I Am the Phoenix by Christopher Stone

Author:Christopher Stone [Stone, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
Publisher: MLR Press
Published: 2020-05-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Late afternoon

Driving the Hollywood Freeway en route to Matt Bomer and Simon Halls’ home in Old Hollywood’s Hancock Park, Minn felt like the king of the world. The sun shining on his face through the windshield added to his feelings of peace, power, and well-being. So, he told himself, I feel like ten million bucks. Life’s good! Everything’s going my way!!!

For one thing, Laura’s agreement to return to work as his office manager had taken a huge load off his shoulders. And then, there was this: Tonight, after months of excited anticipation, HBO was premiering In a Past Life, I… the series based upon his first international bestseller. Minn was high on life, or, more to the point, he was high on his life, causing him to ask himself, Does life get any better? If it does, I don’t know how.

A moment later, the how life gets better hit him like that proverbial ton of bricks. If the estrangement with his parents would finally end, even if they didn’t fully embrace his sexual orientation, then his charmed life would definitely be bettered. Were that to happen then everything in the world of Dr. Minnow Saint James would be coming up roses.

But it was time for him to return his full attention to the road ahead. After slowing down, Minn took the Melrose Avenue exit off the freeway and headed toward his final destination, Hancock Park.

This affluent section of Hollywood was one of the least densely populated areas in America, and it had been home to the Hollywood elite since the days when movies were silent and Beverly Hills was still undeveloped, primarily known for sheep and cattle ranching. Howard Hughes had made his home in Hancock Park, as had Mae West, Nat King Cole, and countless famous others.

These days the ‘hood was still star-studded, and Minn slowed down as he approached the home of the star who, with his husband, was hosting this evening’s party. Never having been to the Bomer-Halls’ estate before, Minn overshot the address. So, he doubled back until he saw the street number for which he’d been looking, painted curbside. Beyond the curb was an electronically-operated, gated driveway. He drove up to the apparatus, pressed the intercom buzzer, and a moment later, he heard Bomer’s honeyed baritone asking, “Minn?”

Surprised, he looked around for a camera. Not seeing one, he asked, “How did you know? Am I on camera?”

Bomer’s laughter came through the speaker. “Who needs a cam? You’re the last to arrive. Come on up.”

With that, the gate swung slowly open. Tentatively, Minn drove up a long, long driveway that ended in a motor court beside the house: a huge brick and clapboard English Country structure.

Only two other cars were in the parking lot-sized court. One was the white Mercedes-Benz AMG GT, belonging to Robin Thompson, Minn’s literary agent. It bore the personalized plate, LIT «.

What the hell’s Robin doing here? Was Minn’s first, uncharitable thought. Then came this humbler one. He’s here because none of this would ever have happened if it were not for Robin.

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