Page 116 of Mr. Picture Perfect
“Ain’t it?” teased Anthony right back. “We’re goin’ up on that stage, and if we play it right and get high bids, we win the game. It is a fuckin’team effort, boy!” He shoved into my side like a football player psyching up his teammate. “And after it’s all said and done, you guys will have all the time in the world to figure out whatever the hell’s goin’ on between y’all.”
“I just wish I knew why he left like that, without a word, like a ninja in the night.”
“I dunno. Maybe he was just giving you the space to be in the zone. He gave it thought, couldn’t sleep, and finally decided he didn’t want to be a distraction for you. Hey, all I know is, the way you two were actin’ with each other at that ranch photo shoot, then how you were in your backyard with …” He let out a choked sigh. “… with that perfect adorable dog of yours, there’s no way in hell that boy doesn’t care about you. An alien from Mars could tell. Justsleepon it,” Anthony urged me as he brought his face closer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Enjoy thishouse. Eat thefuckout of whatever snack Dean is cookin’ up. Live itup, because in another day, all this goes away, and we go back to bein’ losers.” He pushed off of the couch and extended a hand. “Get off your ass, Cole, and stop feelin’ sorry for yourself. It ain’t sexy.”
I sighed, figuring he was right. It did me no good to continue worrying about it. Maybe something I said had triggered Noah. My impassioned speech about letting go of fear might’ve accidentally put him right back on that high school stage in his mind, trapping him in a nightmare of permanent fear, until this event is finally over with. It very well could be a prolonged panic attack he didn’t want me to see.
Despite all of my overwhelming doubts, I clung to that bland and frustratingly insufficient conclusion with all my might, then accepted Anthony’s hand and rose from the couch.
I looked him in the eye with a sudden thought. “You know, if you ever wanted to just drop by my house to give Porridge a little lovin’, I know she’d like it a lot. She seemed to really enjoy you.”
Anthony gave me the strangest look right then. “You think I’m gonna drive my ass over to your house just to pet a dog?” He scoffed at me. “What kind of weirdo do you think I am?”
But as we headed to the kitchen to join Dean and TJ, I caught the giddy smile that spilled over his face and knew I had said just the right thing.
And a few hours later before I fell asleep in a room full of vivid rainbow colors swirling out from that nightlight like dreamscapes, I told myself out loud: “I’m giving you space for now, Noah, but I promise you, once this thing is over with, I’m coming for you, and I won’t let you go until you’re mine.”
Those words still ring in my ears.
Even now.
Six minutes before the curtain-that-doesn’t-exist rises.
“Cole?”
I turn to find Tamika dressed all in black with a headset on and a clipboard in her hand.
I’m at once reminded that our dear pageant event has already experienced a handful of unexpected setbacks. One of which being the former stage manager—Malcolm himself—waking up glued to the toilet and “reprehensibly ill” this morning. The last I heard, Samuel is caring for him and shared his professional opinion (to a distressed Nadine) that there is “no way in Malckemy Hell” he can possibly fulfill his duties as stage manager tonight. He has been put on strict bed rest until he feels better—Samuel’s order. Poor Malcolm is likely run down from all of the sunrise-to-sunset work he’s been put through this whole past month straight without end.
That meant handing the job of running the show to the ready and perfectly capable Tamika, who was familiar with the order of events inside and out, knew every cue, and had lots of experience as an assistant director and stage manager from her high school theatre days. She wasn’t the least bit nervous or overwhelmed at the idea of taking over for Malcolm. In fact, she’s on top of it.
But right now, she’s on top of me. “Tamika, hey,” I greet her distractedly back. “Sorry. Are we at five minutes ‘til?”
She blinks. “Cole, we were at five minutes, five minutes ago. It’s time to start the show. Frankie’s about to introduce you guys. Are you ready to join Anthony and Dean in the wing?”
I shit my lungs straight out of my ass and have to shove them right back in to say: “Y-Yes, I’m ready, totally ready.”
“Alright. You’ve got this.” Tamika gives me a wink, pats me on my arm, then guides me over to the left wing of the stage, where I am met by a surprisingly calm Dean and a toe-tapping Anthony.
I don’t even have the space to take a breath before at once, music bursts from the speakers above us, the crowd explodes into a literallyboomingeruption of cheers and screams, and the young and handsome emcee Frankie Lopez, who also did theatre with Tamika back in high school and was cast in nearly every leading role, marches onto the stage with the microphone. “Good evening, good evening!Dios mío,we have got ourselves alivelyandamazingcrowd tonight! Look at your beautiful faces! Welcome, welcome! Oh, what an amazing night we’re about to have together!”
Anthony grabs hold of my hand suddenly.
I turn to him. “Anthony?”
“I can’t do this,” he hisses, his eyes reflecting sheer terror as he stares at the stage. His hand quivers uncontrollably within mine.
My own issues are forgotten in an instant. “Hey, relax. Think about the outcome, alright? By the end of this, you’ll have tons of women vying for your heart. Won’t be able to bat them away.”
“I don’t want those women,” he says, and even his voice is shaking as badly as his hand. “I just want to be with you guys. I want us to be at that mansion kickin’ back and doin’ none of this shit. I want—I want—” He’s nearly in tears. “I want to leave.”
I let go of his hand and grab his shoulders, facing him to me. “We’re all in this together, remember? We’re a team. You, me, and Dean, a power team. I’ve got your back. Dean’s got it, too. There’s nothing to worry about, alright?”
Frankie says something else, and the crowd screams with joy, the applause so loud, the very stage beneath our feet seems to tremble. It does not help my case.
Anthony’s eyes grow double as he looks at me. “Cole …”
Frankie spreads an arm. “Are you ready to meet your special men? Yes? Is that ahellyes? Alright! Let’s bring them out here!”
