The Gravity Between Us (New Adult Contemporary Romance) (24 page)

I shudder, awkward from the remnants of her breath against my skin. “You’ll take care of that later, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah, you can bet on it with confidence.” She arches her eyebrows with a slight insinuation of naughtiness. “I guess I’d better go find my seat before I lose control of myself, huh?”

“Yeah, you’d better.” I watch her slink away into the amphitheater.

❄ ❄ ❄

“You two should be more careful,” Lauren whispers once I’ve returned to her side. “It looked like y’all were gonna make out right there in the corner.”

“Damn, really?” I am all but completely troubled at her insight.

“Yeah, you’re lucky the press isn’t allowed inside.”

I nod. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“No problem. Ready to do this?” She slips her hand into mine. I quell the itch to pull my hand away and nod.

Our assigned seats are to the right of Rebecca Gordon and Spencer St. Germaine. Gunner and Kendall are seated to their left. As we scoot into the aisle, Kendall’s glare locks onto mine and Lauren’s clasped hands. I watch her lips twist into an irritated grimace. Gunner also notices the change in her demeanor. I’m relieved I’m not the only one. He mumbles a troubled “chill out” in Kendall’s direction. She lets out a vexed sigh followed by a muted, yet forceful, “Okay.”

The lot of us watch the show for a good hour as presenter after presenter calls the winners of various categories to the stage: Best Male Performance, Best Female Performance, Best Screenplay, Best Film, Best Director. Finally, the chairman of the Gay and Lesbian Cinema Committee gets to the Visibility Award, but not before going off on a tangent about how “it’s out of the usual practice of the committee to present accolades to the stars of a film that has not yet been released.” He goes on to laud Rebecca and Kendall for their poignant performance of two female characters who are struggling with the difficulties of living in the spotlight. Once he finishes his grand discourse, he calls Kendall and Rebecca up to receive their trophies. As they scramble their way onto the stage, the room rumbles with applause—mine included. Mr. Chairman hands them each a gilded bronze statuette, and the whole place goes silent in anticipation of their individual speeches.

Rebecca gives an unoriginal speech, thanking everyone involved with
Idol Worship
and her agent for bringing the role to her attention. She finishes, and Kendall steps up to the microphone.

“I’d just like to say, I’ve come to realize the importance of LGBT characters being represented in films and on TV, because visibility really
does
matter. When audiences get to see LGBT characters dealing with the same tough issues as everyone else, when audiences get to know and love those characters, I believe it’s the most humanizing thing in the world. I’m proud to have had the opportunity to play a wounded yet very real character in
Idol Worship
, and I am truly grateful to the Gay and Lesbian Cinema Committee for recognizing the deeper message of the film. Thank you.”

If the theater was loud before Kendall’s speech, now it is downright thunderous. Every single person in the room is on his feet, clapping and cheering. The raucousness continues right up to the second Rebecca and Kendall get back to their seats. Kendall graciously bows her head and lifts her hands, miming the classic signal to “settle down.” I’m staring at her in awe, surprised at the passion she’s displayed, when Lauren—still clapping, herself—leans in close to me. “Beautiful speech,” she says cynically. “It’s so nice to see how proud she is to have played a LGBT
character
. She’s gay, for fucks sake.”

“Okay. First, that’s for
her
to say, not for you, me or anyone else. Second, considering you and I both know how difficult it can be for openly LGBT people, I’m surprised at your attitude.”

“I’m just saying. How long can this go on, really? The very definition of fame is that everyone in the world either knows your business or
tries
to know it.”

“Give her a break, all right?”

“Okay. We’ll see how much of a break you’ll want to give her in a few minutes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask defensively. The crowd’s cheering has long since ceased; my voice reverberates, unobstructed, throughout the auditorium. I blush in recognition of my volume.

“Nothing,” she whispers. “Forget I said anything.”

“All right, everybody,” the voice of the host blares through the sound system. “We’ve reached the part of the evening where we stop talking and start doing. It’s time to auction off some celebrity kisses!”

Lauren turns her attention to the stage, abruptly putting an end to our conversation. I’m all too thankful for the interruption. “As you all know, the proceeds of this auction go to various charities, including the California Equality Project and the True Colors Higher Education Fund. Without any further ado, I invite tonight’s participating celebrities to take the stage.”

From my peripheral view, I see Kendall stand up. She makes her way down the row, pauses to talk to me as she reaches my seat. “It’s just for charity. Don’t be upset.”

Upset? Does she really think I’ll be upset about her kissing some rich fool for
charity
? What am I, a jealous child? Or some kind of asshole who isn’t interested in helping my community? “It’s fine,” I wave her off. “Go be altruistic.”

Kendall takes the stage again, along with two other people—a singer named Lenore and some football player I’ve never heard of whose team is the Los Angeles Crusaders. The host opens the auction with Lenore. A flurry of bids descends on the host, who seems so overwhelmed that he can hardly keep track. The winning bid of $2,900 goes to a woman seated a few rows behind me. She screams in delight after the host tells her to come down to the stage and stand next to Lenore. The football player is auctioned next. A woman sitting way up in the nosebleed section wins with a bid of $3,700. She also squeals in excitement as she heads for the stage.

“Last, but never least, we have the lovely Kendall Bettencourt,” the host says. “She’s the star of the blockbuster film
In Heaven’s Arms
, and, as everyone here knows, winner of this year’s GLCC Visibility Award. Let’s begin the bidding at $1,000. Do I have a measly grand from anyone?”

A tide of chatter ripples around the room. From somewhere in the back of the theater, a man shouts, “Right here!”

“There we go! Can I get two? $2,000, people! Come on, Kendall’s dress is worth more than that!”

“Two thousand,” shouts a woman in the front-left of the auditorium. The original bidder ups his offer to $2,400 and a small bidding war ensues between the two. The highest bid comes from the woman; she’s gone up to $4,000. The man is about to make a counter offer, when a third voice chimes in.

“Eight thousand!” The voice belongs to a man. It sounds familiar and relatively close to me. I look over to my left, and lo and behold, Gunner is on his feet.

What the shit is this!

“Sold!” The host hollers. “Give it up for Mr. Gunner Roderick! Who knew he was such a romantic?”

The crowd goes wild as he heads for the stage. It seems like every last person in the theater is cheering him on—every last person save for me and Lauren. Lauren reaches for my hand. She slides her fingers between mine and holds firm. “It’s a publicity stunt,” she says. “Lawrence put them up to it. Are you all right?”

No, I’m not all right! We’re on shaky ground to begin with, and Kendall thinks she can just go around kissing people who aren’t me?
I’ve tried to be understanding and supportive, if not downright accepting of this whole confusing thing, but I’m only human. We all have our breaking points, and I have unquestionably reached mine. “I need some air.”

“Okay,” Lauren jumps out of her chair, pulling me up with her. The last thing I see before we turn to leave the theater is Kendall’s face as pale as a cadaver’s.

We make a beeline for the doors leading to the street, but don’t stop until we’ve reached the sidewalk. “Breathe.”
Lauren gently pats my back. “I know you’re shaken up, but I also know Kendall will be out here looking for you in about two minutes.”

“Oh, yeah? How do you know that?”

“Because she would be stupid not to.”

“Payton?” Kendall calls from the doorway. Lauren and I both turn to face her.

“That’s my cue to exit,” Lauren says, then starts toward the theater. She stops when she’s about six inches away from Kendall and shakes her head almost imperceptibly. I don’t think I’m supposed to hear her say it, but I do: “If you break her heart, I’ll be right here to pick up the pieces.”

“Don’t worry,” Kendall fires back. “I’ll never give you the chance.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kendall

L
auren’s snide remark angers me in the most dangerous sense of the word. Prior to this moment, I was unaware that anger had a flavor, but I guess there’s only so much the human body can take before it has to either explode into a fit of full-blown rage or find another way to expel the fury. To my surprise, rage has a metallic tang to it—something very similar to the taste of blood. Actually, it isn’t rage I’m tasting, after all. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve bitten my tongue.

Luckily, Lauren is smart enough to head inside before I let myself fly off the handle. She’s not the most important person I’m standing in front of, anyway. I take a quick step toward Payton and reach for her hand. She jolts away from me in a hurry.
Oh Lord, please help me get out of the deep shit I’m in.
“Payton, I am
so
sorry. Lawrence set it up and I–”

“Stop talking.” she interrupts, her voice so unforgivingly stern that it physically stings me. “‘It’s for charity. Don’t be upset!’ Well, I am upset! Maybe I’m overreacting, but I can’t help it!” Without warning she goes deathly quiet. The next thing I know, I’m watching tears assault her face. The shiny droplets fuse with her mascara and stain her cheeks with long, black smudges.
Oh shit, I made her cry.

A putrefied glob of remorse congeals in my throat.
Whatever you say, Kendall, it had better be damn good.
“Acting like I’m with Gunner is easy… No, that’s not right. What I mean to say is, I just… I don’t know how to do this.” I sigh. “I don’t know how to balance being the huge superstar everyone thinks they know and who I truly am. It’s like I’m walking on a tight rope, and there’s no safety net beneath me. On one hand, I have all the people and things I’m
told
to care about, and on the other, I have all the people and things I
actually
care about. I feel like everybody in the world wants everything, every last part of me. But I’m not ready to give them all of me. I’m not even ready to
be
me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She wipes at her eyes with a shaky palm and fixes her gaze on me. “I get it. I’ve been where you are. It’s a process, coming to terms with yourself. But I’m not asking you to come bursting out of the closet on some nationally televised five o’clock news program. I’m asking you to tone down the façade a little bit. I don’t need to be by your side at premiers and parties, but I’m
not okay
with you going around kissing anyone who isn’t me.”

All right, that is a reasonable request. The
idea
of Payton kissing someone else is enough to break me. I don’t know what I’d do if it ever actually happened. “I swear I will never kiss anyone but you again. Lawrence can choose whoever he likes to be my escort, but I won’t let him talk me into doing anything that might upset you. And I’m going to make him clear my schedule for the rest of the week. I’m not leaving on Friday for a three-week promo tour without spending every second I can with you before I go.”

“What about the Ellie Nominations party tomorrow night? You can’t miss that. Even if you don’t get a nomination, you absolutely have to go. You have to go
especially
if you aren’t nominated. If you don’t at least make an appearance that would be like flipping the bird to the most important people in Hollywood. Then you definitely won’t get nominated for anything you do in the future.”

“I’ll go if you come with me,” I say, arms folded across my chest so she knows I’m serious.

She rolls her eyes. Her pupils reel so far back into her skull, I’m afraid they’ll get stuck there. “Oh, man, Lawrence will have a fit. He’s crafted this thing between you and Gunner so perfectly.”

“You’re right, he
has
crafted it perfectly. But I don’t give a shit. I want to go to the party with you.”

“Really?”

The question was posed in the faintest pitch, but hits me harder than a fist to the chin. “
Of course
.”

She sniffles. “Okay.”

I reach my hand out to her again. This time, she takes it. “Come here.” I pull her close to me and buff away the traces of her runny eye makeup with the pads of my thumbs. I realize we’re standing on the sidewalk of one of the most well-traveled neighborhoods of downtown LA, but right now I can’t afford to be concerned that some random passerby might recognize us as lovers.
“Do you want to head back inside? The show is almost over. Or we could blow it off and go home.”

“Let’s go inside. It would look bad if you bolted from the theater and didn’t come back. You’d probably offend the entire gay community.”

“Hmm, yeah. That is not a good position to put myself in.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Okay, here’s the plan. We sit out the rest of the show then get out of there real quick before anyone else has the chance to. We hop in a cab and make our way home without any further badgering from the media, or anybody else.”

“Great plan. But what are you going to say to Lawrence when he calls you up later, bellowing about how you disappeared?”

“I’ll send him to voicemail.”

“Good. I don’t want his screaming at you impeding on my quiet cuddle time—which I am in dire need of, because my head is pounding harder than a sailor on shore leave.”

“Okay, it’s settled. If he calls me tonight, I’ll send him to voicemail. Now, let’s get the rest of this horrible evening out of the way.”