Page 124 of Ambiguous
Sam
Iwalk around a different floor of the same Century City building I worked in for years.
The construction padding has moved on to another elevator by now, but this floor is put together and gleaming—though, on the whole, this firm feels more like a place where people work than one designed to impress clients.
“And this is your office,” Shelby says.
Shelby is the receptionist at Weston & Ramirez. He’s a chatty, slim, twinkish kid.
The office is small but functional, with a desk, a laptop computer and docking station, a credenza, an empty bookcase, and a few chairs.
It’ll do. It will totally do.
Lighthouse dropped any talk of an ethics complaint against me when Jules’s indie album took off. I expect they decided the PR would’ve been too negative if they were seen to be attacking his partner—especially since their opinion of his album was so dramatically overruled by the public.
And, to my and Jules’s surprise and relief, Colin Hill pulled out of the book deal and went back to college to study business. While that didn’t fix everything between him and Jules, it helped. They’re still not speaking, but maybe they’ll get there eventually.
“If you need any office supplies, I can show you where to get them, or you can just ask me.” Shelby claps his hands. “Let me show you the rest of the place, and then I’ll leave you to get settled.”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
He points out the names of the partners on the ream of letterhead waiting on my desk. “Everyone here is either LGBT+ or an ally.”
We walk down a hallway on the side of the building with the nicer views. “August Ramirez has his office here,” he gestures, “and Noah Weston is here.” He grins. “They founded the firm and have been best friends—and no more than friends—since they were kids. There’s an office pool on how much longer it will take them to get together.” He claps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. But really, everyone sees it but them. My god, when will they just kiss?”
“Odds are never,” a tall man in a suit says.
“This is Danny Villaseñor,” Shelby says. “He’s one of our litigators.”
Danny and I shake hands. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sam Stone. I do transactional work.”
“Welcome.” Danny’s super handsome, with a look about him that’s more Miami clubster than LA cool. “You’re the one dating Julian Hill, right?”
“He’s my boyfriend, yes.”
“Cool. Invite him to happy hour.”
“That’s a thing we do,” Shelby says. “Every Friday at 4:30, we close up and go into the break room with beer and wine… or, if you don’t drink, there’s soda and water and snacks. August and Noah think it’s good for firm morale. It’s not required, but they’re a lot of fun.”
I hook my fingers in my belt loops. “I look forward to it.”
The vibe at this place is a million times better than my old firm. I can’t wait to get started. After giving me the tour, Shelby drops me back at my office, where I’m visited by partner after partner until I finally am left alone to settle in.
I think I’m gonna like it here.
CHAPTER48
Sam
My man stands on stage, cradling the microphone, his husky, rich voice magnificent. It’s modulated and expansive, precise and messy in turn, full of emotion yet clear on the lyrics.
The crowd is hushed, listening attentively. We’re at an outside amphitheater, and the stars twinkle overhead, looking magical.
And Jules is singing a song he wrote for me.
I can’t help the tears that stream down my face. Fuck toxic masculinity. I’m moved.
My boyfriend—my life partner—my other half is telling the world that he loves me.
