Page 132 of If This Gets Out

“Yeah,” says Ruben. “It’s become pretty clear they aren’t going to let us do it on their terms, so we’re making our own.”

“Right,” says Jon.

“But we wanted to check with you all first,” I say. “Because this will impact you all.”

“I’m so in,” says Angel. “I say you fuck ’em up.”

“Jon?”

Jon’s brow creases. “I think it’s a great idea. You should be able to be yourselves. It’s garbage that they asked you to keep your sexuality a secret.”

A rush of relief fills me. I knew Angel would be down to do something this chaotic, but Jon is much more of a risk when it comes to this sort of thing.

And then he surprises me further. “I have an idea,” he says. “If we’re going to do this, we should do it right.”

We talk it over until we’re all on board.

“It’s perfect,” says Ruben. “I’m in if you all are.”

I offer my hand, and Ruben grabs it. I don’t need to say anything. It’s obvious I am completely and utterly in.

That just leaves Angel. He grins. “Let’s wreak some havoc.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

RUBEN

The crowd’s been lining up in Central Park for two days.

While we get our hair and makeup done by Penny—who goes out of her way to lament how bedraggled we’ve all let ourselves become without her regular care—our team sends hundreds of bottles of water into the crowd. It makes it look like they care, but realistically, they just don’t want anyone collapsing from heat exhaustion or dehydration on their watch. Of course, neither do I, but I have a feeling that while my feelings stem from “god, that would behorrible,” theirs are closer to “god, that’d interrupt the whole concert.”

We’re set up in a heavily guarded tent behind the pop-up stage, surrounded by standing fans, harried staff hissing into headsets, and the low hum of nearby generators. Zach and Jon have ditched their jackets, laying them over the back of the nearest plastic chairs. Luckily for Angel and me, the two of us have been styled in T-shirts for the concert. The afternoon sun has a bite to it today, but at least we won’t be out in it for too long. We’ll go out, participate in an interview, perform “Overdrive” for the first time, launch into a quick message from Jon to the fans, then two more songs. Easy.

At least, that’s theofficialplan. Reality is going to play out somewhat differently.

I poke my head out of the tent to catch a glimpse of the crowd. I can’t see much through the security detail, but the chatter tells me they’ve started filing in to stand in front of the stage. My stomach plunges. It’s the first time I’ve been nervous before a show in years.

A hand rests on my shoulder, and I turn to find Zach. He doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face tells me he knows something’s up with me.

“What happens if my mom turns on me after this?” I ask.

Zach tips his chin away from the tent entrance, and I follow him to a secluded corner. Well, at least, as secluded as we can pull off under these circumstances. No one should be able to hear us over the din, but he keeps his voice low. “If she turns on you for telling the world who you are, she’s lost the right to call herself your mom, if she didn’t lose that right a while ago already. She doesn’t get a say in this anymore, Ruben. You’re not a little kid. You’re an incredible, inspiring person, and it should be her who’s worried about losing her place inyourlife.”

A sad smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Logically, I know that. But this isn’t theoretical anymore. Specifically, what do Idoif she calls me after this and tells me not to come home?”

“The houseyoupaid for, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Then you get off the plane in Portland with me, and we go straight to my mom’s, or a hotel room, or wherever the hell we want, and we figure out what the next steps are together. No matter what happens, you’ll never be alone, though. You know that, right?”

“Thank you,” I whisper. I’m not afraid of losing my home. Money might not be able to buy everything, but with as much of it as I have, I can buy everything I need to live in a heartbeat. I can wake up tomorrow and put in an offer on a sprawling mansion in the Hollywood Hills, fully furnish it, and be set up in the time it takes to finalize the paperwork. I know that, in that respect at least, I’m blessed. But what I am afraid of is losing my family. For better or for worse, they’re still mine. And even if Iamgetting more comfortable with the idea of leaving them—or, at least Mom—behind, that doesn’t mean there won’t be a tidal wave of grief.

Zach continues, gentle but certain. “And that doesn’t just go for today, okay? If youeverdecide you’re done, even if it’s four in the morning, you can come straight to me. I know she’s your mom, but that doesn’t make it a compulsory relationship. We’re your family, too.”

I sink against the wall of the tent. “I don’t think I’m ready for that, yet.”

“I know. But if you ever are, you don’t have to be afraid. That’s all.”

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