It had been an entire seven days since I’d texted Tyler, and an entire six days since she had sent me a one-sentence reply that shut it all down.
I’m not ready to continue this conversation with you yet and need time to think about things.
So, that was fantastic.
Tonight was the Ambies Awards, and I was holed up on Nia’s couch watching the live streaming of it from Los Angeles on the Amazon Music channel since she had a subscription and I did not.
“Her category is up next,” Nia pointed out, though she wasn’t completely invested in the show like I was. She had her feet up on the couch next to me, a thick throw blanket over her legs, and a Talia Hibbert romance novel in her lap. “It seems like she’d be a shoo-in to win her category.”
My eyes were glued to the screen, and I was frustrated that they didn’t pan over to the audience more often. If they did, I was pretty sure I’d be able to pick Tyler out of the crowd, but I hadn’t spotted her yet. Although to be fair, I didn’t know if they kept nominees backstage part of the time or what the setup was.
Elyse Meyers was currently presenting an award on original scores and the comments scrolling on the right side of the screen were going wild with quoting her quirky and motivational quips.
An X notification popped up on my cell phone screen—or Twitter, I don’t know—and I clicked to read what I’d been mentioned in.
@podcastpetty: @thetyleradams spotted at @ambiesawards without a date? If the rumors are true about her being gay AF, someone should check the closet for her girlfriend!
There were two pictures—one of Tyler in a beautiful green gown on a red carpet at the Ambies Awards alone, and the other was a picture of Tyler and me kissing at the DC Pride Parade with my account tagged in the second photograph. My face was mostly obscured so I wasn’t even sure how they recognized me or who the hell Podcast Petty was, but apparently, they were big fans of Tyler’s show, as well as a few others. The majority of their posts tonight were commentary about the Ambies, and I shouldn’t have, but I clicked the photo and began reading the replies.
@ podcastpetty I thought she was dating that Black girl in the parade photo. Who is that?
@podcastpetty why is everybody obsessed with murder f-ing sickos get a real job
@podcastpetty if Tyler is a lesbian, then give her my number.
@podcastpetty she’s not even that pretty, who cares
@podcastpetty put me in a threesome with both of them and they’ll be loving dick by the next morning
@podcastpetty we stan a celesbian!
@podcastpetty Who is Tyler Adams?
@podcastpetty Are you looking to change your life? Dr. Shaimo gave me an herbal remedy that changed my life, and yours can too. Just click on this link.
Okay, this was getting pointless. The internet was a cesspool of humanity—and I used the word humanity loosely.
“You look like you’re about to punch someone,” Nia’s comment pulled my attention from my phone.
I looked up at her. “People are talking shit online about Tyler showing up alone at the Ambies.”
Nia’s brow furrowed. “Were you supposed to be her date?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, she never asked me. It seems like the kind of thing you’d bring a girlfriend to, but we’re also not really talking right now. I’m not sure if she even still is my girlfriend.”
“She agreed to still do the live recording on your opening night next weekend,” Nia pointed out. “That’s got to say something.”
“Which I only found out through Isa.” I leaned my head back on the couch cushion and returned my gaze to the Ambies Awards on the television screen. “If that’s the next time the two of us talk, it’s going to be a super awkward podcast.”
Nia nodded, looking full well like she did not envy me for a single second. “Did she say anything to Isa about getting off the ownership paperwork for the bar?”
I grimaced. “I haven’t asked her yet.”
Nia’s eyes bugged out of her head, and she put her book down. “Yas, you’re opening in one week.”
Isa and I had toured all the places she’d found, plus three others. We’d lucked out in the best way possible, and I still couldn’t believe it, but we’d found an old diner right by Clarendon Metro that had been closed for over a year. The diner itself had moved locations to another part of Arlington, and the building had just been sitting there the entire time.
We’d ripped out most of the booths and replaced them with high-top bar tables and were currently working on extending the bar to wrap around one side of the diner. The other side we were going to close off for now and later turn it into the hair salon part. There was a huge parking lot out back that we cut down to half size and had tents up for an outdoor area and were working on installing an outside bar.
The license had gone through on the new address, and we were embracing the leftover diner decor on the outside and inside of the building for now. Over the coming months, I’d get a new and better sign up out front and replace the red paneling to be something less obnoxious. But the place had all the bones we needed to open in terms of a working kitchen, table space, and a good-sized bar.
Plus, it came with a jukebox and sound system that we could tap into and revitalize.
“It’s a soft opening,” I reminded Nia. “It’s capped at fifty people and it is only open Saturday night. We’ll open both Friday and Saturday nights the week after that, so even more time to finish everything.”
My sister wasn’t convinced. “Still—you need to talk to her. If you don’t get your money back from the last place, then you’re going to be so far in the hole before it opens that you’ll never dig out.”
“As true as that is, I will talk to her. I just wanted to give her the space she asked for.” A title bar came across the bottom of the screen, and I saw Tyler’s category was up next. “Plus, she probably didn’t want to be distracted before the award show. I’ll text her again tomorrow to follow up. Or maybe get Isa to.”
“Oh, that color works so well on her,” Nia commented as the camera panned to the different nominees in Tyler’s category.
I could now see that she was seated in the left side of the audience and was wearing the same green dress from the photo I’d seen online. She did look amazing. Her eyes were glowing in a way I hadn’t seen before, and I didn’t think it was just the stage lights.
She looked exhilarated and in her element, and this was the part of her I heard when I listened to her podcast. Because I had started listening to her podcast—as in, I’d binge listened to eighteen episodes in the last week.
Keep the judgments—I know, okay?
It had brought an interesting new perspective to Tyler to immerse myself in her creative side, however. She was vibrant as she spoke in a way I didn’t always see in person—or, I only saw glimpses of here and there. It was like she became unguarded with the microphone because she was playing a role. But…it wasn’t really a role. It was still part of her. Specifically curated and chosen parts, but it was very authentically her.
Now seeing her sit in the audience among her peers, I could identify the animation on her face and the hope in her eyes. Someone from Barstool Sports was the presenter for her award and listed off the names of each podcast in excruciatingly slow form. Ironically, they even dropped the envelope halfway through and had to pause to pick it up before they could resume reading the final nominees.
Tyler clapped for the other nominees politely—always the courteous rule follower.
I was sitting on the edge of the couch leaning so far forward my head was practically inside the television screen.
The presenter finally returned to the microphone and cleared his throat. “And the winner for Podcast of the Year is…”
A hush fell over the crowd, and I could hear Nia holding her breath next to me because I was doing the same.
“Tyler Adams of The Deviant Devotee!”
“Oh my god!” I shouted and jumped up from the couch, clapping my hands. I started dancing and swaying my hips from side to side as Nia laughed and offered me a high-five. “She won! She won!”
The excitement was vibrating across my skin like I’d been electrocuted, and I couldn’t stop squirming and moving.
Nia was still laughing at me. “Sit down or you’ll miss her speech!”
The camera panned back to her, and my girl looked shocked as all get out. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly ajar, and it struck me for the first time that she hadn’t thought she’d win. This wasn’t a posed humility for the cameras. She was completely caught off guard.
Something pulled in my chest, and I sat down heavily on the couch. The Tyler that I knew won everything—that was never a question. In fact, it was one of the first things we fought about because she can be an absolute dick about it. But the woman walking up to the stage didn’t look like the confident woman I’d come to love. Something had shaken her, and I couldn’t help but feel guilty for the role I might be playing in that.
Tyler took the award from the presenter among loud applause and stepped to the microphone, her face lit up. “Thank you so much. This is…this is truly incredible. I did not expect this at all. I need to thank my production team and agent at Wondery for all their support in getting me here. But most of all, thank you as well to my incredible father, Walter Adams, who has always supported me not only as a daughter, and a podcaster, but a proud and out lesbian. It’s with his help and guidance that I’m dedicating a portion of the proceeds from the podcast this year to The Trevor Project to assist and protect young LGBTQ lives.”
Excuse the fuck me. I could practically hear a record scratching in my frontal lobe.
“I thought you said her dad was homophobic?” Nia frowned from where she was sitting on the couch next to me.
My gaze panned away from her and back to the screen, and there was no doubt that I was the one with the shocked expression on my face now. “Uh…I…um, he is? He was? She…well, he…”
I literally couldn’t even find my words.
Nia sucked her teeth and lifted her book back up to continue reading. “Damn, you lesbians are more drama than this book.”
I felt like I was living a book plot. I mean, what the actual fuck?
Tyler was waving goodbye to the audience as she finished the rest of her speech and was walking off. I hadn’t even heard anything after the part about her father. In fact, I think I’d partially gone deaf because the irony was ringing in my ears louder than Quasimodo hanging on the damn bell ropes of Rachel’s heart.
“I have to call her.”
Nia didn’t even look up at me over the top of her novel. “She’s three hours behind you and on the other side of the country at an awards show. They probably don’t even let them bring their phone into places like that.”
“Then I’ll get on a plane to Los Angeles,” I said. “I’ll find her hotel and go talk to her.”
Now my sister was getting fed up. “Yasmeen, you will not. Go pour yourself another glass of wine, turn on something else to watch, and go to bed like a normal person. When she comes back to town, then the two of you can talk. You’re not storming across the country because she said she loved her father. What kind of psycho-girlfriend shit is that?”
Fair point. “I’m not mad that she loves her father! I just—okay, a little annoyed—but to give him credit for supporting her queerness all this time? How? When? None of that tracks. He’d literally lose his evil little career if he pulled shit like that…”
My eyes widened and I gasped so loudly that even I felt out of breath.
“What?” Nia looked at me with concern. “Don’t breathe-scream like that, Jesus H. Christ. I nearly fell off the couch.”
“She’s punishing him!” I clapped my hands together and turned to face my sister—grabbing the book from her hands and placing it down on the table in front of us. I then grabbed her hands and pulled her up to her feet next to me, jumping up and down. “She’s punishing him!”
“Ouch! What the hell, Yas?” Nia pushed my hands off of her. “We are not twenty-year-old whoo-hoo girls in a sorority house. Stop jumping around.”
“This is a sign, Nia,” I replied, finally letting go of her and walking over to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of wine. I returned a couple minutes later with a full one. “Tyler knows what her father did and she’s punishing him for it.”
I don’t know why that was making me so emotional, but it was. I could feel the tears choking up in my throat, and I wanted to cry. It felt like an act of kindness, not like she was picking me over her father. Hell, I had no idea where she and I even stood romantically or platonically or business-wise. I literally knew nothing, except that Tyler had spent her entire life being what other people wanted her to be. She kept everything in—her identity, her desires—and I’d seen the pain it had caused her etched into her flesh.
But she was changing the narrative for herself, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed. I needed to talk to her to find out what that meant for me—for us.