Date: Sun, 19 Nov 2023 01:37:16 +0000 (UTC)
From: Don Cornelius <doncornelius69@yahoo.com>
Subject: Heartbeat Chapter 12

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Chapter 12

ZACH

Tate plays with his hair when he's thinking. Whether he's absorbed by a
movie or a math problem, he pulls down curls on the left side and twists
them around on his finger. I don't think he's really aware he's doing it,
it's just something natural to him and it's unbelievably cute as he's
focused on something, head tilted and thick lips slightly parted.

I first noticed it as we got to know one another. He did it at the
restaurant on our first date while he looked the menu over, again at his
house that first week when looking through tiktok videos. I've seen him do
it a hundred times or more and it was now so well known that some of our
friends pantomime him doing it for laughs.

Today he was doing it as he read the notes about the next interview on the
list, an entertainment reporter for a CBS affiliate in Boise. He was almost
a week into the interviews and it seemed to be going well, the few early
jitters had dissipated and now it was simple grind it out time. He glanced
over at me and winked.

"Just one more after this and I'll be done," he said with a smile.

"It's fine. I'm actually enjoying it!"

He laughed, "Me performing?"

"Yeah, it's sexy."

At that point the timer began. "Hang on, let me knock this out," he told me
as he straightened up and looked directly into the camera. He took a moment
to adjust his earpiece, an in-ear Bluetooth device that looked like a
hearing aid.

At 5 seconds, the timer stopped and the connection was established. At that
point he was all ready to go and at one second a little green light
appeared in the lower lefthand corner of the screen showing that they were
now live, the feed bifurcated to the station and the studio.

I only got to hear his side of the interview, but I knew from his answers
what was being asked. His answers were the almost the same every time,
well-rehearsed and cleared by the people in studio public relations. His
delivery was flawless. A wide and endearing smile that carried into the
eyes, framed by lips glistening just so, as if he'd recently used his
tongue to wet them, filled out with his beautiful white teeth. To see him
like this, you'd think it was effortless. You'd never know he was wearing a
thin base layer selected to match his skin tone perfectly. I didn't think
he really needed to go through the trouble, but he insisted and having seen
the finished product on a broadcast, I had to agree with him. When combined
with his high cheekbones, strong jaw, lively blue eyes, and blond hair, the
effect was complete, a perfectly beautiful man that would lure people into
a dark theater to see him in his first movie. And all the work appeared to
be paying off.

The studio was planning a screening for a select group of journalists and
critics the week before Cannes in LA. They were going to see the movie and
nothing else, no Q&A and no dinner and drinks with the cast and
director. Despite the lack of entertaining, the uptake had been close to
90%, almost everyone invited had said they would show up. People were
eagerly anticipating the film the studio had spent almost nothing to
finance. It seems often like they were putting more into communications
than they did into the movie. Studio PR was sending him daily critiques of
his interviews, something he really enjoyed reading and ridiculing.

"Kayla, it's been a pleasure. Thank you!" I heard him say, finishing his
interview. He waited, smiling, until the green light flipped to red, then
looked over at me.

"Where do you want to go for dinner? That place in Millbrae?"

I sat there, mouth slightly agape, in awe of him. He'd done all this prep,
had the interview, then looks over at me when it's over and asks where
we're having dinner.

"Uh, yeah, if... if you want," I replied while trying to get my phone out
of my pocket.

He laughed, "You OK? You seem a little out of it?"

"I'm good. Prep for your next while I make a reservation."

I quickly found the place in an app and got us a table for 7pm. Thursday
night had become our date night, the one night of the week we absolutely
couldn't stay in unless one or both was sick. It was a little bit of
consistency on which I depended and was glad he accepted.

The past week had gone remarkably well for him and I was pretty excited
with each passing day about Cannes. I was also excited about the resumption
of Dereks trial which was supposed to start back up on Monday. Though Derek
was still pretty hurt from his `accident', he apparently was now well
enough to sit up in a chair for at least a few hours at a time. I chuckled
at the memory. We'd told people at school what happened, leaving out my
role in his accident, but Chels and Ben had figured it out easily.

"He `had an accident'?" Ben asked, smiling, with the air quotes and all
while Chelsea stood there snickering.

I tried to suppress my smile, "Yes, he had an accident. That broke a few
ribs and bruised his heart and a kidney."

"Fuck, man, that's awful!" Chels said, laughing. "I'm just glad nothing
happened to his face. It's like that time in ninth Ben got into a fight
with that junior and your only advice was not to fuck up his face."

"Chels, you're right! It IS like that," Ben responded, also clearly amused.

I didn't break. I kept the same low-key smirk I'd had since they pulled me
aside, "It's not weird, he just tripped and fell a few dozen times It's a
shame, really, that he was so clumsy. Personally, I think it was
intentional to delay his trial."

At this point, even Tate started to laugh.

I started to walk off and they trailed behind me. It didn't matter what I
said, there were two people who knew the truth without actually knowing the
details because they knew me. I had two years to sweat the statute of
limitations on assault in Texas and until it was up, there would be no
direct admission to anyone, other than the one person I trusted with my
life.

 I'd told him after our second date that I loved violence and it was
true. I enjoyed not only the act of beating Derek, but, even now, the
memory of it. People like Tate don't get how good it feels to punch someone
and feel something inside them break. He'd freak out and probably
apologize. To me, that's just letting someone know I'm there to fuck them
up. I don't feel bad about being a bully because I'm not. I'm just a guy
calling in your debt and if I'm hitting you, you've earned it.

Thirty minutes later we were done and out the door, heading to Millbrae in
his car. We didn't talk much on the drive, I just held his hand and
relaxed, happy to be with him. The restaurant was in what passed for
downtown and really good, a Mediterranean-Japanese fusion place that really
worked. We ate and smiled at each other, with the occasional passing
comment. It was nice and someone watching us might have guessed we'd been a
couple longer than we have. It felt like we'd evolved.

I paid and we left to head back to his house. At this point, neither of us
was really all that wound up about school, but he did have to be up at 5
for morning television on the East Coast. Tomorrow he was doing an
interview live on Today, which he was excited about because the studio
people told him it would be a good audience.

We spent about an hour on the couch, watching TV, so he could wind down,
then I took off after giving him a kiss that made him weak. Ever since we
got back from Texas, I'd felt better. Something clicked in me when we were
there and I felt completely confident with him. I was back to myself,
something Chelsea and Ben had noticed and been pleased with. Tate had
noticed it and was unbelievably even more relaxed with me now than
usual. It made me laugh since I'd been so worried, when we started dating,
about how he'd feel if I beat the crap out of someone. Now that it had
happened, it had done nothing to worry him, quite the opposite. He was, if
anything, less nervous with me and it made me realize I'd been stupid to
have ever worried. He'd no physical fear of me from the moment of our first
meeting, when I shook his hand gently.

No, Tate's only concern had been emotional because he felt, even from the
beginning, he was ill equipped to be with me, that I would dominate him. He
trusted me not to based on nothing but my words and blind faith. That faith
had turned me into the man I was today.

When I arrived home, I got sucked into a game with my brother, appreciating
the time I was able to spend with him that I wouldn't have in the
future. He and my little sister were like a compact unit and I was happy
they had each other, yet always made room for me. It was different for us,
since I was supposed to be the last and they were oops babies. Neither of
them really remembers Darren living at home, it had been so long ago.

"Dude, you need to get on my level," he told me at one point, making clear
that my play was subpar.

I laughed, "Quit talking shit, bitch."

"You're the bitch, you fucking loser!"

Which went on for a while as we trash talked each other until he finally
overwhelmed me and won.

I had hoped I'd become a better role model for him than Darren was for
me. At the very least, I hoped Tommy hadn't lost his cherry yet. He was a
good-looking kid, and I knew the path that could lead down. There are some
things that definitely came too early for Darren and I, things I hoped he'd
grow into more naturally, and sex was at the top of that list. I'd answered
questions for him almost two years ago, since my father could be really
cold and mechanical on the subject, but I didn't know if he'd left team V
yet. I also talked to him about waiting and I think I got through. Either
that or he just wasn't as horny as Darren and me. We had talked a lot about
Tate and I hoped I'd impressed upon him the importance of waiting for
someone who meant something to him.

TATE

Studio PR is the FBI. They had a tap on everything I did and promptly at
6:30 every night, a critique sheet. It wasn't all bad, some of it was
actually complimentary ("We loved the sweater you were wearing this
afternoon") but a lot of it was bitchy ("shorten your vowels, you sound
like a hick at times"). Out of each sheet, there were probably 2 items I
found genuinely useful, like using an eyelash comb before I sat down to
work. As much as I didn't like the rigidity of it, they were on top of
everything and the interviews ran with the precision of a Swiss watch. Not
a day passed when we were off schedule and their details were unsually
accurate.

I got through the first full week and then got excited that weekend about
Monday. Derek's trial was going to resume and I was eagerly anticipating a
conviction. I also wanted to hear from Eddie how well he appeared to be
healing from his Zaching. I can't take credit for that, it was Aaron. "You
know, beating just doesn't describe what Zach put him through. We should
all it a Zaching!"

Of course, I said something to Zach when Ben was in earshot and `Bruiser
delivers a Zaching' became a thing.

It's weird the stuff that sticks with you, like the way Zach looked
immediately after he'd Zached Derek. I've never had a moment when I wasn't
attracted to him, but I have had moments that were more intense than others
and that was the most intense. All the conflict and worry in him, about
Derek, about me, about me learning that he likes to fight, came out that
night and was replaced by an intoxicating blend of courage, tenacity, and
pure confidence. I guess you could call is swagger, and it was so fucking
sexy. It had also had an unreal effect on our sex lives.

He'd been dominant before but now it was like something had been turned ON
and it was unbelievably hot, especially when he just took control and moved
me. There was really nothing like it and I'd been lucky enough to
experience it again since we'd returned. I only made it 45 minutes that
time, but I was completely relaxed for days. The studio even commented how
well I'd done the next morning, specifically on the quality of my
smile. `Goddamn right that's a quality smile. Zach worked hard to put it
there,' I thought to myself after reading the comment.

The Studio PR people were irritating but I naively felt like I could handle
them. They weren't interested in me in any context other than the movie. I
mentioned it to Ben at one point and he started laughing.

"Do you pay them?" he asked me.

"No?" I quickly replied.

"Then why are you expecting them to be interested in you? Lookit, they're
working on earned media for the movie and you're a tool to that end for
them. Other than that, they'd gut you like a fish."

"Jesus, Ben, brutal metaphor."

"It's true. PR people aren't sweet, they're demons. Their entire lives are
unpleasant, working in the nasty part of an ugly business. Sometimes that
comes out badly and they decide on a sacrifice."

"Even if I'm completely cooperative," I asked.

"Sure. You're an easier mark then. Your problem is you're pretty and some
of them don't like that which makes you an even tastier teardown. What you
need is a demon of you own."

"I need a publicist?"

"Yeah, you do. I got a guy. He actually asked about you when he found out I
was repping you."

"I can't afford that," I told him, exhausted.

"Staaaaahp, you've got money coming in from the movie in a month. You need
this, trust me."

I sighed, "OK, set it up."

I was actually worried about the money. I had no idea how much a publicist
would cost but I'd already figured out that with college and living
expenses, I'd have to cover about $7,000 a month. I had money saved and
more coming in, but I was still worried. Now, I'd need a publicist. I
talked to my mother and she found a CPA firm that would take care of this
and help me, so I could concentrate on work and school. She also pointed
out that while I couldn't quite yet cover my expenses from earnings off the
money I'd saved, I was close and the incoming cash I had would definitely
help. She admonished me not to worry, which helped kill a lot of the
anxiety I'd been feeling.

The publicist, a guy named Jimmy Rice, flew up from LA and met with me
after school on Thursday at a Starbucks close to SFO. He was lean and
attractive, tall and hard. He was a good-looking guy but you could feel
that he could easily become the most malevolent person you'd ever
encounter.

I walked up and he stood, extending his hand to me and saying it was nice
to meet me.

"Thank you, and thank you for taking the time to fly up here."

He smiled, "Yeah, Ben told me you were still in school and I figured it
would be easier."

"Have you worked with him long?"

"Just for the few years we've had mutual clients. Look, I know this is all
new for you so let me tell you what I do. I handle how the media perceives
you. I handle your interview requests and gossip. I'll also handle your
social media and make sure people always see what you and I want them to
see. I'll also cut down anyone who tries to fuck with my work."

I looked at him, "It really is that brutal, isn't it?"

"Ben told you a little, but I'm telling you the rest. As much as people
want to build you up, there are those who will want to tear you down. If a
Producer, or anyone really, doesn't like you because you turned down some
bullshit project they were pushing? They'll try to plant stories about your
out-of-control drug use."

"Fuck."

"That's amateur hour. There are things far worse, like the trolls who want
to tear you down just to do it. You and Zach will be obvious targets for
them."

I smiled, "You don't have to scare me, I was on board with hiring you after
my conversation with Ben. You didn't even need to fly up."

"I meet all my clients personally before I take them on, I want to know
them. Early on, and it'll come especially if Love Story is big, there will
be some negative press. With your permission, I'm not going to just blunt
it, I'm going to specifically go after the people spreading it in such a
complete way they will have problems finding a job."

I winced; I couldn't help it. He was Zach, but for some reason his casual
attitude toward violence made me uncomfortable. This was a man who was
accustomed to making things so publicly miserable for people they
contemplated suicide.

I cleared my throat, "Is that necessary?"

"Yes. You throw hard and very visible punches to let people know that while
you may be new, you're ready to fuck people up when they come for you. It
makes it clear right out of the gate, you're a fucking pro."

My voice broke, "But I'm not. I'm nervous as hell right now just talking to
you because you honestly scare the hell out of me."

He smiled and winked, "You will be a pro. How you're feeling is natural
because all this is new and you're finding out that the world is full of
violence." He leaned closer to me, "I'm not just the boogeyman, I'm also a
knight. I'm here to protect you."

"I can feel that. Look, you tell me what I need to do. We're far from the
point where I'll ask questions or make suggestions. I'm in your hands."

He smiled, "No press, other than what you're required to do for the
contract, you don't talk to anyone, just refer them to me. I'll send over
an engagement letter and contracts, then I'll update everyone that I
represent you. I'll need your social media logins and for at least the next
month, anything you want posted you'll send to me."

"OK,"I said, nervously. That finally made him lean back and relax a little.

"Kid, you're safe now. There's no reason to be nervous."

I smiled, "I believe you; just need some time for the emotional me to catch
up to the intellectual me."

"Yeah, but I've seen some of the media work you've done. You're great at
it. I mean we've still got work to do, but you really ARE a natural at this
and you're going to be great."

"What about the movie? Ben thinks maybe start doing some press..."

"Not now. Not until the week after Cannes. I'll field the offers and we'll
pick three, maybe four, we like and proceed from there. How public is your
number?"

"It's not at all. Everyone who doesn't know it usually reaches out to me
through the modelling agency."

"Daladier," he asked.

"Yeah, Nina Shelk is my agent."

"I'll talk to her, too. Between her and Ben, I'll get them working with me
and we'll cover you head to toe."

We chatted for a few more minutes, getting to know one another. I also took
time to ask some questions about things I was curious about and I quickly
got comfortable with him. He was an attack dog, a finely trained Belgian
Malinois, but he was mine. We also discussed the fee, which was $3,900 a
month. I didn't even try to negotiate it. The talk with my mother had done
a lot to calm me down and focus in on one thing, hiring the professionals I
would need.

We got up to leave after he sent the contracts to me and I offered to give
him a ride to the airport.

"I appreciate it, but no. I like Ubers. It's the only time I ever get to
ride in a Prius."

I laughed, "My man, are you ever in luck today."

He gave me as much shit about that as Zach did, despite my explanations as
to why I bought it. I also told him I wasn't giving it up. I'd be happy to
upgrade down the road, but I'd really like to get ahead of the expenses and
see some earnings from the movie.

"Yeah, about that. The word on the street is $100mn will be the projected
gross, and that you have a percentage of the that. What did Ben negotiate
for you?"

"3.5% of the gross box office, no cash. Apparently, SAG was pissed I
demanded no money when Ben handled my membership."

That made him laugh, "Yeah, but knowing Ben he beat them handily into
submission."

"He did."

"You're going to do really well and you've got a good team with you. Trust
us, OK?"

"I do. I promise I do."

We shook hands as he got out of the car to head into the terminal. On my
way home I called Zach and then Ben to fill them in on what Jimmy said.

"He's hearing rumors from the studio people. If they're saying 100, it
could be 125, maybe 130."

"Shit."

"Yeah, a lot of it for both of us," he finished, laughing. "You feel good
about Jimmy?"

I sighed, "Yeah, man. I really do. I'd hate to be on the other side of
him."

"Buddy, you don't know the half of it. No one likes killers until they need
one. I hate to bring this up, but we have to talk about this Imdahl
project. I've got them to $1.5mn but the filming schedule has you in
Louisiana for 18 days in June alone, then back and forth during the rest of
the summer. You OK with that?"

"I am, as long it can work with my other commitments. Nina sent you her
schedule?"

"Yes, and we can work around everything she's got mapped out. You'll still
be working Summer Moon when her stuff starts, but we can manage it. Then I
have you clear from August 23rd."

"Great. At least I'll be able to pay the bills," I said, laughing.

"Tate, all kidding aside, if these two do well, this is the last time
you're going to make less than $5 million on a movie. I still wish..."

"Please don't start. Summer Moon is going to work."

"OK, I'll let it go. I'll have updates to you tomorrow."

"Thanks Ben!"

"You got it, kiddo!"

I'd pushed off my afternoon schedule to meet Jimmy, so when I got home I
dove into the interviews and knocked them out, then had dinner with my mom
and talked to Zach again about my afternoon. He was genuinely interested in
Jimmy, thinking of him as more a natural ally than anyone else around me
since he too liked the taste of blood.

The next day, Nina wired me the first half of the money from Rob Lamb. It
was $70,000 after Nina took her cut and I finally let myself relax.

ZACH


The trial resumed Monday, May 1 and Eddie spent the day feeding Tate and I
updates so we had a steady stream of information, laced with Eddies
signature profanity.  The next day, Eddie testified and then Derek. The
judge made some cracks about how good he looked after his accident, which
made me laugh as I read it since I'd been very cautious about marking up
his face. To everyone in the court room, it made him look like the delay
was nothing more than him playing for time.

After that, the judge let the jury deliberate. I was actually a little
nervous about it because Derek had lied about Aaron's testimony which he
characterized as the betrayal of his best friend. He had a bad explanation
for everything, and summed it all up with `I'm not a great person, but I'm
not a rapist!'. I couldn't see the reactions of the jury, but I didn't
doubt his gambit might work.

Tate, on the other hand, was absolutely certain it wouldn't. He saw
something in them, when we were in Texas, that gave him confidence in their
ability to see through Derek's bullshit. And, as it turned out, he was
right. When the trial reconvened that Wednesday morning, after a mere 45
minutes of deliberation, they had a verdict.

Guilty.

The court set sentencing for two weeks and restricted his movements. Tate
was sure he'd run, probably to Mexico or even Venezuela, but that he'd get
caught. Surprisingly, none of that really mattered to Tate, who wore an ear
to ear smile the rest of the day. What mattered to him was that Derek was a
convicted rapist and would have to register as a sex offender for the rest
of his life. This was deeply satisfying to Tate who only ever wanted
that. The validation mattered, even if it wasn't through a trial for his
own assault.

We went back to his house after school and I fucked him into (and tried to
push him through) his bed. Our sex life, until Texas, had been far tamer,
but now I had a better idea of how far I could push him and how much he
enjoyed it. I hadn't thought it possible to improve what we had, but that's
exactly what we did. It was always amazing, but that look on his face
after, the mixture of disbelief and happiness that told me I'd hit it
perfectly, was worth everything to me.

We laid there for about 5 minutes, catching our breath, before he went to
clean up and get ready for his interviews. After he was done, I went in. We
had to separate as the one time we'd tried to clean up together resulted in
an experience that temporarily rendered Tate unable to walk.

I came out of the bathroom and slowly got dressed, listening to his current
interview. His voice was changing, gradually, but obviously. What little
vocal coaching they'd given him had worked and he'd developed a very flat
affect that made you think he was either from the Mid-West. It was also
amazing because I knew as soon as he was done, his voice would turn back to
what I loved, that soft tenor with just a hint of Texas. A voice so smooth
it made me tingle with excitement.

I sat patiently while he did his interviews, just enjoying the time
relaxing and watching him work. He was a professional, absolutely serious
about the job in front of him, deeply aware that his actions reflected on
him and everyone involved in the movie. Most kids our age didn't really
care, but Tate was different. He not only cared, he wanted to excel and it
was really endearing.

"It's been an amazing experience and I'm thankful Davis and Tom took a
chance on me to play Preston."

That was a genuine answer. It had been approved by the studio people, but
it was actually how he felt. His feelings for them were real and well
understood by them. He and Tom were moving forward on another project
together and Davis was looking at something else they could do together
over the next few years. Tate still talked to Davis and Tom a few times a
week, even if it was nothing more than to say hi. As in all things, Tate
had developed the beginnings of a network that would be there for him
through any trial and triumph.

During the final break, I went downstairs to see his mother who'd come
home. She'd started dinner and noticed me when I walked into the kitchen
with a smile.

"Is he still doing the interviews?" she asked.

"Yeah, one more to go."

She smiled, shaking her head just a bit, "I never thought it would be
something like this. I figured he'd work in advertising or marketing, I
never thought in a million years he'd wind up acting."

"What about modelling?"

"I never thought about that, either! This year he'll end up making almost
as much as me doing nothing but standing and wearing clothes!"

I laughed, "Yeah."

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," I told her.

"No, really, what is it?" She had that same smile on her face Tate develops
when he knows there's something there and he's not going to let up. It was
amazing how similar they were at times.

"Oh, OK," I groaned, embarrassed about this. "When we first got together, I
just assumed I'd take care of him, even financially. I knew he had money
put away from modelling, and I figured he'd do that for a few years and
then I'd take care of us both and we'd have a family together. In
hindsight, it's so silly I'm embarrassed."

"Don't be," she said. "That's so sweet Zach and it's sweeter that you
didn't let it become a problem when you realized that wasn't going to
happen."

I laughed, "Well, I actually do feel like I did pretty well on that after
the horrible way I handled other things."

"Like?"

I sighed, "Wanting him to go to Standford, and paying for everything. He
never mentioned any of this?"

"No, he didn't. He tells me a lot, but he doesn't tell me everything. I'm
sure some of it he thought was between the two of you and that it should
stay like that."

I nodded, "Well, I'm happy about that. There were some stupid things I
overreacted to that would have made you think less of me."

She shook her head, "No, that's where you're wrong. Doing stupid things is
part of being human. I think the world of you, Zach, and there's not much
you can do to alter that, especially after your trip to the bathroom in
Dallas."

I felt my face immediately heat up, "He told you?"

She smiled, nodding at me, "He did. Now, come help me pound out chicken
breasts."

I remained relatively quiet as I helped her make chicken piccata, only
chatting just a bit. I was a little shocked he'd shared what I'd done to
Derek with his mother, but I also understood why. What I didn't understand
was why she'd mention it the way she did.

Tate wandered down a few minutes before we put everything on platters to
serve and helped set the table. We sat down to eat as he talked about this
last interview which had been with a station in Dallas and they'd asked him
if he missed Texas.

"What did you tell them?" his mother asked.

He finished chewing, then said, "I said I absolutely did."

"Zach here is shocked you told me about the bathroom."

He looked at me, "Why are you shocked?"

I shrugged, "Less shocked than surprised. It's not every day a boy tells
his mother about the guy his boyfriend beat up."

"Oh, I think it was appropriate in context," his mother said and he nodded
his agreement. "What impressed me was the thought you put into it. What I
can't figure out is what you would have done if someone had walked in?"

"I'd have acted like I was helping him back up. I could have sold it," I
responded.

"And I love you for that!" Tate exclaimed which made me laugh.

"It's the thought you put into it that impressed me, Zach. You're cautious
but you press advantages and it's an excellent quality to have." Then she
turned back to Tate and asked, "When do you start on the next movie?"

"June 5th. I fly to Louisiana the day before and I'm there for 18
days. Then back here until the 5th of the July, then I have a shoot and
then I'm back to Louisiana off and on until the end of August" he said.

"That's not too bad. Why Louisiana?"

"It's where the movie's based."

She looked surprised, "What's the name of it?"

"Summer Moon," he replied, fatly.

"Really? It's based on the book?"

Tate's eyes went wide, "I don't know. Is the book about a guy who gives up
the life he wants to help his family live theirs?"

Beverly nodded her head, "That's it. I read it a few years ago. It's an
absolutely beautiful book."

"You want to read the script?"

"Yeah, I do actually. What part are you playing?"

"Sam."

"Wow. Out of curiosity, what made you decide to take the part?"

Tate sat back and relaxed, "I liked the story. The executive producer is a
friend of Tom's, the producer on Love Story, and she walked me through the
story when I was in LA for the screening. I kind of fell in love with it
and when they were able to accommodate my schedule, I felt like it was
something I had to do."

She smiled, "It is really beautiful story and I think you're going to be
amazing playing him. I'm so proud of you, Tate!"

Tate nodded, blushing, "Thank you. Now I guess I need to borrow the book."

She smiled, "I'll give it you, but don't read it until after you're done
filming. You need to be consistent with the movie."

He nodded, "OK, I can do that."

She turned to me, "Are you going to fly to see him on the weekends?"

"I want to, but someone thinks I might be a distraction when he's working,"
which made Tate laugh.

"He's coming in the 9th for a few days," he told her.

"I am?" I asked. We'd talked about it but nothing had been decided.

"You are."

I turned to look at Beverly, "And now I'm excited!"

After, we cleaned up the kitchen and worked briefly on The List before I
left. The List was all the stuff we'd need prior to the move and who was
buying what. Most of it was Tate since he had very definitive ideas about
how things should look while I didn't. Other than giving a few suggestions,
The List was all him.

We were going to move in the Friday of Memorial Day weekend and wanted to
have everything in place. This next weekend we were going shopping for a
sofa. I was looking forward to it, despite what he seemed to think. My
mother had volunteered the sofa from our house which would allow her to buy
something new. My father protested and Tate quietly declined since he
wanted something different. My concern was fitting comfortably on it.

He walked me to the door, as he always did, and kissed me. He made the
butterflies in my stomach flutter to life and I wondered if this feeling
would ever go away. I knew, intellectually, we'd eventually get used to one
another but I hoped that feeling would be every bit as good as the one I
experienced now.

TATE

The two weeks leading up to sentencing were hell. I talked to Eddie and
Aaron frequently, comparing notes on what we'd been told by the ADA who'd
handled the case. All of it amounted to nothing and served no real point
other than to keep us all agitated. It was also a distraction from `Summer
Moon', which I wasn't doing enough to prepare for and that ratcheted up my
anxiety.

I wasn't a procrastinator and this was unusual for me, especially after my
mother revealed the movie was based on a book. I'd done some research after
and it wasn't just a bestseller, it was on numerous lists from Oprah to
President Obama. That put me into a weird state where I second guessed
everything. While I was learning the script, I wasn't engaging with the
character deeply, it was purely superficial. I just couldn't connect, so I
focused on everything else hoping that I'd feel some spark of inspiration.

Another distraction was my schedule, which had firmed up. By the end of
July, I'd be done with my shoots for Rob Lamb and Prada, and Rxxt, the
small house Nina had decided to book, wouldn't need me until early
August. I was going to be busy, but there were breaks all around and by the
end of it all, after taxes, I was going to be comfortable financially. I
wasn't counting on any money from `Love Story' and while I'd committed to
`Summer Moon', that money was going into savings. I talked about it with
Zach and walked him through what I was thinking since part of us being
together would be financial. We might keep separate accounts, but planning
for our future wasn't something we could do independently any longer.

This was something I knew he'd been thinking about for months. He'd only
admitted things in general, never revealing the specifics of his internal
monologue, but it was enough to let me know what was going on behind his
green eyes. He was surprised when I laid things out for him, saying he
couldn't believe I'd put thought into it.

"Well, of course I did. Babe, I've been thinking in terms of `us', not
`me', for months," I told him.

"No, I mean it's not really you, you know? You've always been more `live in
the moment and be present' is what I mean," he said.

"I may not be ready to buy a house or plan where we'll live five years from
now, but I am ready to think about OUR money and our life together. You're
not a part of me I can just put on hold."

He smiled, "I can't tell you how good that makes me feel to hear you say
that!"

I looked at him, curious.

"What did you think? That things weren't changing? I told you when I was
thinking about doing `Love Story'..."

"Yeah, I remember but I decided last fall to pull back on my planning and
wait until you were ready to really talk about the future," he paused,
clearing his throat, "This IS what I want and I wanted to make sure it was
what you wanted as well."

"There's nothing I want more!"

"Yeah, but this isn't normal, `our first place together' stuff. This is
`our life together' stuff. Are you sure you want me this involved?"

I laughed, "YES! You already were, you just didn't realize it."

That afternoon he got a detailed look over what I'd done, where I had money
and what I had coming in. As I expected, he was impressed and I think a
little staggered.

"You know, I knew you were way ahead but I still had this little fantasy of
taking care of you, that we'd live off what I made. Now, I see all this and
I realize there's a very good chance that just the interest off what you
put away in the next few years will probably eclipse whatever I'm going to
make, no matter how well I do."

I looked at him, "Zach, you know me being with you was never about that."

He smiled, "I know, babe. It was something I felt like I needed to be able
to offer to keep you. It was kind of stupid."

I moved close to him, "No, it wasn't. I knew and it meant a lot to me."

"Really?" he skeptically asked.

"Yeah, it did. There was a night I was studying for a biology test and I
realized what you were thinking. You said, "But I'll take care of you" and
I knew exactly what you meant. You're a protector and a builder. I figured
out the former early on, but the latter took me some time. Now I see it and
it makes me love you that much more because I see the complete man who's
with me and I know he's someone who'll be with me no matter what."

He stood there, thoughtful, for just a bit.

"Are you OK?" I asked.

He nodded his head, "Yeah, but this is a lot to take in, especially that so
much of what I thought I'd kept hidden was perfectly obvious to you."

I smiled, "Now you know how I felt when you disclosed that you were reading
my mind," which elicited a laugh from him.

He grabbed me into a hug and told me, "I feel protective of you, there's
nothing I can do to change that. Part of that was providing a life for you
that was worthy of you. I talked to my dad about it at one point and he
helped prepare me for this, but it's still come as a shock. I'm never going
to be the man I envisioned in your life and while I've been prepared to be
support for a while," which made me laugh, "I was still thinking on some
level I'd be more than just emotional support to you."

I was so overwhelmed I teared up a bit, "You're such an amazing man," I
told him as I reached up to cup his face. "The emotional support is just a
part of who you are to me. This is like when I was trying to figure out a
way to be more for you..."

"Which you didn't ever need to worry yourself over," he interrupted.

I nodded, "Yeah, I know that. You need to know that, too."

He leaned down to kiss me, "I do and I promise I'll get comfortable with
being enough."


ZACH

I was a planner. I got it from my dad and I knew I was unusual for a kid. I
never really thought Tate was except for my first taste of it with `Love
Story'. He was so organized and compartmented things so well that he didn't
miss a beat in his life or school. Now I was seeing it a little more
directly and a whole lot more obviously. By the end of the weekend before
we left for France, he'd bought and scheduled delivery of everything that
was going into the apartment. The only thing we'd bring with us to our new
home were computers and clothes.

I was amazed how well it all came together and how he could hold the vision
of what each room would look like in his head. He needed a little more room
than I, so his office was going in the second bedroom along with a bed for
any guests who may visit. The other bedroom would be ours and there would
be space in it for me to study, though I thought most of it would be
happening in the dining room.

I'd given my input into the decisions which Tate incorporated easily into
what we bought. Well, not so much we as him. He wanted to buy everything as
a gift to ourselves. He had the money and it was important we do it and not
ask anyone else. His need for us to be independent was heartening as it
cemented us together in a way that made me feel fantastic, even if he
didn't fully understand that my money came from a trust that, thanks to my
scholarship, wasn't going to have to pay for school. Granted, I wasn't
nearly as set up as he was, but neither of us were going to be in a
position to need much more from our parents.

Unlike so many of our peers, our life together was clearly started and we
were going to do it on our own.

The Tuesday before we left for France, his afternoon interviews were
cancelled. The screening in LA the previous weekend had gone so well, they
pulled the plug on the rest without explanation. That evening, we went down
to Westfield to shop a little and have dinner. We got a nice little blast
from the past when we saw someone walk past us in a t-shirt that had our
picture on it.

We stopped the guy, who initially didn't believe it was really us. We
finally convinced him by replicating the image which had been taken last
fall. Then we had to find someone with a pen and autograph the shirt before
he'd tell us where he'd found it. He told us a store on Amazon that was
selling all kinds of stuff for gay men, including a t-shirt with that
picture on it, taken by Franklin Simpson. Now we finally knew who snapped
the picture that made us (semi) famous.

Simpon was a freelancer who was shooting pictures of our practice to sell
to local outlets. When the picture blew up on Insta an online retailer
reached out to him and now there was a calendar, postcards, a mousepad, a
t-shirt, and all kinds of other little things wearing our picture. Ben and
Nina were furious.

And I mean FURIOUS until Tate told them to back off. He didn't make a thing
out of it, just quietly bought two shirts for us and sent a letter to both
Simpson and owner of the store that we'd like 10% of the gross and that it
should be donated to Male Survivor. I didn't know anything about it, but it
was a resource Tate had looked into a year ago and had helped him.

Wednesday afternoon we got the news about Derek's sentence. Eddie was kind
enough to forward the Judge's words to us:

"This court accepts the testimony of the eye witnesses, especially that of
his friend who was detailed in his description of a previous attack by the
defendant. I hope, while the defendant is incarcerated, that he will take
advantage of the opportunities afforded him by the State of Texas to treat
his mental health issues and to further his education so that when he
rejoins society, it will be as a contributing member."

Out of 20 years possible, she gave him 10 and fined him the max,
$10,000. Of course, he'd appeal the conviction and the sentence, but it
made us all feel amazing. His mom picked up food and we celebrated the
arrival of justice. More than year after Tate's ordeal, his attacker would
be finally be held accountable.

We ate outside on his patio, laughing and enjoying the warmer weather. At
one point I realized as he talked to his mother that in the fading light of
an excellent day, he'd was never more beautiful.

The next afternoon my mother picked us up from school before the last
period and quickly drove us to SFO for our flight to Nice. We got through
security slowly and barely made the flight since unlike Tate, I was cleared
for Global Entry. Still, we mad the flight and as we relaxed into the seats
we'd be in the for the next 15 hours, I looked over to see him smiling back
at me.

"What?" I asked, smiling back.

He looked at me with glistening eyes, "I'm just really glad you're doing
this with me."

I reached over the divider to touch him, "I'll always be with you, I
promise."

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