This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, business establishments or events is entirely coincidental. Comments and feedback are highly appreciated, send to mozlover21@gmail.com
Electricity
Chapter 7.
He sat at the kitchen table typing away as quietly as possible, the phantom glow of the laptop monitor the only thing illuminating his face. It was six in the morning, and he had already been awake for an hour, diligently making progress on his Thompson Foundation article. The secret project could only be worked on in the early hours of the morning, before he would head to work and before Tom was awake. Aubrey thought about the fact that he would need to figure out a way to explain the article to Kat, who would surely see it as a huge betrayal and slap in the face. But he couldn't worry about that now. Andrew Thompson had unknowingly saved his career by asking him to do this write up, and he wasn't going to let him down.
He glanced down to check on Prince, who was leisurely sprawled at his feet, the ever loyal companion. Suddenly, the sound of an incoming email got his full attention. It was Jenny, Pride's social media coordinator. It was unusual for Aubrey to hear from her, especially this early in the day. He clicked on the email right away.
"Hello Aubrey, I was approving comments on the website this morning when I came upon one that seemed a little strange. The user attempted to leave it under every article we had go up yesterday. I flagged them for now, but let me know what you think. Screenshot attached below."
He double tapped the attachment. The comment was from user "maryjane45789", which sounded vaguely familiar.
"While I thoroughly enjoyed writer Aubrey Miller's epic takedown of lowlife and sleaze-ball Andrew Thompson, I was saddened to learn that some of Pride's staff had been seen mingling with the dirtbag in their after work hours. Apparently there are photos being shopped around of one of Pride's writers up close with the douche. I surely do hope those are just rumors! I can't imagine how Pride's readers would feel knowing they had been greatly deceived!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Aubrey stared at the comment, then reached for the glass of water next to him and brought it quickly to his lips. Over the years he had dealt with a fair share of online criticism and "haters", but something about this particular comment had him rattled. So Kat had been right, someone at the restaurant saw them. And someone was blabbing. How could he have been stupid enough to have dinner with Andrew Thompson in public? The guy was a superstar athlete, of course people were going to take notice. Suddenly he felt panicked about doing the Foundation write up. How would his audience react to him suddenly trying to paint Andrew in a positive light so soon after he released an article that highlighted all of his faults? Would his reputation take a hit? Then he reminded himself that Earl Warren already knew and approved of his budding friendship with Thompson. And in fact, he seemed to view it as a positive thing for both Ways and Pride. Still, doing a professional write up was different than private dinner pictures leaking out. It would be a huge stain on his reputation if those were to see the light of day before he could release the Foundation article.
He quickly hit "reply" on the email to the social media coordinator: "Good looking out Jenny. Please flag all and delete. And do me a favor, keep an eye out on that username and send any future comments my way."
In an instant Jenny replied with a"You got it."
He then contemplated his next step for a while. He didn't want to make the call, but he picked up the phone anyway. It had to be done. He would need to put his pride aside and get it over with. At first the call went to voicemail, but undeterred he tried again.
"Hello," the sleepy male voice on the other end answered. Even after all those years it was still familiar. Aubrey drew in a breath in order to steady his voice.
"Jim, it's Aubrey, long time no talk," he began, and he felt his palms getting sweaty.
"Who?" the man on the other end asked.
"Aubrey Miller" he repeated, then added after a while of silence added, "from Pride. Sorry to be calling you this early."
"Jesus man, it's like five in the morning," Jim replied, his voice groggy.
"Actually, it's six," Aubrey countered, then immediately regretted his choice of words. He needed Jim to help him, and he was sabotaging the chance of that happening with every passing second.
"I'm in Alaska, asshole. There's a time difference. Working on a story on seal hunting."
"Seal hunting? How...riveting. Listen, I need a favor."
"Of course you do, why else would you grace me with a phone call after you ghosted me all those years ago." As always, Jim had to make things awkward. But he was right, of course. Aubrey had ghosted him seemingly out of nowhere.
"About that..." Aubrey began, wanting to apologize, but the man cut him off.
"Keep the apology, I've moved on. What do you need?" Aubrey felt a pang of guilt. He had lost his virginity to Jim, but their fling had ended abruptly because Aubrey had met Tom, and it seemed like Tom was ready for a serious relationship while Jim was more of a wild card. But Aubrey realized that the way he walked away from Jim had been somewhat cold. However, he had to put all that aside now because apart from being a writer, Jim also ran an incredibly successful celebrity photo agency. If anyone would know about photos of Andrew Thompson being shopped around, it would be him.
"This is a private question, so I am hoping for your discretion. Has anyone tried to sell you photos or a video of me and Andrew Thompson?" There was silence on the other end.
"Jesus Christ, you made a sex tape with Andrew Thompson?"
"What!? No, no not a sex tape. Pictures of us having dinner." There was an audible exhale on the other end.
"Shit you had me scared for a moment. Uhh, let me look really quick," he said and Aubrey could hear him get up from bed with a groan, then the sound of his feet tapping on what sounded like wooden floor. After a while he could hear the soft clicks of laptop keys for several minutes. "Nope, nothing like that.
"That's great news," Aubrey replied, feeling instant relief spread through his body.
"So you had dinner with Andrew Thompson? What's he like in person?" Aubrey could hear the little boy in Jim's voice. From what he could remember, the man was a big football fan. "He's actually pretty decent. I don't know him that well but...he's a pretty nice guy."
"Then why the smear campaign?" the writer felt a wave of embarrassment.
"You know the world we live in, boring news doesn't get clicks."
"It's a shame you'd attempt to bring down a fellow gay man, and first openly gay quarterback, for some clicks. The Aubrey I knew had higher standards. Then again, you did ghost me, so I don't know why I'm shocked. Anyway, I'm going back to bed. Take care Miller," he said and hung up. Aubrey could feel the sting of Jim's words spread through him like fire. Jim was right, Aubrey--or at least the old Aubrey--would never haven taken "clicks" or "views" or "comments" or "popularity" into account when writing a story. He didn't write for the glory of awards or praises, or as Andrew joked to win a Pulitzer. He wrote because there was an invisible force that pulled him towards bringing important issues to light. Sure, not every story was groundbreaking. But there was something almost spiritual about being able to share a story with a larger group of people and imagine them discussing it with their family at dinner, or feel changed or inspired by it. It was like having a secret superpower, just like Andrew Thompson had the arm strength to throw the ball with so much velocity that defensive backs could barely react in time. Except Aubrey's strength was putting words on paper in a way that many other people couldn't. But the Andrew Thompson article now felt like a chink in his armor, a blemish in an otherwise almost spotless reputation , and every single day he felt worse and worse about ever agreeing to it.
Jim's words had gotten to him so much that he had to get out of the house and get some fresh air. He decided to make a grocery store run. Twenty minutes later he wandered the aisles of the supermarket aimlessly. Finally he decided he was going to make a fruit salad, and for that he needed to find the perfect cantaloupe. As he compared two different cantaloupes, trying to decide which one would be better, he suddenly realized someone had been watching him.
Gaze detection--our uncanny ability to sense when someone is looking at us. Developed in our ancestors in order to survive and not become someone's lunch.
He felt it, out of the blue, a pair of eyes drilling into him. He slowly looked up from the cantaloupes into the eyes of the offender--it was an older woman, and her face seemed vaguely familiar. He looked back down at his cantaloupes, trying to recall when he'd see her. Was she a visitor at Ways? Or maybe someone he'd seen at Pride recently.
Suddenly, she was on the move, and she was headed right at him. Perhaps a fan of his writing? But judging by her age and gender she wasn't exactly his prime audience.
"Are you Aubrey Miller, the journalist?" she asked and right away Aubrey knew that the tone of her voice spelled bad news. She must have been one of those religious nuts who despised gay journalists spreading their gay agenda to the world.
"That's me," Aubrey replied, not exactly intimidated. He'd been through this before. It's not like there was a shortage of homophobes, even in the Bay area.
"Shame on you." Yep, definitely a religious nut, Aubrey thought. "I'm Elaine Thompson, Andrew Thompson's mother." Now this was a curveball he wasn't expecting. "My son may not be picture perfect, but he's a damn good human being. For you to use your platform to tarnish his name in the news and blame him for the problems of a community is simply despicable," she said, her voice quivering with a sense of righteousness. "Have a good day, sir," she added for good measure and briskly walked off to the paper towel aisle, leaving a speechless Aubrey behind.
Now he remembered where he'd seen her face. While him and Kat were buried deep in their research for the Thompson piece, he'd looked at numerous pictures of Andrew's family members, including his mother. That's why her face had looked familiar. He sighed, the whole day was slowly turning into a disaster. He considered following her and apologizing, but decided against it. The last thing he needed was to antagonize Andrew's mother in public. He would ask Andrew how to handle the situation, perhaps he could pass on a personal note from Aubrey.
Suddenly he was distracted from his thoughts by the obnoxiously loud ringtone of his phone, which made him drop one of the cantaloupes.
"Fuck," he cussed as he answered the phone.
"Aubrey, you gotta get here right now," Cindy, the manager of Ways shrieked on the other end. Aubrey's mind went to the worst possible place.
"What happened? Is Nelson okay?"
"Everything is fine, just come here as soon as you can."
"Okay," the writer replied picking up the cantaloupe and heading toward the checkout line. When he got in his car he pushed on the gas pedal of the no longer rattling Toyota, and headed over to the Ways center. When Aubrey went to pick up his car at the mechanic, not only was it working again, but the mechanic told him he fixed an array of other issues it had, and to Aubrey's surprise it was all paid for, courtesy of one famous quarterback. Of course Aubrey had reached out to him and told him he couldn't accept the gift and that he would pay him back, but Andrew replied by saying that Aubrey taking his time to work on the Thompson foundation write-up was enough, and that this was his gift. Aubrey wasn't used to gifts or being given things for free, it made him uncomfortable. But having to no longer worry about his car breaking down at any given minute was a huge burden off his shoulders. Yet he couldn't lie, it made him feel indebted to Andrew, which was not a feeling he enjoyed.
Outside of Ways he saw large trucks and workers moving things into the building. He walked past them and found Cindy and the Professore Earl Warren standing by the front desk with their mouths comically hanging open in shock as they watched the workers.
"What is going on?" he asked, confused by all the commotion.
"Well, your boyfriend just donated brand new library computers as well as personal laptops for the kids. He also upgraded our laundry room with new washers and dryers. Not only that, last night we received a frighteningly large `anonymous' donation. It's a miracle, but we are paid up for the whole year," Warren said, looking almost speechless. "Whatever you did to this man, keep doing it," he added.
"My boyfriend...?" Aubrey asked, then suddenly caught on. "I didn't do anything. I guess the article really made him rethink some things. I'm glad at least one person doesn't hate me for writing it," he declared, stunned by the whole situation. Warren shot him his famous look of pure contempt.
"Yes, I'm sure he's doing all this out of the goodness of his heart. Bless you and your naiveté Aubrey. Anyway, I have to head over to Pride, make sure the new girl didn't burn the place down. She has energy like no other. Speaking of energy, I'm still waiting on some new work from you. The people want to hear from the great Aubrey Miller." Aubrey's insides clenched.
"Yeah, I'll have something for you soon."
"Good," Warren replied, still watching him. Aubrey felt concerned for a moment. It was like Warren knew something. Something he wasn't telling him. But the man quickly turned on his heel and left.
"He's such a joy," Cindy whispered.
"Isn't he?" Aubrey replied, then pulled out his phone. He needed to speak with Andrew.
"Hey Aubrey," the quarterback sounded out of breath when he picked up, like he was in the middle of a workout.
"Am I catching you at a bad moment?"
"Never a bad moment to talk to you," Andrew replied and Aubrey rolled his eyes. The man never stopped with all of his corny flirting. "I can feel that eye roll from miles away," Andrew added and Aubrey chuckled. "What's up?"
"Well, I'm at Ways, and it looks like a lot of things have been upgraded by a certain generous donor."
"Oh yeah? That's pretty cool."
"Very cool. You wouldn't know anything about who did this, would you?"
"Me? The selfish and narcissistic quarterback? Nope, I have no idea," he replied playfully.
"Right, that's exactly what I thought. However, you did get my car fixed and take me and Prince out to dinner, so now I'm wondering how I'm supposed to pay you back for all that?" Aubrey decided to leave out his encounter with Andrew's mother for now. He would deal with it later.
"Actually, I know just the perfect thing you could do for me. If you don't mind, there's someone I'd like you to meet. He'll most likely be involved with the foundation as well in some capacity."
"Oh, who is it?"
"He's a good friend and we have a dinner scheduled for tonight. His husband will be there as well. I'd love for you to join us." The last thing Aubrey wanted was to give another opportunity for someone to snap a photograph of him at dinner with Andrew Thompson. But after everything Andrew had done, Aubrey couldn't say no.
"Sounds like a plan."
"Great, I'll pick you up at 7."
"See you then," Aubrey replied and hung up. Cindy gave him a look but didn't say anything.
"How's Nels?" he asked her.
"Hanging in there. He's been a bit down lately. Tried calling his dad, but still no response."
Aubrey nodded in frustration. Nelson was a source of worry for him. He was an amazing and talented kid, but Aubrey just had a nagging feeling that things weren't going well. He decided to swing by his room.
He found him sitting on his bed with a Bible in his hands. Aubrey's winced at the sight of it. He'd had numerous conversations with Tom about Nelson's parents and their religious beliefs and how they affected Nelson. Both Aubrey and Tom agreed that Nelson would need to walk away from all the religious indoctrination in order to fully accept himself. But it seemed like the boy hadn't made any progress in that department.
"Hey Aubrey," he said when he noticed him in the doorway.
"Can I come in?"
"Of course, good to see you," he said as Aubrey sat on the chair next to the bed.
"I can get you some Harry Potter, you know, you don't have to be stuck reading that," Aubrey said chuckling, as he pointed to the Bible with an undeniable hint of revulsion.
"Thanks, I have other books. But for some reason, I keep coming back to this." Nelson looked more alive and energetic than he had in a while. Aubrey didn't know how to respond. He'd never dealt with deeply religious people. "And Mr. Thompson dropped by the other day, told me to read the story of Job." Right away Aubrey felt a build up of anger in the pit of his stomach. The Ways counselors along with Tom and everyone involved in Nelson's life and road to recovery have been trying to gently put an end to the boy's religious beliefs. Yet here was Andrew, strolling in like he owned the place and giving out unsolicited advice that could singlehandedly undo months of hard work and even result in Nelson's death. Maybe everyone had been right. Maybe Kat was right. Some people never changed.
"Listen Nels, Andrew is a great football player. But that doesn't necessarily mean that he has the greatest life advice. There's some things in life that we just have to let go of. As a gay man, that book you're holding is one of those things." Nelson didn't look convinced.
"Just listen to this passage from Job," he said excitedly and began reading.
"But if I go to the east, he is not there; if I go to the west, I do not find him. When he is at work in the north, I do not see him; when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him. But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold. My feet have closely followed his steps; I have kept to his way without turning aside. I have not departed from the commands of his lips; I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my daily bread. But he stands alone, and who can oppose him? He does whatever he pleases. He carries out his decree against me, and many such plans he still has in store. That is why I am terrified before him; when I think of all this, I fear him. God has made my heart faint; the Almighty has terrified me. Yet I am not silenced by the darkness, by the thick darkness that covers my face."
Aubrey didn't know what to say, but he knew he was going to have a long talk about this with Andrew. He couldn't believe that quarterback thought it was okay to do this. After speaking with Nelson for a little longer, he went back home only to find an excited Tom standing at the dining table and waving around a magazine in his hand.
"I have a surprise for you," he stated. With the way the day was going, Aubrey wasn't sure if he was ready for yet another surprise.
"What is it?" he asked cautiously. He sat down and Tom threw the magazine in front of him. It was the latest edition of "Men's Health" with a half naked Andrew Thompson on the cover.
Aubrey stared at the picture for much longer than was appropriate, his eyes consuming every detail. He couldn't help it, even though he was pissed at Andrew there was no denying the man was beyond attractive: he was shirtless and front and center was that insane 8-pack of his, oiled and greased up for best viewing pleasure. His biceps glistening, showing off an array of sexy tattoos. A black pair of sweatpants hung as low as decency allowed, revealing an Adonis belt that seemed to point the way towards something incredibly exciting down below. You could dislike Andrew Thompson and his lifestyle, but as a gay man you simply couldn't dislike his body. It was otherworldly. It was as if God commissioned Michelangelo himself to hand-sculpt it in heaven before he unleashed Andrew onto the world.
"Wow," was all Aubrey managed to croak out loud. Suddenly Tom's laugh awoke him from his thoughts.
"What a jackass. I mean, he's honestly so laughable. Who finds this fake shit attractive?" he stated, and Aubrey had to stop himself from raising a hand. "But the article inside is an absolute masterpiece of intelligence. You have to read it immediately." Aubrey leafed through the magazine until he found the cover story, and more drool-worthy pictures of Andrew. He began reading the article, which followed a standard formula of workout and diet tips. Aubrey was starting to wonder what Tom was talking about, but just then he got to the last question.
Interviewer: What do you look for in love?
Andrew Thompson: Can I use one word?
Interviewer: Sure.
Andrew Thompson: Electricity.
Aubrey reread it a couple times, to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Nope, it was right there, in actual print. Electricity. He felt shivers run up his spine.
"Did you finish?" Tom asked, and Aubrey glanced up from the magazine.
"Yeah, uhhh, boring huh?" he replied, trying to sound disinterested. His eyes darted back over to the last question, rereading it once again.
"He's really something else. `Electricity'. Actually, someone should plug him into an outlet and sizzle out those two remaining brain cells. Do the world a favor, you know? He probably felt some static while he was pawing at one of those barely legal IG boys, and he confused it for love," Tom said, laughing to himself. But Aubrey wasn't in a laughing mood. Even just looking at the cover, he could feel it again, buzzing through his entire body. A strange electric current. "I still can't believe he had you come over. What was he trying to accomplish with that, I'll never understand. It was such a bad chess move! But I have to say, it would be amusing to be inside of his small brain for one day and experience the three words that he most likely hears in rotation: football, ass, bros. Rinse and repeat. Can you imagine?"
"You know, I don't think he's as dim as you think he is." Aubrey was trying to be careful with his words, but he was getting tired of Tom's mean-spirited attitude.
"Please, his brain is so empty I can hear the rattling of the dust-bunnies from in there. Do you ever watch his post game interviews? If he replied any slower I would actually think there's brain damage involved."
"I didn't know you watched his interviews," Aubrey replied quickly. He didn't want to get into it with Tom, he was already having a bad day as it was. He did not want to add `relationship strife' to the pile of crap he was juggling.
"I've caught a few here and there. They are really something else." Aubrey didn't want to admit this, but he'd also seen more than a fair share. It started out as simple research for the story, but then he fell into a Youtube blackhole and watched endless compilations of Andrew Thompson giving statements to the media. He was witty, without really even trying. He was charming, by pure accident. His answers weren't Shakespearean quotes, he was just a straight forward talker and he replied to questions by getting right to the point, which reflected his personality pretty well. And Aubrey enjoyed seeing his facial changes, after a win his demeanor would be cheerful and upbeat. After a loss, his brow would be furrowed, and his voice lower than usual.
"I forgot to tell you, but he was actually at Ways the other day," Aubrey stated, trying to sound casual.
"What?" Tom asked, sounding surprised.
"Yeah, he stopped by to talk to the kids and see what the center needed."
"Wow, his PR team is working overtime huh? You really struck a chord with your article."
"There was no paparazzi, nobody knew he was there."
"Come on, his team knew word would spread. That's a clever move."
Suddenly, Aubrey decided to be truthful.
"I have more news," he stated and Tom's eyes perked up. "I'm going to dinner with him tonight."
"Excuse me?" Tom replied with an amused look.
"It's a long story but he donated a bunch of new stuff to Ways and I called to thank him and I'm working on another article but I can't really tell you the details yet because it's kind of a secret but anyways, it will be me and him and some other people involved in the project." Tom had stopped cutting the vegetables he was preparing for dinner and stood inside of the kitchen with a questionable expression.
"Uh, alright. Well I'm glad you're working on another article about him, the last one was a big hit. How about I come along with you? I'd love to meet this moron."
"It's a work thing, I can't exactly bring my boyfriend along."
"Boyfriend, I hate that word," Tom said a bit icily. "Speaking of which, we have yet to sit down and seriously discuss our marriage plans." Aubrey felt his head start to spin. This was worse than an ambush. The last thing he wanted to do right now was discuss marriage plans with Tom.
"Can we shelf that discussion for another time, please? It's been a long day and now I have this dinner to get through."
"Of course," Tom replied. Aubrey headed into the bathroom for a quick shower, then changed his clothes. He decided to wear a black sweater and gray pants and a pair of white sneakers. Just then his phone dinged with a text, Andrew was outside.
He said goodbye to Tom, who still looked a bit skeptical of the whole situation, but didn't comment any further. When he got outside, he realized that Andrew had swapped his Lamborghini for a Rolls Royce. How many cars did the man own?
"Nice car, and nice watch," he said getting in and eyeing the Audemars Piguet on Andrew's wrist.
"Thanks," Andrew replied smiling, "You look great." Aubrey raised an eyebrow but before he could say anything Andrew stepped on the gas.
"How's Prince?" Andrew asked.
"Good. In desperate need of a bath. I've been a neglectful dad."
"Because of your writing situation?" Andrew asked carefully.
"Yes, partly. It's been...stressful."
"But there's something else?" he asked, and Aubrey was amazed at how perceptive he was.
"Listen, I appreciate everything you've done for Ways. It was really unexpected. And it's lovely that you're trying to get closer with the kids, they are all obsessed with you. But I went by Nelson's room today and found him reading the Bible," Aubrey stated and hoped the quarterback would understand where he was coming from, but from the look on Andrew's face it seemed like he wasn't following. "With everything his parents put him through, the last thing we want is to encourage him to read sad Bible verses that are just going to put him into a deeper depression." Andrew still seemed confused.
"I didn't mean to overstep, but the story of Job is not sad. It's a lesson in patience and persistence. On how to stay faithful even in the face of great difficulty."
"Faithful? We're not trying to have him stay faithful, we're trying to keep him alive," Aubrey replied, growing more annoyed by the minute.
"How's that working?"
"What?"
"I said how's that working? You told me he tried to commit suicide twice already. When I see him, he looks downcast and miserable. No offense, but it seems like something you're doing is not working." Now Aubrey was offended.
"Well maybe it's that we're trying to undo years of religious indoctrination, which, by the way, you might have ruined in the span of one day with your wonderful reading recommendations," Aubrey replied, outraged. Did Andrew Thompson, a guy who just met Nelson, really think he knew what was best for him? Was he truly that narcissistic?
"Or maybe the problem is that you're continuously trying to take away something from him, something in which he deeply believes. Something that provides security for him in this world."
"Like what? The false religious beliefs that put him into the horrible position he's in right now?"
"His faith, Aubrey. You're trying to erase his faith, and it's leaving him scared and confused and lonely."
"Wow, really, now you're an expert on gay youth. Amazing," he replied sarcastically. "Religion has killed and maimed and injured too many gay men to count, you are not going to convince me to just let him be further brainwashed. He needs to let go of the false beliefs that have been force fed into him since he was a child."
"You're being stubborn. And you're letting your own beliefs cloud your judgement, at his cost."
"You know what, pardon me if I don't want to take my advice from someone like you," Aubrey said, cutting deep on purpose.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Andrew asked, and now Aubrey could sense agitation in his voice. But he didn't bother with an answer because they pulled up to the restaurant at that very moment. This was going to be one interesting dinner.