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“That you’d be open to something…” said Reece. “Discreet, mutually beneficial.” His fingers began to inch along the waistline of Patrick’s pants again. Patrick squirmed away, opening the stall door.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There has been a pretty major misunderstanding.”
“Oh. Oh.” Reece’s eyes widened in alarm. “I…shit…”
Again, so like looking in the mirror. The rage Patrick felt building toward Simone was tempered by a deep sadness.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone.”
He tucked his shirt in, took a deep breath, and unlocked the door to the bathroom, heading out into the ballroom just in time to hear the silver-haired exec onstage reach the climax of his address.
“Nothing says ‘Gay rights!’ like doing poppers with a drag queen,” he laughed. “Which is why I am thrilled to announce that this year’s LGBTQIA VIP Ally of the Year, in association with Hulu and Absolut Vodka, is Captain Kismet himself, Patrick Lake!”
Chapter 33
“You look good as a blonde,” Jordan remarked as Will straightened his wig in the bedroom mirror. “It doesn’t wash you out at all.”
“Thanks, doll,” said Will, keeping his voice purposely monotonous because the only thing Jordan liked more than a backhanded compliment was a reaction. “Whatever did I do all those weeks without you?”
“Ignore him,” said April from her perch on the bed. “It’s fierce. Sarah Michelle Gellar found shaking.”
“I’m the one who’s shaking,” said Will. “Look at these hands. It’s taken me twice as long to do my makeup.”
“Have you decided on a number yet?” Jordan asked.
Will shook his head. He had been so emboldened by their victory on Centenary Square and his reunion with Jordan that he’d decided to keep moving forward, to—in Jordan’s words—“get over himself” and sign up to sing live that Sunday night at the Village. As much as it still stung, he was learning that there was a strength to be found in vulnerability, in letting yourself be known. He had Patrick to thank for that, at least. He had finally found his voice.
“Not yet,” he said. “I’ve been listening to so much Taylor Swift and Joni Mitchell, I’m amazed the Spotify algorithm hasn’t arranged for someone to come over and do a welfare check.”
“Don’t worry,” April told Jordan. “I blocked all of Patrick’s social media on Will’s phone so he can’t obsessively scroll while crying to ‘Both Sides Now.’ ”
“That would have been my first move, too,” said Jordan. “Well done. But what about the pictures in his camera roll?”
April winced. “He technically wasn’t allowed to take any,” she whispered. “It was part of that NDA.”
“Fucking hell.” Jordan whistled.
“It’s even more pathetic than that,” said Will, reminding them he was still in the room and had heard every word. “I keep going through receipts on my phone. The taxi rides. That stupid scooter hire. The routes we took. Just to remind myself that it was real, that it happened.”
“Oh, babe.” April sighed.
“Even more proof that Patrick Lake is a waste of a haircut,” said Jordan. “If he kept you as his dirty little secret, he should have at least made it worth your while with gifts. Something expensive and sparkly that you could sell for a boatload of cash to pay for a trip to Mykonos.”
“Huh. You’re right. He’s rich.” Will tutted at himself. “I kept forgetting that part.”
“Still,” Jordan added. “Maybe it’s for the best that a five-star Uber rating is all you have to remember him by.”
“Not quite all.” Will pointed to the copy of Maurice, which hadn’t left his nightstand since that day in the bookshop, when Patrick had blithely defaced it.
Jordan picked up the book, and it fell open to the bookmarked page where Patrick’s phone number was scrawled across the scene where Alec climbed up to Maurice’s bedroom window on a ladder. Will had that entire passage memorized by now. Sir, was you calling out for me?
“I’d have preferred jewelry,” Jordan said, snapping the volume shut and replacing it on the bedside table.
“Anyway!” April clapped her hands like she could reset the room. “Song choice. Madonna? Cher? Kylie? You love a bit of Kylie.”
“Hardly groundbreaking,” said Jordan. “Why not lean into the heartache? It works for Adele.”
“And she’s a national treasure,” added April.
