Page 50 of Ambiguous
Loren shakes their head, smiling. “That attorney. You like him.”
No sense in hiding it. “I do.” As I pluck a tune, I think about Sam’s bow tie, and my cheeks heat up. Not much need for secrets between me and Loren, is there? They’re at least a couple of decades older than me but have always treated me as an equal, and I trust their judgment. While I pay them handsomely, I get the feeling they aren’t my manager primarily for the money but because they want to see me do well. That’s why I admit, “When I’m done with the record, I want to see if we can…”
“Be more?”
“Yeah.”
“Afterthe record,” they confirm. “I don’t think you should go rubbing your body parts against a lawyer who’s threatening to sue you.”
I roll my eyes and strum a chord. “He said the same thing. And he’s not going to sue me.”
Loren leans forward. “How do you know?”
“Because I’m going to get the album done. Then we’ll be free to do as we please.”
They harrumph. “So let’s say you get the album done—”
“WhenI get the album done—”
“Yes, I believe you and I believeinyou.Whenit’s done, if you spend any significant amount of time with him, someone will notice, and the press will start discussing your sexuality even more than they already do.”
I can’t say I haven’t had the same concern. But I keep pushing it aside, because…Sam. Loren is a worrywart, I tell myself. “The press won’t find out. Sam can keep a secret.”I think. Something dawns on me as I study Loren. “But you’d like me to be out.”
Loren and I have never talked about their opinion of my insistence on sexual privacy.
They shrug and, after a moment, nod. “You live your life, I live mine. I understand why you make the decisions you do. But it would mean a great deal to me—and a lot of other people—if you were more open about who you really are. I mean, you’re vocally supportive of queer rights, there are plenty of rainbow flags at your concerts, and you donate generously to charities—and that’s great. But I feel like you’re doing it for me, not for yourself. And Jules, news flash: You’re not straight.”
I laugh to hide my flinch. “Never said I was.”
“But you never publicly acknowledge it, either. I’m not telling you what to do,” they add hastily. “It’s your decision. I just kind of wish you would, as much as I hate to put pressure on you about the one thing you detest talking about. I know you’re in a different position than most.”
“You’re the one who’s usually telling me I do too much for the fans.”
“In general, I don’t think you should give as much of yourself as you do. But in this regard, I’d like to see you be a leader. You could inspire people even more than you already do.”
I set down my guitar and study Loren’s face. No trace of wrinkles; smooth skin and full lips. Eyes that have seen a lot. “You never said anything before,” I mutter.
“Because it’s none of my business.”
“But now I feel like a wanker, thinking of every time you stopped someone from asking me questions about my sexuality when you wished I’d just answer and put them out of their misery—even if I didn’t have a good answer. Thank you for doing your job and protecting me, even when you don’t like it.”
“I wouldn’t say I don’t like it. I respect your desire for privacy, and my opinion isn’t relevant to your music. But your sexuality always comes up. It will only get worse if you start seeing your lawyer. Things will come to a head, and everyone will have a label for you.”
“They already do.”
They shrug in acknowledgment.
“I try to say I don’t care about the speculation, but I do. I just want to be who I am and not to have to define myself for the press. Still, something about Sam…” Something about Sam is making me consider changing the way I present myself in public. Being more open couldn’t hurt, could it? I think about the impact I might have on fans without even realizing it.
Loren isn’t done, though. “Setting aside the fans and the press, I worry. Do you know anything about him? Sam.”
I scowl, pursing my lips. “I know what he’s told me. We talked when I got stuck in the lift with him. And a few other times.”
Loren raises their eyebrows. “Have you even bothered to look him up? Basic due diligence?”
I blink at Loren, then sigh. I usually ignore the internet, because I don’t want to be tempted to look up rubbish about myself. I barely manage my own social media. “I suppose you’re right. Have you?”
“Actually, no. I wanted to give you some privacy.”
