Between his increasingly demanding online persona, his new role as pharmaceutical spokesperson, and
the mounting threat of being arrested, Emmett had neither the time nor energy to address his relationship
with Aaron.
It had been limping along for months, held together by occasional sle epovers and the fear that if things
ended badly, both their jobs would be in jeopardy. An undercurrent of unacknowledged tension crackled
beneath every interaction, as if they both knew that one wrong move could bring the whole thing
crashing down. Aaron spent Christmas with his family in New York, and Emmett told his family that
he’d gone with him; in reality, he spent the day at the Castillos’
being force-fed tamales and pozole by Lizette’s mother and tías, wondering if Aaron was equally grateful
for the distance between them. Emmett wasn’t necessarily opposed to quitting the museum. As much as
he’d wanted the job, it in volved far more meetings, admin, and management of his younger team
members’ emotions than actually educating. Aaron had no interest in his ideas for new programming, and
the office politics and gossip were verging on toxic.
Financially he’d be fine. Between his trial payments and his coaching business, he had a decent safety
net, even before his other Monstera money came through. That was another thing he’d need to address
with Aaron at some point: the partnership deal. He didn’t have long. The announcement was scheduled to
go live on Emmett’s Instagram in a few days’ time, and he really didn’t want that to be how Aaron
learned he was on Obexity.
The Thursday between Christmas and New Year’s, Emmett sent a text: Hey, hope you’re having fun with
your family. Do you have a minute to talk?
Aaron called him soon after. There was something unspoken in his tone as they exchanged pleasantries
about their Christmases. “So you wanted to talk?” “Yeah... I just think we should, don’t you?”
“I can’t do this right now, I’m with my—” “When you get back, then. There’s something I need to tell
you. Nothing serious, just—” “I’m back Friday, but I’m having drinks with a friend.”
A friend. Emmett had been his friend once. It seemed like a long time ago now. “Saturday, then?”
Emmett said. “Fine. I’ll text you when I’m home.” Aaron seemed to be avoiding the conversation. He
failed to text when he got back into town and ignored Emmett’s messages until New Year’s Day. Emmett
had insisted they speak in person that night, before their return to the office. The following day was the
big announcement, and he needed Aaron to know before it went live.
Emmett knocked at Aaron’s apartment, five pounds thinner than he’d been before taking his two
remaining doses the previous night. Lizette had made a huge deal about how sickly thin he looked, but
that wasn’t why Emmett did it anymore. Losing weight gave him a feeling of control, of order, a feeling
that recent events had erased from his life.
Aaron opened the door, already awkward. They didn’t hug. He invited Emmett inside and led him into
the kitchen. “All right, let’s talk,” he said, pulling a pair of wineglasses out of the cupboard.
“None for me.” Aaron returned one of the glasses. Emmett’s stomach felt like a nest of fire ants. “How
was your New Year’s?” “Just say what you came here to say,” Aaron said.
“Okay... well. Obviously things have been off between us and I... I just think we need to figure out what
we’re doing, before things get too uncomfortable at work.” “Before they get uncomfortable?”
Aaron uncorked a bottle and filled his glass, not looking at him. Emmett bristled. “Do you want to stay
together?” “Sorry, with you or the Emmett I started dating four months ago?” “Aaron—”
“Don’t,” Aaron said, taking his wine into the living room. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t changed.”
“You mean my body?” “I mean everything.” He sat on the couch, feet on the coffee table. “Your clothes,
the way you act online. You’re like an ‘influencer’ now.” He made air quotes around the word.
“And that’s a problem?” “You act like these people are your friends. You don’t even know them.” “You
don’t really know me, but that’s never stopped you from putting my toes in your mouth.”
“Fuck you,” Aaron said. “Wish someone would.” Aaron’s mouth puckered into a scowl; he slugged his
wine. “You used to like that I was popular online,” Emmett said. “Just be honest about what this is.
You’ve barely looked at me since you saw me in the bathroom that day. You didn’t like what you saw.”
“All right, fine: the loose skin isn’t exactly a turn-on.” Emmett had asked for it, but it still hurt.
“Nothing’s fucking good enough, is it?” he erupted. “You didn’t want me when I was fat, and now I’ve
lost weight and you have a problem with my skin.
Like, sorry, but I can’t just wave a magic wand and be this idealized body. I’m fat, I’ve been fat my
whole life, and there’s no getting away from that.” “Don’t let your followers hear you say that,
‘thetrueme. by. emmett. t.’ ”
Emmett’s gut blazed, Hungering for blood and meat and revenge.
He needed to get out before he lost control, before he did something he regretted. He turned and rushed
out of the apartment.
Appendix W—Facebook Post
News 8 San Diego 223 K Likes • 298 K Followers 1 hr • A jogger r eported finding bloodstained garments
washed up along the San Diego River bikeway. Police believe the items may be connected to the murder
of Justin Matthews, a 36-year-old man found slain in his apartment November 6.