bill’s taken a real shine to him. Lund and McCormick love his work.”
“You know, I’d noticed that. I think he’s pretty thrilled with you, Gabe.” Winston laughed. “We’d better make sure he doesn’t try to steal you out from under us.”
“I don’t think he likes me that much, guys,” I put in. “And I’m plenty happy where I am.”
Sure, Bill Achres at Lund and McCormick had latched onto the fact that I was also a University of Illinois alum. But I highly doubted he was going to try to hire me away from BHT. They must have had thousands of freshly graduated MBAs on their payroll already. I doubted they’d go out of their way to head-hunt me.
And for my part, I saw no reason to jump ship from one management consulting company to another. It would be like jumping out of the frying pan and into another, identically-sized frying pan, where the grease was oil instead of butter. A difference, but not an improvement.
“Well, I need to get onto another call,” Winston said. “Great work and let’s check in tomorrow. Gabe, you’re flying back to Georgia tonight?”
“Yep.”
“Still cannot understand why you would want to move there.” I could almost see Winston shaking his head. “Had you pegged for more of a city guy.”
“Eh, it’s complicated. Family stuff.” Family stuff was a lie, but the first part wasn’t. It was complicated, and the way I saw it, there was no need for my team at BHT to know details about my personal life. Especially when I had no idea how I’d explain it if they found out.
“Well, safe flight.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey Gabe, if you’ve got a minute, can you stay on the line for a sec?” Niya broke in as Winston hung up the phone. “Just want to run something by you quickly.”
“Oh, sure, Niya, what’s up?”
I had nothing but time at the moment. I was leaning back in the traveler’s club at the airport lounge in Cleveland, Ohio, and my flight didn’t board for another hour. I’d never loved the fact that I traveled all the time for work, but I’d never really minded it either until meeting Brooklyn. Now I found myself counting down the hours until I could get home every Thursday night.
“So I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I know I would want to know in your position.”
“Uh oh. This doesn’t sound good.”
“No, trust me, it is. Well, I think it is. I guess it’s up to you to decide what you think of it.”
“Niya, you’re kinda freaking me out here.”
“Winston wants to promote you.”
“He—what?” I blinked. “Wait, but—why?”
“Because you’re good at your job, silly. I’m not supposed to tell you this because the decision’s not made yet. But they’re looking to fill new manager positions at a few different offices—some in the US, some international—and you’re one of three people being considered for the New York job.”
“Holy shit. That’s awesome!” I smiled. A promotion meant more money. More money meant less time working at BHT overall. It meant freedom, sooner. But then a thought occurred to me. “Wait, they wouldn’t need me to be in the office, would they? Could I still work from home when I’m not traveling?”
“I don’t know.” Niya paused. “The manager position is a little different. You might not be doing as much traveling to start with. You’d have a team working for you, you know? I think it’s something you’d have to bring up at the interview.”
“Got it.” I mulled that over. If I could keep working from home even part of the time, this probably wouldn’t be a big deal for things with Brooklyn and me. But if they needed me in the office in New York Monday through Friday…I didn’t even want to think about how that would work. Or, well, wouldn’t work.
Why did this have to be happening now? Brooklyn was already going to have to move in January for whatever position he got. I’d wrapped my mind around that, figuring that wherever he ended up wouldn’t make a huge difference, since I’d still be gone half the time anyway. But if they needed me to be in the New York office, and Brooklyn ended up somewhere across the country?
Fuck. It upset me, and then it upset me that I was upset about it. Why the hell did I care so much? It wasn’t like what Brooklyn and I had was a real relationship.
But if I couldn’t manage to keep up my end of the bargain of seeing him every four days, the bet with Tanner went down the drain, and Brooklyn—and Human Nature—would be out the remaining fifty thousand dollars, which I knew they were counting on. I didn’t want to be responsible for that.
And I’d miss Brooklyn too. It wasn’t like we were together or anything, but the guy was still my friend. It was hard to live with someone three days out of the week and not get at least a little attached to them, but honestly, I liked Brooklyn.
He was fun to hang out with, he made me laugh, and, well, obviously there were other benefits too. We’d agreed that neither one of us was looking for anything more, but that didn’t mean I was eager for what we had to end.
“You don’t sound quite as excited about it anymore,” Niya said after a moment. “Are things more complicated in Georgia than I realized?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “A little.”
“You wanna talk about it?”
Another sigh. “Not really. Oh crap, I just realized something else.”
“What’s that?”
“If I get this promotion, we wouldn’t be working together anymore, would we? That sucks.”
“Yeah, but we’d finally be on the same level. And if I’m not your boss anymore, we could actually be friends.”
“Aww, Niya, you mean it? You wanna be friends? Share our Lunchables and everything?”
“Don’t be a dickwad, dude.” Niya laughed.
“Sorry, sorry.” I smiled. “Okay, well this is super awesome. I think. Kinda. Potentially. Maybe.”
Niya laughed. “Sounds like you still have some thinking to do. Luckily for you, there’s still time. I just wanted to tell you so that you knew. They’re really paying attention to your work now, so if things keep going well with Lund and McCormick, I have a strong suspicion they’re gonna pick you.”
“Roger that. And here I was thinking that if I kept doing well, I might get to visit their Paris office. Should’ve been dreaming bigger.”
“You know, that could still happen. BHT is thinking about a manager position there, too. If we end up with a team overseas, there could definitely be more chances for you to pop over.” She paused. “Don’t tell anyone I told you this, okay?”
“My lips are zipped.”
“Cool. And, not to be an asshole, but I did also want to ask you if you could send me your notes from the Wednesday briefing?”
“On it, boss.”
“Great, talk to you soon.”
I hung up, unsure of how to feel. On the one hand, this was the kind of big break I’d been waiting for. This was why I’d worked so hard on the mind-numbing documents and PowerPoints and Excel sheets since I’d started at BHT. Part of me was thrilled, and couldn’t wait to tell Brooklyn.
That thought in and of itself gave me pause for a moment. Was it weird, that my first reaction was to tell him? Was it crossing the friends-with-benefits line to be excited to tell him the news? Or was it just a normal thing you’d share with any old friend?
Well, it wasn’t like I wasn’t going to tell my other friends too. But it was normal, to want to tell the guy I was living with, right? Living with and hooking up with, I supposed. But the fact that we were hooking up didn’t mean I had to shut down all my normal friendship vibes towards him too, did it?
The more I thought about it, the more lost I got. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him at all. Especially since I didn’t know the promotion was mine, or what the terms of it would be. Maybe it would be simpler to just keep it to myself.
Just then, an announcement came on over the loudspeaker saying that my flight had been delayed. Frustration shot through me. I just wanted to get home—even if it still amazed me how fast that word had come to apply to Savannah. How right it felt to think of Savannah that way. Or maybe it wasn’t Savannah that felt like home. Maybe it was who was waiting for me there.
I pulled my phone out to text Brooklyn.
GABE: Flight delayed, be home late
And then, partly because I was still fired up about it, and partly because I was frustrated about the flight, I added:
GABE: Be ready to celebrate, though, when I get there. I have potentially awesome news
I waited a few seconds to see if he would respond right then. Brooklyn had made fun of me at first, for expecting immediate responses, rolling his eyes at ‘ how young ’ I was, with my phone always at hand, as though he didn’t use his all the time too.
But he knew it drove me crazy to have to sit around waiting for responses. I’d finally gotten him to agree to text me back as soon as he saw a message, even if it was just to say he was busy. So if I didn’t hear from him, I knew I could assume he just didn’t have his phone with him.
I sighed and set mine down as I opened my laptop up again. I’d hear from him soon, I was sure. He could be in the shower right now, or working on his dissertation, or even over on Summersea, at the school where he volunteered. Sometimes he went to see them on Thursdays as well as Fridays.
I pulled up the documents to send to Niya, running a quick eye over them for review before passing them on. I glanced down at my phone again. Still nothing.
I knew I should use the time to get ahead on some work for Lund and McCormick. If I wanted this promotion, now was the time to bust my ass for it. But suddenly, I couldn’t make myself focus.
My mind rebelled at the thought of voluntarily doing more work on the project right then. I laughed, remembering how frustrated Brooklyn had been when he’d come home last week from his meeting with Jeff, worried about his job application packet. Maybe I understood that feeling better than either of us realized.
Well, Brooklyn had eventually pushed through it, working through the weekend and getting his applications off. I would do the same. But maybe I didn’t have to get started just yet.
I glanced down at my phone again, thoughts of Brooklyn making me wonder where he was and what he was doing. He wouldn’t be avoiding texting me, would he? I couldn’t think of a reason for that. It hadn’t even been long enough for me to worry, really. Only twenty minutes. But still, there was this thread of doubt growing in my stomach.
What if somehow I’d crossed a line in my text? I hadn’t said anything crazy, had I? Nothing out of line. Right?
Right.
Right ?
Fuck, I was getting nowhere. There was no reason to even be thinking about him this much. But I couldn’t stop myself.
He was probably just busy. He’d been so stressed recently, trying to keep on top of his dissertation and applications and still somehow manage to coordinate Human Nature. From what I’d gathered, Jeff was more an ideas guy and not always great with the details. And they’d apparently relied on a single grant for almost all of their funding for years now. No way to run an organization, but then again, why would you expect two biologists to know anything about management?
On impulse, I pulled up Human Nature’s website. The site itself was a little out of date and despite their status as a 501c3, I couldn’t even find a way to donate money if I’d wanted to. They should have had a bright red button on the homepage. It was like they were going out of their way to miss out on funding.
And no wonder they were constantly running behind and stressed out. I clicked over to their About Us page to discover they didn’t have a single paid person on staff. If they were relying on harried professors and grad students to try to run an organization, and professors emerita to run their board, frankly, I was surprised they’d lasted this long.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d pulled up a blank document and begun tapping out notes as I went through the site with a fine-tooth comb. It felt good to be putting my management consulting skills to use on something I cared about, for once.
Before today, I would have been hard-pressed to even call them skills, since what I did felt so pointless most of the time. But one look at Human Nature’s website was all it took to make me realize the value of a lot of the classes I’d begrudgingly taken in business school.
My phone pinged and I turned to look at it, smiling when I finally saw a text from Brooklyn pop up on the screen. It was too small for me to read until I pulled it up close, but a rush of warmth flowed through my chest nonetheless. Was that a normal way to feel when your friend texted you?
I pushed the thought aside as I grabbed my phone. I’d told him to be prepared to celebrate, that I had good news. Now that I’d written up this business plan, I had twice the good news to tell him. So it was more than a little disconcerting when I read what his text said.
brOOKLYN: Does it have anything to do with this fucking Instagram account?
brOOKLYN: And if not, would you mind explaining what the hell that is, anyway?
What?
I honestly had no idea what to expect from the link he’d sent. All I knew was that, whatever it was, Brooklyn sounded pissed. I clicked on it with some hesitation and felt the strangest sensation of simultaneously falling from a great height and drowning when it loaded.
The profile was full of pictures of me and Brooklyn. The two of us at the store buying an air mattress. The two of us on that camping trip. The two of us eating macarons on the couch in the apartment.
My heart thumped. Every single one was a picture that I’d sent to Tanner. Was this why he’d wanted them? Was he trying to exploit our relationship for—honestly, I couldn’t even figure out what the gain would be, but that was the only thing that made sense…until I scrolled back up to the top and read the profile’s bio.
This is my brother and his husband, being generally adorable. Why does this account exist? Because the world sucks sometimes, and maybe what we need is a little more general adorableness.
My heart sank. It wasn’t Tanner at all. It was Aiden.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Aiden, what did you do?” I whispered to the hushed air of the lounge.
My entire life for the past month—mine and Brooklyn’s—was up online for the entire world to see. I’d never said Aiden couldn’t post the pictures, but fuck , why would that be a thing I should have to think to say?
My mind flashed back to Brooklyn’s question, when he’d seen me send Aiden the picture of the two of us with macarons. ‘Does he know what we’re doing?’
Something about Aiden knowing about us had bothered him, at least at first. I hadn’t pressed him to find out why. Now I wished I had. Because he clearly wasn’t okay with this either.
I felt horrible about betraying his trust, however unwittingly. And at the same time, I was bowled over. Because each picture had been liked thousands of times, and with comments from people all over the world. Strangers, people I would never know, who saw something in these pictures of me and Brooklyn, saying that the photos made them feel safe. Happy. Alive.
How was it possible that we had been affecting people without even knowing it?
This was a mess. I wanted Aiden to take the profile down immediately, and I also knew I’d feel sort of shitty if I made him. But more importantly, what the hell was I supposed to say to Brooklyn?
GABE: Brooklyn I have no idea. I’m just seeing this
GABE: I mean obviously Aiden put it up but I swear, I didn’t know
GABE: Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m calling him now
And then, a second later:
GABE: On a scale of 1 to 10 how mad are you right now? Not that you don’t have a right to be but, like, just so I know?
No answer. Goddammit, that wasn’t fair. I knew he’d be checking his phone. Was he just going to ignore me now? Or was not responding his way of answering my last question?
Dammit, and now my flight was delayed, and I wasn’t going to get to see Brooklyn for even longer, which would just give him more time to get pissed before I could explain. Not that I even knew how to explain it.
I sighed and dialed Aiden’s number. Maybe, at the very least, I could get some answers out of him.
“Hey bro, what’s up?”
The lack of concern in Aiden’s voice was jarring, given the mental turmoil I was feeling. But, of course, he had no idea why I was calling. Time to change that.
“You putting all my shit on Instagram, that’s what’s up. What the hell, man?”
I struggled to keep my voice low, not wanting to alert the other people in the lounge to my agitation. I already felt like a fraud half the time, thirty years younger than the average business traveler in here. I didn’t need to make myself stick out any more, but it was hard to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“Oh. That. You saw it, I guess?”
“Fucking right I saw it. Aiden, what the fuck? I don’t even know where to start. Why would you—I mean, how would you even—I mean, what were you thinking?”
“Okay, well before you get mad—”
“Too late for that.”
“—There’s a good explanation for this.”
“There’d better be.”
Aiden sighed. “Okay, well, now I feel like you’re not even willing to see it from my point of view but, basically, my life sucks right now and your life is awesome. You’re married to this hot guy, and yes, I know it’s not a real marriage, but you’re hooking up with him and you hang out with him all the time and you live with him and I just—the pictures you send just make me happy.”
“Aiden, I don’t care if they make you happy, that doesn’t mean you can just—”
“No, listen. I’m broke, dumped, broken-hearted, living with awful Craigslist roommates, getting absolutely nowhere with acting, and it’s just, I don’t know, sometimes it’s nice to just look at your life and pretend the pictures you send are real. That this is a real relationship that actually exists and is working for people. And I don’t know, I just thought that maybe those pictures might make other people happy too. So I got drunk one night and I put some of them online. Sue me. I thought, like, three people would comment on them and that would be that.”
“Well, your plan backfired.”
“Yeah. I know. But Gabe,” Aiden’s voice took on a pleading tone. “Gabe, have you seen the reaction this is getting? It took on a life of its own. People love it. You have no idea how many people send messages and ask me shit about you guys or just say how much they love you.”
“I still don’t understand how it got so big, though. Of all the profiles out there, how did this even get noticed?”
Aiden was quiet for a moment. “I, um. I might have sent it to someone who sent it to someone who knows Tyler Lang?”
“Who the hell is Tyler Lang?”
“Do you live under a rock? He was on TV for like, our entire childhoods. Criss-Cross Applesauce ?”
“Not ringing any bells. But why would a child-star knowing about the profile mean anything?”
“Oh my God, because he’s not a child anymore, he’s in his twenties, and he did this like, art-house gay porn thing recently—”
“Jesus Christ.”
“—And he came out, after that, obviously, and he actually isn’t even acting that much these days, but he promotes good causes and LGBTQ stuff, and the point is, he called you guys adorable online and linked to your profile, and I guess his followers found you, and it kind of exploded after that?”
“That’s—I don’t even know what to say about that. That must be how Brooklyn found out, though.” I groaned. “Aiden, he’s pissed. I don’t even know what to say to him when I get back to Savannah tonight.”
“That you’re reeeally sorry and you’ll make it up to him by letting him teach you next-level bisexual shit?”
“Dammit, could you be serious for once?”
“I am being serious. I’m sorry if he’s pissed off, but I just—Gabe, people like this. You’re making people happy.”
I sighed. That was the rub. Violation of trust though it might be, he wasn’t wrong. “I know.”
“If you know, then why are you so mad about it?”
“Because you didn’t ask, Aiden. Because you should have fucking asked. And because I shouldn’t have sent them to you in the first place. Or I should have told you not to put them on the internet. Ugh, I’m at least as mad at myself as I am at you right now, if that’s any consolation.”
“I guess I’ll take what I can get.” Aiden paused. “Do you want me to take it down?”
Did I? On the one hand, yes, absolutely. That would be the simplest way to smooth things over with Brooklyn, to get Aiden to take it down immediately.
And yet.
Some of what Aiden said was ringing uncomfortably true to me. I’d read some of those comments, seen how much people had liked those pictures. The picture of the two of us buying an air mattress—one of the first ones I’d sent to Aiden—had almost nine thousand likes and hundreds of comments. Hell, it even made me want to go look up who this Tyler Lang guy was, just to see what he’d said about us.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I have to talk to Brooklyn first.”
“I’m really sorry for fucking shit up for you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Really?”
“Well, no. But also, yes. You’re my brother, I’m not going to cut you out of my life or something. Just promise me you’ll ask about shit like this in the future? Before you go and do anything that makes me and my friend—”
“Your husband.”
“—famous?”
“Yeah. I promise. Let me know what Brooklyn says, okay?”
“Will do. Talk soon.”
“Bye.”
One way or another, I’d let Aiden know how the talk went, because I’d have to let him know what to do with the stupid profile. But I couldn’t do that until I’d actually talked to Brooklyn. Which was something I really wasn’t looking forward to.
And when I pulled the phone away from my ear, the worry in my stomach only grew. Brooklyn had finally texted back, answering my question.
brOOKLYN: Just get home
There was that word again. Home . But suddenly, it wasn’t so comforting anymore.