Uncompelling.
Not together.
No kissing.
No fucking.
No holding hands or making love or waking up tangled in bed and smiling about who’s cooking breakfast.
I wait for Jack to add in,I’m straight, Charlie, with one of his bright, genuine smiles. But when he stays quiet, shock slowly ices my veins.
I’m frozen.
Wondering why Jack isn’t piling onto my declaration.
He hangs his head slightly, and as he begins to look at me, my anticipation catapults. His eyes are almost on mine.
Almost.
And then a duck splashes in the river, diverting our attention behind our shoulders. As our eyes are about to come back to each other, Charlie begins speaking.
Guess what? I suddenly hate ducks.
“Still, I need this show to happen,” Charlie says, not telling us the main reason why, the one that has nothing to do with me. “We’re still set with filming then?”
“I’m fine with it, if Oscar is,” Jack says, glancing to me.
Now I have to be around Jack knowing Charlie is trying to set me up with him. As if this couldn’t get any messier.
But I think about what this show means to Highland again. What it could do for his aspirations, his career, his life.
I’m not that big of an asshole.
“I’m alright with it,” I say.
Charlie exhales a short breath, then tilts his head to me. “If I crossed a line today…”
“You cross them every day, Charlie,” I say with no anger. What I’ve learned in my thirty-two years, there are some fights not worth stewing over. Tomorrow is another day.
His lip rises with a nod of agreement, and he sticks his cigarette in his mouth. “L’enfer est vide et tous les diables sont ici.”Hell is empty and all the devils are here. I recognize the Shakespeare quote.The Tempest.
His gaze does soften. “I am fine, Oscar.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I’ve heard it a million-and-one times. But nothing really changes. As long as I’m protecting Charlie, there’s going to be a large part of me that has to protect him from himself. He’s not the only self-destructive client, but he’s the one who runs the most laps around the world.
12
JACK HIGHLAND
Two weeks have passedsince Paris, and I’m still reeling from the whirlwind of events that happened over the course of two days. From the meeting in my Philly apartment to the New York concert venue to racing around Paris. It should be a blur by now, but it’s too vivid.
Every frame, every shot that I took with my eyes of Oscar Oliveira, I remember. Like that experience alongside him will be a gold standard for all the others in my life. And I’m not even sure it’swhatI did but just the company I held.
After we got back to Charlie’s apartment from Le Chat Rouge, we grabbed our things and left for the airport. We clocked in less than 24-hours in France—and that’s normal for Charlie…and Oscar.
How in the fuck is this TV show going to work, dude?I’ve been asking myself that for two weeks and tossing and turning every night trying to figure out logistics.
