Chapter 21
The party backstage at Madison Square Garden moves to their hotel: the famous Chelsea Hotel.
Walking into a piece of history right here, Ray thinks, as he, Gene, Carol, and the rest of the Brooms squish themselves into the elevator.
Unlike the Holiday Inns the Brooms were used to staying at before, the bar and hangout isn’t on the ground floor—no, the party is up on the roof.
It’s a bit chilly while still being April, but how could they pass up the opportunity to hang at such a groovy location?
Once at the top of the twelve-story building, Ray stares at his surroundings in awe.
Plants upon plants, vines upon vines, leaves and greenery are scattered everywhere around, hanging off of every wall and table.
He can barely find a place to sit, as every chair is occupied by either a person or a plant.
Well, I guess it doesn’t hurt to stand. The green looks beautiful in the dark, illuminated by the moonlight, yet also by the streetlights and strings of white Christmas lights hanging all around.
It feels strange to be on a roof so high up, too, with ridiculously tall skyscrapers scattered in every direction.
“I can’t believe we’re really here at the Chelsea Hotel,” Ray says, turning his head to Gene.
“The Chelsea Hotel? Is that where we’re at?” Gene asks before taking a drag from his cigarette. “What’s so special about it?”
“Wh-what do you mean, ‘what’s so special about it’?” Ray is flabbergasted.
“You seriously don’t know about the Chelsea Hotel?” Santiago says, waving his hand. “This is the place where Janis Joplin used to live. Same with Leonard Cohen. Bob Dylan, man. Bob fuckin’ Dylan!”
“Woah really?” Gene’s jaw drops. “No, I actually had no idea. I like those cats but, it’s not like I knew where they’d lived…”
“Not to mention how Andy Warhol and Robert Mapplethorpe stayed here too,” Maurice says, stepping into their circle. “Those guys are some of my biggest inspirations. Especially Warhol. To imagine, actually being here where they once were…”
“Warhol’s still living here in New York, ain’t he?” Santi says. “The Stones were even all with him not too long ago, I think. Maybe they’re still there.”
“Wait, you’re right.” Maurice snaps his fingers. “Fuck, but we only have one more night here after tonight before we move on, don’t we? Does anyone know anybody who could get me in contact with Warhol that quickly?”
“Your best luck is to probably try Dennis,” Ray says. “Though, I don’t know how far his connections run. He knows a lot of people in Detroit, but I don’t know about here…”
“Worth a shot though, right?” Gene shrugs.
“Oh my god, I just realized something,” Santi says. “You know what Maurice, Warhol, and Mapplethorpe all have in common?”
“They’re all photographers?” Carol asks.
“We’re all gay,” Maurice says with a smile, then he takes a drag from his cigarette. “Ain’t that funny? All gay photographers. Even before I knew I was gay, I was drawn to their work. I wonder why…” he chuckles.
Ray laughs at that, and he notices Gene does too, and somehow, as if sharing the same thought, they look at each other.
It was not even an hour ago that they’d shared a kiss in the dressing room.
Gene actually fucking kissed me. It’s an understatement to say that Ray absolutely loved it.
Just thinking about it again stirs up a pleasant flutter in his chest. He’d imagined time and time again how it would feel, to have his lips against Gene’s, the press of his stubble against his cheek, his tongue in his mouth—yet nothing beats the real thing.
Gene, his best friend, kissing him just like in his fantasies.
It took him completely by surprise, but he was glad it happened. To experience it, at least once.
Because that’s all it ever could be. Just a one-time experience.
He and Gene aren’t like Maurice—they’re not fully gay.
Ray may feel attraction toward Gene, but he still likes women, too.
With how their lives are becoming more and more prominent in the public eye, he can only ever express his desire for women openly.
It’d be the death of their careers otherwise—if the two founding members of the Dusty Brooms were exposed as queers, but also the scandal of them being involved with each other.
Yes, Maurice is gay, and he’s living life fine. But Maurice isn’t the lead singer of a blues-rock band whose most recent single is number-fucking-two in the US charts. Who is Ray kidding? A relationship other than friendship would never work with Gene, even if he wanted it to.
“Hang on,” Santiago gasps, halfway covering his mouth. “With you guys being gay, you aren’t so eager to see Andy Warhol because you… you… you want to have an affair with him, do you?”
“What the hell? No fucking way!” Maurice sounds offended. “You should all know by now that the only one for me is Kenneth. I would never cheat on him. Ever. Absolutely no fucking way.”
“Chill out, man. I was just joking!” Santi throws both his hands up.
“Well, I don’t wanna joke about that.” Maurice huffs. “You’re fine, though. I won’t hold it against you.”
“Pssh, well thanks.” Santi chuckles.
Carol glances at Ray. His heart rate ramps up, and a cold sweat runs down the back of his neck.
That’s another thing he has to think about.
Could the kiss between him and Gene be considered cheating?
It felt so right at the time, Ray didn’t want to stop—but it can’t mean more than it was.
It’s not really ‘cheating’ if it was just a couple of guys fooling around, right?
Just got a little carried away. Just Gene being high and drunk.
Nothing more than that. It can’t be more than that.
Carol is Ray’s girlfriend. He wants to stay true to her. He can’t fuck up again like he did with Harriet. He adores Carol; she’s such a funny, sweet, beautiful person with great ambitions who deserves a loyal partner…
So why the hell am I so eager to kiss Gene again?
He looks at Gene once more, who still smiles at him.
Oh, does that smile do wonderful things to his insides.
He doesn’t want the fact they kissed to make things awkward between them as friends, and he’s glad that Gene seems to be taking it all fine.
But Ray can’t shake the nagging feeling when he turns his head back to Carol.
She reaches for his arm, pulling him closer.
She can’t possibly know what’s happened, can she?
He shakes his head.
No, I’m just being paranoid.
“You wanna go get a drink with me?” Carol asks him.
“Ah, sure.” Ray smiles. “Though we shouldn’t drink too much.
Don’t want a hangover for your big break tomorrow.
” Through Dennis’ contact from Detroit, Carol landed a high-profile modeling gig here in New York, and Dennis even made sure the tour dates lined up perfectly so she could make it.
If all goes well, Dennis’ contact—Tim, Ray believes his name is—wants to work further with Carol as her official agent.
“I get it, but I’ll be fine.” Carol shrugs. “Come on, this is New York City! Let’s have some fun.”
She grabs Ray’s hand, tugging him away from the rest of the group and towards the long, makeshift bar table covered in vines.
“Alright, Alright!” he laughs. Though he looks behind himself, back at who he’s leaving behind: Gene.
Gene gives him a sheepish smile, paired with a shrug. “You guys have fun.”
“You too, man,” Ray says, smiling back at him. “I’ll catch you later in the room.”
“Alright.”
And just like that, Gene continues conversing with the others, and Ray is whisked away to another eventful night with his girlfriend.
After a great night of hanging with friends and getting high—not only in the mental sense, but the literal, physical sense of being high up on the rooftop of the Chelsea Hotel—Gene returns to the room on the seventh floor he shares with Ray and Carol.
Santiago has been rooming with Stefan this tour, so it’s just the three of them.
Ray and Carol had retired to the room beforehand, so Gene’s not surprised to see them lying on one of the beds together when he walks in (though thankfully, they’re clothed and all they’re doing is watching the television).
As much as he doesn’t like seeing Ray in bed with a lady, he’s gotten used to it for the most part over the years. He’ll be fine.
“Hey,” Gene says, shutting the door behind himself and kicking off his boots. Streetlights shine in the dark through the tall, slim windows, like portraits of the city around them.
“Hey Gene,” Ray says, sitting up and greeting him with a small wave. “You have fun up there?”
“Yeah, the guys were a blast.” Gene smiles. “But it would’ve been nice if you’d stuck around, too.”
“Ah, well…”
“We still have one more day here,” Carol says. “You guys can go do whatever while I’m at my modeling gig tomorrow. So it shouldn’t matter. I can spend time alone with my boyfriend if I want to. You basically have him all other times of day, anyway.”
Those words hit Gene in the chest, striking him hard. He doesn’t quite know how to counter that without sounding offensive—his mind all jumbled from the whiskey he’d drunk—but thankfully, Ray chimes in.
“Hey babe, we don’t need to make this a competition about who gets who when. Gene just made a comment, that’s all.”
Carol huffs, blowing her bangs away from her face. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Gene says. “Um… I think I’m just gonna take a shower now. Then maybe after, I’ll crash. I won’t bother you guys.”
“Sounds good,” Ray says. “And you’re never a bother, Gene.”
Maybe not to Ray, but Gene can tell Carol thinks otherwise, with how her full lips form an exaggerated pout.
Ah well. Pout all you want. Ray’s still my best friend. He was mine first.
He looks at Ray, who’s giving him the handsomest of smiles.
Mine.