I'd Still Find You (Part 6)
Kris slept deeply that night, but he didn’t dream. When he woke up he didn’t feel angry or excited or confused. He didn’t feel anything. Just hollow.
After pulling on some shorts and a t-shirt, he headed out for an early morning run. He left his phone in the drawer.
It felt good to run, and he pushed himself, concentrating on his breathing and the stretch of his muscles. When he got home, Allison was in the kitchen cooking something that smelled wonderful.
“Omelettes with goat cheese, shower first.”
He resisted the urge to hug her until he came out of the bathroom scrubbed clean and fresh.
“You haven’t lost your appetite,” Matt observed as Kris finished his second omelette and reached for the bowl of strawberries.
“Alright, cutie,” Allison said. “Time to talk about this. Have you called him?”
“I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t even know him.”
A slightly awkward silence followed.
“Maybe you should give him a chance to--”
“Explain why he lied to me for a month?” Kris’s voice was calm and matter of fact. “Thanks for breakfast, Allie. It was awesome, really. I’m gonna head out to the gym now.”
Matt and Allison exchanged worried looks.
“Mind if I tag along?” Matt asked.
Kris raised an eyebrow. “Um, sure. You do realize people exercise there, right?”
“So sue me, I like to watch. Let me get my keys.”
At the gym it felt good to lose himself in the exercise again. Matt spotted while he lifted.
“So this is how come you look like that. Damn,” Matt said as Kris ended his last set.
“Are you pity flirting with me?” Kris demanded with a grin. The grin faded as Kris registered the song that was playing over the gym’s speakers: “Whataya Want From Me.” He listened for a moment, then stood up, tossed his towel in the bin, and headed for the door.
A cover on the magazine rack by the door caught his eye. Details magazine. Kris helplessly reached for it.
The teenager from the high school photo was nowhere to be seen. The hair was jet black, the cheekbones were sculpted, the jawline was chiseled. Even the freckles were mostly gone, erased by makeup and photoshop. Kris took in the leather jacket, the fierce expression. He tried to reconcile it with the image of Adam he had held in his mind for all those weeks, a comfortable Adam with thick red hair and a big, warm body and a galaxy of freckles.
The DJ’s voice came on over the end of the song. “That was Adam Lambert, coming home tonight to play the Staples Center. Want to see Glambert? Don’t we all, but I’m afraid it’s sold out, kids.”
Kris put the magazine back on the rack and walked out the door. Matt followed him to the car, where Kris climbed into the passenger seat.
It seemed risky to turn on the radio, so they drove most of the way in silence.
“Thanks,” Kris said softly. “Thanks for not asking am I alright and do I want to talk. And for not saying it’s, like, so great or something that he’s really a big rockstar.”
Matt nodded. “Sure thing, man.”
When they got home, Kris disappeared into his room. He had a few hours before he had to be at work, and he felt tired. He tried to clear his mind and think of anything but Adam, but it was useless, so he finally gave in and pulled out his laptop. He only had to type the letters “ad” before “Adam Lambert Twitter” appeared. The most searched-for Adam in the world.
650,000,000 results.
Kris clicked on the first youtube video and watched Adam Lambert win American Idol after singing a god awful song about mountains and hurricanes as confetti fell all around him. He watched old footage of Adam Lambert covered in gold body paint and surrounded by fire, shaky fan videos of concerts, music videos from songs Kris had heard on the radio. He watched Adam Lambert fronting for Queen. His singing voice was superhuman. Kris’s cheeks burned as he remembered singing to Adam over the phone.
Kris watched him charm talk show hosts and radio DJs, unfailingly articulate and confident. His voice was achingly familiar when Kris closed his eyes.
“Why did you lie to me?” Kris asked the screen. “Was it a joke?” He felt an awful stinging feeling spread through his chest at the thought of Adam amusing himself by toying anonymously with people on the internet. “Jerk,” he whispered, just to try it out, but it didn’t fit right, didn’t make sense.
When it was almost time to leave for work, he sat and stared for a while at the bedside table drawer. He really wanted to just leave his phone in there, but he thought of how worried his mom would be if she left a message that went unanswered.
When he opened the drawer, the phone looked surprisingly innocuous. Clearly it had no idea of its importance.
Four missed calls from number blocked. Three voice messages.
Kris’s hand trembled as he pressed play.
Hey, Kris. I tried to call you last night, but you weren’t there, so. Hey, listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. Tell you something. It’s, um. Yeah, so give me a call when you can, ok? Talk to you soon. Oh, I’m at the airport, but leave me a message if I can’t answer and I’ll call you when we land. Ok, ‘bye.
Hey, me again. Home sweet home! Listen, I don’t want to be...it’s just pretty important for me to hear from you, that you’re alright and everything. I mean, I’m sure you are, but when you get a minute, call me, ok?
The last message was left an hour ago. Kris could make out strains of music in the background.
Kris. Listen, Kris, I think I know what’s...why you haven’t gotten back to me. Maybe. Or maybe it’s not...I mean maybe you lost your phone or something, I don’t...Kris, if it’s what I’m thinking, please let me explain everything. And if it’s not, you’re probably thinking I’m crazy right now, and that it’s something really awful, but it’s not. Or it doesn’t have to be. Fuck. Just, call me back? Please? Please.
Kris contemplated the time, 8:12, before he sent a text message: I figure you’re on stage about now. I wanted to tell you I’m alright, but I won’t be calling. I hope you understand.
He put the phone back in the drawer and went to work.
***
Matt was playing the first set that night, and Kris talked him into taking the second as well.
“Seriously, man?” Matt asked. “You’d rather barback?”
And he would. Hours of lugging boxes of wine and restocking glasses sounded far more appealing to him than holding it together while playing love songs for an audience.
He threw himself into the work, scrubbing down the bar, washing glasses, filling the wells with ice. He kept his head down, and at first he didn’t even notice the commotion. But when Ally stopped singing mid-song, he looked up from the limes he was prepping.
“Come on!” Ally was saying as she pulled someone into the kitchen. Michael, the good-natured manager Matt jokingly called the bouncer because of his impressive size, stood with his arms crossed in front of the door.
“You guys aren’t out of here in thirty seconds, I call the cops,” he was saying to two men holding large cameras. “That means out of my bar and out of my parking lot.”
While Kris was still processing this, Matt grabbed his arm and steered him through the side door and into the storage room. He heard the click of the lock as Matt left.
Kris stood staring at the door, lime in hand. He heard an intake of breath and turned around, and there...was Adam Lambert. Of course he was.
He was wearing a t-shirt with a sparkly tree on it. His hair was mostly covered by a knitted cap, and his eyes were hidden behind large, dark glasses. When he took the glasses off, Kris could see the most beautiful blue eyes surrounded with shimmering blue and violet shadows. Unable to bear the weight of those eyes, the intensity of the gaze, Kris looked down at the lime he was still holding. He dug a thumb into the pulp.
“Please don’t be mad.” Adam’s voice sounded lighter in person. Kris thought of a crystal.
“Why would I be mad?” Kris asked the lime.
“Because I showed up here when you didn’t want to talk to me. And because I let you think things about me that weren’t true.”
“Why did you?”
Adam stood quiet for a while before he answered. “It wouldn’t have been the same. You wouldn’t have thought of me the same way.”
Kris raised his head and fixed his eyes on a spot over Adam’s shoulder. “Well, I’m not thinking of you the same now, am I.”
Adam flinched. “No. No, I guess you’re not.”
”It’s not about what you do. it’s not about what you look like or don’t look like.”
“I know. I know that. But. I wouldn’t have known. People are usually too busy looking at me to see me.”
Adam moved a step closer, and Kris could smell him, clean and exotic like green tea. He closed his eyes and rode the waves of Adam’s words. “Kris, everything essential you know about me is true. Everything. And one way to think of it is that now, you know more things that are true, that’s all. Just things to add on, like I know there are a million more things I can learn about you. And I know some of it might not be what you expected. Might not be what you want.” His voice broke a little. “But please give me a chance.”
Kris felt Adam’s warm hand on his cheek, and Adam’s breath feather-soft against his temple. “Will you look at me?” Adam whispered.
Kris did. He opened his eyes and Adam was right there, with hopeful eyes and care lines on his brow and a stray piece of glitter just above his lip.
There was a light tap on the door before it opened. A pair of doe eyes partially obscured by pink hair peered in.
“Oh, hey,” he grinned when he saw Adam. The grin grew even bigger as he took in Kris standing so close to Adam. “I’m the one who found you,” he said to Kris proudly. “Fuck, there’s a lot of piano bars in LA. Hey, sorry Adam, but we gotta split. Word’s out you’re here, Ed’s real pissed, and--”
The door was yanked open all the way, and a flesh mountain was scowling at them. Kris instinctively moved closer to Adam, who immediately wrapped a protective arm around him.
“It’s okay,” Adam soothed. “This is Ed. He’s with me.”
Kris nodded. Bodyguard. Of course. He started to move away, self-conscious now, but Adam gently pulled him back. “I have to go. I wish I didn’t.” Adam looked pointedly at Tommy and Ed, who moved a respectable distance away. Adam leaned down and whispered into his ear anyway. “Please don’t give up on me, Sirk.”
And then Kris was alone in the storage room, his cheek tingling with the memory of Adam’s kiss.
***
Adam was sitting alone on his deck watching the last sliver of moon and thinking of the way pineapple Lifesavers pointily vanish on your tongue when the phone buzzed.
“Awake?” asked the screen.
Heart pounding, Adam sent back, “You know me.”
The phone rang and Adam answered with an inspired, “Hi.”
“Hi. Sorry it’s so late.”
“No, that’s--I’m just so glad.”
“My phone was at home, and I didn’t know your number, so.”
“Kris. I’m so sorry that--”
“No. Don’t. I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry. It just makes me feel bad when people are sorry.”
Adam waited, unsure.
Kris continued. “I just need to know, was it ever just a joke for you?”
“No. Kris, I promise, it was never, ever anything like that.”
“Okay. I believe you. I’m sorry I had to ask.”
“I don’t blame you. But Kris, I swear. I wish I could think of a less lame way to say I never meant to hurt you. I’ll never hold anything back from you again. If.”
The “if” hung between them for a long moment.
“So no more saying you’re fat. Because seriously, Adam.”
“That’s...gonna be--”
“Non-negotiable.”
Adam felt his grin all the way down to his toes. “Persistent.”
“When it’s something I really want.”
The “want” hung between them for a moment before Kris continued. “Is tomorrow still good for you? I made reservations for seven o’clock.”
After they hung up, Adam sent Kris a picture of the moon from his house. In the morning, there would be an answer, and then pretty soon it would be seven o’clock. And seven o’clock was perfect.
Epilogue