Kept Man: Firsts and Forever Stories

That was actually pretty accurate. I chewed my lower lip for a few moments, and then I found myself asking, “Do you happen to have his brother’s contact information?”

Willa immediately got excited. “Of course I do. Hang on.” I could hear her clicking on a keyboard, and then she said, “I’m going to give you three numbers, you ready to write them down?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

After she recited the numbers for Arlen’s agent, publicist, and assistant, I thanked her and she asked, “Does this mean he’s actually considering a reconciliation, because—”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“But do you know how huge that would be, Jasper? Every major network, streaming service, and news outlet would get into a bidding war to host their reunion, and—”

I interrupted her again. “No, that’s not going to happen. I was asking as his friend, not his assistant. I just wanted to be sure he had a way to reach Arlen, if he ever decided he wanted to do that. And if he did, this would be a private moment between brothers, not a spectacle for public consumption. I need to be very clear about that.”

“Yeah, okay. I get what you’re saying. Baby steps, right? Anyway, I should run because I need to get to an appointment, but please stay in touch, Jasper.”

I promised I would, and after we ended the call I sighed and slumped in my chair. Then I tore the sheet of phone numbers off the notepad and stuck it in my pocket. I’d definitely overstepped by asking for that contact information, but when the timing was right, I still wanted to bring up the subject of getting in touch with Arlen.

It was just too heartbreaking to think of Micah all alone in the world once he left San Francisco. I hoped with all my heart I’d still be a part of his life after January second, and what he’d said today about coming to see my (still totally hypothetical) student art shows had made me feel optimistic. But no matter what happened with us, his relationship with his brother was important. I wanted Micah to be a part of a family again, because he desperately needed a support system.

But I didn’t know how to bring it up, so for now I’d just put away those numbers and look for an opportunity to slip it into the conversation. His relationship with his brother was obviously a sore subject and I really didn’t want to upset him, so this had to be handled delicately.

A little while later, Micah returned to the office, dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk, and muttered, “Boseman’s gone.”

“Want me to join you in the bar?”

“I don’t think I’m going to resort to day drinking today, both because I’m trying to get my shit together and because he was less harsh than usual. I can’t say he was kind or supportive, but he definitely approves of the volunteer work I’m doing with the teens at the shelter. He said when he signed off on me giving guitar lessons over video chat, he thought it was a ridiculous idea, but I’m actually proving him wrong. I never thought I’d hear those words come out of his mouth.”

“That’s fantastic!”

He sighed and muttered, “I hate the fact that Boseman’s sort of become this father figure, and that I’m seeking his approval. I also hate the fact that it means a lot to me when I actually receive it.”

“Maybe he’s not such a bad guy after all.”

“That remains to be seen.” He shifted position and asked, “So, what did my publicist want?”

I told him about the Rolling Stone interview, and then I added, “She thinks it’s important.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll do it. I’ll message her later and let her know.”

“She mentioned your cellphone is going straight to voice mail.”

He got up and said, “Yeah, I hadn’t bothered to charge it. You’re the only person I want to talk to, and you’re right here.” I grinned at that and followed him out of the office.

Ash and Wes were joining us for dinner that evening, so Micah and I worked side-by-side to prepare several dishes from the Thai cookbook I’d bought him. We went with a spicy shrimp soup, a green papaya salad, a red curry, and a rice dish, and all of it smelled incredible.

I loved the fact that Micah had gradually gone from wanting to cook every meal to letting some of them be a team effort. It made me feel like I was home, instead of being a guest here.

Not that I was much of a cook. I spent about ten minutes chopping an onion, and then I got distracted by the full-page color photos of Thailand in the cookbook. Micah pulled me out of my daydream by asking, “Have you ever been?”