Page 456 - A Little Life: A Novel

“Yeah,” he said. Emil was Willem’s manager. Kit and Emil worked with
each other best when they were united against Willem. When they agreed,
they liked each other. When they didn’t, they didn’t.

“And what did he say?”
“He said, ‘God, Willem, I’m so happy that you’ve finally committed to
someone you truly love and feel comfortable around, and I couldn’t be
happier for you as your friend and longtime supporter.’ ” (What Emil had
actually said was, “Christ, Willem. Are you sure? Did you talk to Kit yet?
What did he say?”)
Kit lifted his head and glared at him (he didn’t have much of a sense of

humor). “Willem, I am happy for you,” he said. “I care about you. But have
you thought about what’s going to happen to your career? Have you thought
about how you’re going to be typecast? You don’t know what it’s like being
a gay actor in this business.”
“I don’t really think of myself as gay, though,” he began, and Kit rolled
his eyes. “Don’t be so naïve, Willem,” he said. “Once you’ve touched a

dick, you’re gay.”
“Said with subtlety and grace, as always.”
“Whatever, Willem; you can’t afford to be cavalier about this.”
“I’m not, Kit,” he said. “But I’m not a leading man.”
“You keep saying that! But you are, whether you like it or not. You’re
just acting like your career is going to keep going on the same trajectory it’s
been on—do you not remember what happened to Carl?” Carl was a client

of a colleague of Kit’s, and one of the biggest movie stars of the previous
decade. Then he had been forced out of the closet, and his career had faded.
Ironically, it was Carl’s obsolescence, his sudden unpopularity, that had
encouraged the rise of Willem’s own career—at least two roles that Willem
had gotten were ones that would once have gone, reflexively, to Carl. “Now,
look: you’re far more talented than Carl, and more diversified as well. And

it’s a different climate now than when Carl came out—domestically, at
least. But I’d be doing you a disservice if I didn’t tell you to prepare for a
certain chill. You’re private as it is: Can’t you just keep this under wraps?”
He didn’t reply, just reached for another sandwich, and Kit studied him.
“What does Jude think?”
“He thinks I’m going to end up performing in a Kander and Ebb revue on
a cruise ship to Alaska,” he admitted.