52. Failed Stealth Check
Chapter fifty-two
Failed Stealth Check
Cameron
The internet figures us out on a Tuesday.
Which feels rude.
I don't know why I expected something more dramatic. A Friday-night scandal, maybe. Something with cocktails and bad decisions and Dex accidentally kissing someone on camera.
Instead, I'm sitting at the kitchen island at a little after four, finishing an email campaign for a client who sells artisanal dog treats, when my phone vibrates against the counter.
Then again.
Then three times in rapid succession.
Griffin looks up from where he's unloading the dishwasher.
“Good phone explosion or bad phone explosion?”
“I don't know yet.”
The messages are from Dex.
Dex
before you panic
open this
There's a link underneath.
I look at Griffin.
“Dex started with before you panic.”
Griffin shuts the dishwasher. “Bad phone explosion.”
“Almost certainly.”
I tap the link.
It opens to Front Range Frequency, one of the local music pages I've seen Dex tagged on before.
They cover shows, new releases, interviews, venue news—the sort of site big enough that most people in the Denver music scene know it, but small enough that the same four people seem to appear in half the comment sections.
The headline reads:
FROM GRAVE INTENTIONS TO SIGNAL SAINTS: WHO IS DEX MERCER?
“Oh, fuck.”
Griffin comes around the island.
The article isn't mean.
That's almost worse.
It starts with this morning's release of a short Signal Saints behind-the-scenes documentary promoting their upcoming collaboration. Dex is in several minutes of it because, shockingly, a camera pointed at Dex does not result in Dex becoming less noticeable.
There's a link to the documentary.
Another to the single that dropped last week.
Then a video embedded halfway down the article.
Austin playing an acoustic guitar at Micah and Dex's wedding.
The caption underneath says:
Fletcher surprised guests at Mercer's March wedding to Denver tattoo artist Micah Vale.
Then comes the paragraph that makes my stomach drop.
Fans familiar with Grave Intentions quickly recognized Mercer, but the wedding footage has also revived questions about a group of people frequently photographed with both newlyweds over the past two years.
“Oh,” Griffin says.
“Yeah.”
Under that is a link.
I don't tap it immediately.
Instead, I open Instagram and search Dex's name.
Not because I'm a masochist.
Because this is literally part of what I do for a living.
If something is spreading online, randomly scrolling your own feed is how you see whatever an algorithm thinks will upset you most. Searching the terms, checking recent posts, tracing tags, and looking at who is reposting what tells you what is actually happening.
Dex Mercer.
Grave Intentions.
Micah Vale.
Austin Fletcher wedding.
Within five minutes, I can see the path.
The documentary drops.
Someone recognizes Dex from Grave Intentions.
Someone else reposts Austin performing at the wedding.
Another person realizes Dex is one of the guys in old Halloween photos.
And then people start digging.
I find the photos they're talking about.
Not last Halloween.
The one before that.
Our D&D costumes.
Me dressed as a cleric with enough cleavage to make religious doctrine questionable.
Micah in dark rogue gear, looking like he might steal your wallet and make you thank him for it.
Griffin as a paladin.
Dex as the world's least subtle bard.
Ronan in black leather and eyeliner because apparently “Dungeon Daddy” became an actual costume concept and we all collectively allowed it.
There are group pictures.
Candid ones.
A few where I am tucked against Griffin while Dex has an arm around me.
Others where Micah and Dex are very obviously not maintaining platonic personal space.
One where Ronan's hand is at my lower back while I'm looking up at him in a way that, in retrospect, was not exactly discreet.
The comments underneath the newer repost are mostly amused.
WAIT. Are the cleric and the paladin married?
Someone replies:
yeah I think so
Another:
but bard literally just married rogue guy
Then:
pretty sure cleric is dating both of them too??
And:
what's going on with leather guy because respectfully... hello
I snort.
Griffin reads that one over my shoulder. “People are calling him ‘leather guy?’”
“They don't know his name yet.”
“Good.”
I search Reddit next.
There is, because humanity is doomed, already a thread in a Denver music subreddit.
Grave Intentions frontman apparently in a polycule?
I open it.
Most of the comments aren't even judgmental.
They're just incredibly nosy.
I saw them at Halloween like two years ago and assumed something was up.
Honestly good for them.
Tattoo guy married musician guy, brunette is married to firefighter guy, and I think they're all together somehow?
Where does glasses guy fit?
Someone responds:
Maybe he just lives there.
I laugh. “Oh, Ronan is going to love being demoted to roommate.”
Griffin groans. “Don't encourage Dex.”
My phone buzzes again.
Dex
did you go down the rabbit hole?
Cami
Yes
Unlike you, I know how to conduct social media research without just scrolling until I develop anxiety.
Dex
that's why i outsource professionalism to you
I send him a screenshot of the Reddit thread.
Dex
OH MY GOD THEY FOUND HALLOWEEN
Cami
Yes
Dex
we looked hot though
Cami
That is not the point.
Dex
it is A point
Micah and I are at the shop
I talked to Ronan - he's getting off work in like twenty minutes anyway and said he'll come straight home
are we doing a family summit
I look at Griffin.
He reads the screen. “Yeah.”
Cami
Come home
Ronan calls it a discussion.
Dex calls it a press conference.
Griffin reminds him there is no press in our dining room.
Dex says that makes it invite-only.
Micah steals half my sandwich while this happens.
Normal.
We're all around the table by five-thirty. Ronan arrived first and changed out of his work clothes. Dex and Micah came in together ten minutes later, Dex talking before the front door fully closed.
Ronan has a notebook.
Dex notices immediately. “No.”
Ronan looks up. “No what?”
“No notebook.”
“I haven't said anything.”
“You brought meeting supplies.”
“I always have a notebook.”
“You don't need minutes for my accidental micro-celebrity polyamory crisis.”
“It isn't a crisis,” I say.
Dex points at me. “Thank you.”
Ronan calmly opens the notebook. “Then we should be able to discuss it without panicking.”
Dex looks personally betrayed.
Micah rests a hand on his thigh.
“Let him talk.”
“This marriage has changed you.”
“We've been married for four days.”
“And already the romance is dead.”
Micah kisses him.
Dex shuts up.
Effective.
Ronan waits until they're done.
“This isn't actually a new problem,” he says.
The room settles.
“The Halloween pictures came up the Halloween before last. We knew then that Dex having any public profile made complete privacy unrealistic.”
I remember.
A coworker had found the tagged pictures.
Micah's cousin had seen them.
Griffin’s sister had seen them.
Ronan had told us that eventually subtle wouldn't be subtle anymore.
We just weren't there yet.
Apparently, yet is Tuesday.
“What changed,” Ronan continues, “is that people now have enough disconnected information to start assembling it themselves. Dex's music work increased his visibility. The wedding gave them Micah. The old photos gave them the rest of us.”
Griffin leans back in his chair. “So what's the choice?”
“We do nothing,” Ronan says. “Dex confirms his marriage and leaves everything else unanswered. Or we confirm the basic structure ourselves.”
Dex shifts beside Micah.
“I can pull back.”
Every person at the table looks at him.
He lifts his hands.
“I'm saying I can. The Signal Saints thing hasn't even fully released yet. I don't have to do more of the video stuff. If Austin asks me to guest somewhere or do another behind-the-scenes thing, I can say no. Grave Intentions is enough.”
“No,” Micah says immediately.
Dex looks at him.
Griffin shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
Ronan's voice is quieter, but just as firm. “Your career is not the variable we adjust.”
I lean forward.
“You do not get to make yourself smaller because people noticed the rest of us exist.”
Dex's expression changes just enough to hurt.
Because he meant it.
Not dramatically.
He would actually do it.
He would step backward if he thought it kept the rest of us from being uncomfortable.
Micah's hand closes around his wrist.
“You don't have to lose something to keep us,” he says.
Dex looks at him for a long second.
Then nods.
“Okay.”
Ronan lets the silence sit before continuing.
“My concern isn't people knowing we're polyamorous.”
“That sounds almost progressive of you,” Dex says.
Ronan gives him a look.
“My concern is people deciding that knowing one piece of information entitles them to the rest.”
There he is.
I smile.
Ronan folds his hands over the notebook.
“If we confirm the relationship structure, that's the information we've consented to make public. It doesn't imply consent to share anything about our sexual relationships, kink, power dynamics, medical information, work schedules, home address, finances, or any other private detail.”
Griffin nods. “What happens in this house stays in this house.”
“Within whatever exceptions each person chooses,” Ronan clarifies. “But if someone hasn't explicitly agreed that something can be shared, the default is that it can't.”
That settles easily.
Nobody argues.
And yet something still feels wrong.
I look at the article again.
Then the Halloween pictures.
Then our wedding photo from four days ago.
All five of us together.
Micah and Dex in the middle.
Griffin beside them.
Ronan on the other side.
Me in front because apparently being five-three makes me decorative foreground.
Everyone touching someone.
Everyone happy.
I realize what's bothering me.
“Why are we talking like the problem is that they figured it out?”
Ronan's attention shifts to me.