“They also grow discolored?” I say, remembering. “I had a flesh-toned one I kept in my underwear drawer and it sort of took on the colors of the fabrics around it until it eventually looked tie-dyed.”
He laughs, nodding as he works his fingers up and down the neck of his guitar.
I want to understand why I feel so easy around him. Calvin is the human equivalent of a joint. It must be the soothing sound of the guitar. “Maybe it’s because women want pleasure for themselves,” I say, “and not to feel like they’re owing it to a dude, even when it’s a toy.”
He stops playing at this, turning to look at me. “That’s astute.”
I purse my lips at him, playfully. “You’re pointing out how astute I am for understanding my own sexuality?”
The grin that comes over him is probably the best thing I’ve ever seen. It’s wide, showing teeth, crinkling his eyes. “I knew I’d like you.”
I knew I’d like you, too, Busker Jack.
I nod to his guitar as I stand up to start breakfast. “Then keep playing.”
By midmorning we’re headed toward the theater. It’s freezing out, but the cold keeps me from dragging my feet and putting this off any longer. No doubt Robert was tipped off that something was different when I didn’t show up with coffee from Madman, but I doubt he’s expecting Hey, I got married yesterday! as an explanation.
I remind myself that the hard part is over. Telling Robert will be easy because he’ll be thrilled . . .
Right?
Jeff, on the other hand . . .
“So they’ll both be here?”
It’s the first thing Calvin has said since leaving the apartment, and the sound of his voice jerks me out of my anxiety spiral. Clearly we are both on the same page.
“Yeah.” I texted Jeff this morning, asking for a good time to check in with both of them . . . he said he’d be at the theater with Robert all morning. “Robert’s barely left since Seth quit. Jeff threatened to drag him out if he didn’t at least let him bring fresh clothes and food that didn’t come from a vending machine.”
Calvin gives me a tiny wince. “Does it make me a terrible person if I’m relieved they’re still stressed about replacing Seth?”
We reach the front of the Levin-Gladstone and I turn to face him. “If you are, then I am, too, because it just occurred to me last night they could have found a replacement in the time it took to do all this.” I lift my hand and wiggle my ring finger. “That would be . . . inconvenient.”
Calvin gently grips my elbow, stopping me from opening the door. “Thanks for letting me come along this morning. It feels like the right thing.” He hesitates. “You don’t reckon they’ll murder me?”
“They wouldn’t murder you. They’d murder me.”
Just inside, Brian’s eyes land on me like a heat-seeking missile.
“Brace yourself,” I mutter under my breath.
Calvin follows my gaze to Brian barreling down upon us. “Who is that?”
“It’s my boss, the stage manager. Imagine Mr. Plankton and Effie Trinket rolled into one. He hates me.”
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Brian asks, pointing to the door. “You took four days off. Go take them.”
“I came to see Robert. Is he upstairs?”
“He’s upstairs with the rest of your family. I swear to God, are we running a show here or hosting a reunion?” His eyes shift to where Calvin is standing just behind me. I register the exact moment he recognizes him and puts the pieces together, because he glances at my left hand and his face contorts in glee. “Shut. Up.”
“Brian—”
“You actually did it.” He takes a step closer and I step back, colliding with Calvin’s chest. “You let me sit there and get my ass handed to me in front of Michael and the Law brothers, and then you went out and did it anyway.”
I nod, taking these lumps. After all, he isn’t wrong. But the difference was, in the end, it was my decision, rather than some bartering chip Brian gets to claim as his.
“Well.” He takes a dramatic step to the side, throwing his arm out as if to point the way to Robert’s office. “By all means, head upstairs and inform your uncle that you did exactly what I suggested. I cannot wait to hear what he says.”
I take Calvin’s arm and lead him to the stairway, making a mental note to steal the lifts from inside Brian’s fancy Gucci loafers.
“Seems like a good chap,” Calvin says dryly, and despite everything, I burst out laughing.
Robert’s office door is half-open; I stop just outside. “Wait out here, okay? Just for a few minutes.”
Calvin hesitates before giving me a reluctant nod, and I lift my hand to knock.
Robert calls out almost immediately. “Come in.”
“Hey.” I walk in, taking a deep breath. Robert is seated at his desk eating a bagel, and Jeff is folding a pair of pants before tucking them into a leather duffel bag.
Robert looks up when he hears the door click closed behind me. “Hey, Buttercup. I thought you were off this week?”
I walk over and kiss Jeff’s cheek before rounding the desk to kiss Robert. “I came to talk to you.”
“Are you hungry?” Jeff asks. “There’s fruit and coffee and a bag of those little quiches you like.”
“Thanks, but . . . I already ate.” The idea of keeping food down at the moment is comical. I turn to face Robert. “How’s the search going?”
Jeff looks at his husband with an expression that says he’s been living with this particular mood for a few days. “Please don’t get him started.”
Robert rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “We’ve auditioned a dozen musicians.”
“And?” Hope mixed with anxiety burns a hole through my gut.
He sinks back in his chair; he looks exhausted. “And . . . we’ll probably audition a half dozen more.”
“Would it help if I said you didn’t need to?”
I become acutely aware of Jeff going still off to the side.
“We’ve already gone over this, Holland,” Robert says, and then adds, “He can’t.”
“Who can’t what?” Jeff asks very carefully, but I’m sure he already knows.
I ignore this for the moment, focused intently on Robert. “But, let’s just say—hypothetically—that he could?”
He watches me warily. “Well, I would be thrilled. Hypothetically.”
That’s all I need to hear.
Standing, I turn to the door, stopping with my hand on the knob. “I want you to know that I did this because I love you, and when I saw the chance to be able to help, I took it. I know you’re going to be angry with me but it’s done.”
Robert’s voice is a low, menacing rumble. “Holland Lina Bakker. What did you do?”
Judging from the look on his face, he already knows.
I turn the knob and Calvin steps inside, hands tucked deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Mr. Okai.” He looks at Jeff. “Mr. . . .”
“Also Okai,” Jeff finishes, looking back and forth between Calvin and me in confusion. “Would someone like to fill me in?”
I hold up my left hand, displaying my wedding ring.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
And then the burst of Jeff’s incredulous voice: “You got married?” It’s so loud I know even if Brian isn’t standing just outside, more than likely he’s still heard it.
I hold up my hands. “Only temporarily.”
“You married a man you met in the subway? Does your mother know?”
“Absolutely not.” I step closer, putting my hand on his arm. “I talked to Davis and he’s assured me he won’t say anything. I’m hoping you’ll do the same.”
Jeff whips to Robert. “Did you put her up to this?”
“Of course not!” I insist. “He was the first person to shoot down the idea when Brian suggested it.”
“You did something Brian suggested?” Jeff is usually the calm one in our family, so I’m not really sure how to feel about the way that vein in his forehead is bulging. I do, however, take small pleasure in knowing that Brian probably heard this, too. Jeff looks at each of us. “Have you all completely lost your minds?”
“Honey.” Robert stands, rounding his desk to take his husband’s elbow. “Let’s all take a moment to breathe.”
Jeff wheels on him. “You’re not seriously going to let her go through with this.”
Robert throws his hands up. “What do you want me to say?”
“That she needs to undo this immediately?”
I point to my chest. “Hi. Grown woman, standing right here.”
I feel Calvin shift behind me. “I am really sorry that we didn’t involve you in the decision—”
“But it wasn’t up to him,” I interrupt, glancing over my shoulder before looking back at my uncles. “I made it clear Calvin can handle his family, I can handle mine.”
Robert looks up at me, eyes searching. “You’re legally married?”
I nod.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Jeff closes his eyes and takes a calming breath before reaching for his coat and folding it over his arm. “I’m going home to take a bottle of blood pressure medicine and try not to call your mother—my sister—who will want to kill me when she finds out.” Turning to Robert, he adds, “We’ll discuss this when you get home. Which—considering you have a new guitarist—will be early today.”
Robert nods obediently and walks Jeff into the hallway. While he tells him goodbye—speaking too softly for us to hear—Calvin and I share a grimace.
That could have gone better.
With Jeff gone, Robert closes the door and moves to his desk, motioning for us to take the seats opposite him. Hands folded neatly on the chaos of portfolios and résumés in front of him, he looks crankily at each of us in turn. “Okay. You did this, so we may as well deal with it.”