Page 36 of Flipping the Script

I was used to people being curious about life on the road and used to the invasive questions people had no trouble asking when you lived in the public eye.

Usually I could shrug them off and deflect enough of them that they’d either come to their own conclusions and leave italone, or they’d get bored when they didn’t get the info they wanted and move on to something else.

Tonight hadn’t been any worse than usual, but after dealing with this bullshit all week at the shop, I stupidly thought I’d get a break if I was among people who knew me. Or at least used to know me.

I didn’t mind the requests for autographs or selfies. I preferred people didn’t come to the shop and bug me at work, but I understood why they did. And Ben did too, thank fuck. Otherwise I’d be out of a job and wouldn’t be able to continue my apprenticeship.

But the constant intrusions into my personal life were the exact reason I’d kept my sexuality a secret all these years. And why I’d done my damnedest to keep my private life private while in the industry.

Being out would have put a target on my back. Not necessarily a bad one, but my entire public persona would have been overshadowed by the fact that I liked dick. Every male musician or vocalist I worked with or had any sort of professional relationship with, or was even just friends with, would have to deal with the “are they, aren’t they” questions in the media, and I would’ve had to constantly field questions about who I was fucking instead of talking about my music.

And as much as the music industry was progressive, there were enough people in the biz and the fandoms who weren’t. Metal was getting better when it came to inclusivity, but it was way behind a lot of genres in being accepting of LGBT+ people.

I’d hoped that being back home and out of the spotlight would mean I could shed all that cloak-and-dagger mystery bullshit and be open about who I was. Or at least stop actively keeping it a secret.

And it wasn’t like I was looking for a boyfriend or to walk in the Pride parade. I just wanted to be able to go to a club or finda one-night stand without having to worry about who might find out or if whoever I hooked up with would talk to the press about me.

I wasn’t so arrogant to think that anyone really gave a shit about me now that my band had broken up and I’d announced my retirement, but there were still a few publications that would pay for proof of me being queer because outing people sold papers, or whatever the digital equivalent was called.

It was too soon. I needed to wait until the ink was dry on our dissolution documents and wait for people to forget about me. It shouldn’t take too long, six months to a year, and I’d be nothing more than a footnote in the annals of music history.

Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath and held it. I’d been in a mood for over a week now, and I couldn’t shake it.

I should have told Ben I had plans tonight and bailed. Sitting in my apartment alone, or being up at the cabin by myself, was preferable to the shit I had to deal with when I was out among people.

A snapping twig and the crunch of shifting rocks caught my attention. Cracking one eye open, I scanned my immediate vicinity.

Another snapping twig, then the sound of a rock skittering over something hollow, rang out. A moment later, Jesse stepped out from between two huge trees.

“You suck at sneaking up on people.”

“What if I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you?” He leaned against one of the trees.

“What do you want?”

It was nearly a full moon, so even with no light sources, I could still make out Jesse’s features as he studied me.

“Why are you out here and not enjoying the party?” he asked.

“Why aren’t you?”

“Because I’m here checking on you.”

“Well, you checked. I’m good. You can go back to your admirers.”

He let out a bark of laughter that was so loud it made me jump.

“What?” I grumbled, hating that he’d startled me.

“My admirers?” His grin was wide but still mocking. “I wasn’t the one holding court like a royal.”

“Holding court like a royal?” The corner of my mouth tilted up in an involuntary smile. “You’ve been talking to Ben, I take it?”

He chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning more heavily against the tree. “Are you waiting for someone?”

The glimmer of a good mood faded at his question. “No.”

“No?” He kicked at something on the ground in front of him. “Not Ally or McKenna?”

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