SuperStar!

Emily Jones was in the kitchen. Her husband had just left for work, and as a stay-at-home mom, she had all the time in the world since her kids left for college. She decided to do some light housework, cleaning up a little before heading to her daughter's room to tidy it. After finishing, she moved to the living room, where she sat down to watch some TV.

As she turned it on, she instinctively went to the entertainment news channel. Ever since her son Ethan became a musician, she'd been glued to these channels, wanting to stay updated on him. She flipped through the first two channels, not finding what she was looking for, but wasn't disappointed when a large picture of Ethan filled the screen. His smile looked tired, and his eyes seemed weary. "That's not a flattering picture. Why would they choose that?" she muttered.

Her attention shifted to the hosts. Three people sat at a brightly lit desk: a white woman in the center, an American-Chinese man on her left, and a Black man on the right.

The white woman spoke first. "And back to our celebrity gossip! Today, we're discussing someone I'm sure you all know—the seven-time Grammy-nominated artist, the man who just sold out concert tickets in every state. Ladies and gentlemen, it's the one-of-a-kind man: Ethan Jones! Mario, what do you have to say about him?"

The American-Chinese man smiled. "What is there to say, Kit? You've perfectly summed it up. The kid is the biggest thing in music right now."

The Black man interjected, "Can we still call him new to the music industry, though? Feels like a slap to other newbie artists, considering he's doing numbers only established stars achieve."

Kit laughed. "Well, we're not here to discuss Ethan's achievements. If we did, we'd exhaust our 20-minute segment. No, ladies and gentlemen, we're here to talk about his love life."

Emily leaned forward, her attention fully captured.

"Or more like his lack of one," the Black man snickered, earning laughs from his co-hosts. Emily's smile faltered.

"Well, sorry to break it to you," Kit continued, "but Ethan Jones, according to our sources, is still very much single. But we have sensational news! Sources close to him say Ethan might be—wait for it—we'll reveal more after this break."

"What?!" Emily shouted at the TV, her frustration building.

After what felt like an eternity of ads, the show resumed with the hosts laughing. Emily's irritation grew.

The Black man spoke, "Alright, enough suspense. As we were saying, our sources suggest Ethan Jones might be gay. Yeah, you heard that right. The newest star might just be gay."

The screen displayed photos of Ethan with his bandmates, smiling and being close.

Kit chimed in, "Now, these pictures show Ethan with members of his band. We don't have concrete evidence, but our sources are confident. It would explain why we haven't seen any romantic scandals from him."

Emily sat frozen, her mind racing. "No, that can't be. I've seen his girlfriends before. My son can't be gay. He can't…" She trailed off, trying to convince herself. "Oh my God, am I being homophobic? No, no, but Ethan can't be gay," she whispered, unsure.

The doorbell rang, snapping her out of her daze. She opened it to find her daughter, Precious, standing there.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Precious asked.

Emily smiled, pulling her into a hug. "My baby! I missed you so much. Come in. How are you? How was school? Are you hungry? Let me—oh, shoot, we're out of food."

Precious laughed as she stepped inside. "Wait, Mom. My friend is coming. He's bringing my luggage."

Emily raised an eyebrow. "Him? Well, I'd very much like to meet him."

Just then, a deep voice greeted her. "Good morning, ma'am."

Emily turned to see a boy who looked massive, muscles everywhere, like a bodybuilder. She was momentarily speechless before regaining composure. "Oh, good morning to you too. I'm Mrs. Jones, but you can call me Emily. How are you? Come in, come in."

Precious introduced him. "Mom, this is my friend, Isaiah. He's a third-year at Harvard Law."

Isaiah smiled, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you, ma'am. Might I say, what a lovely home you have."

Emily beamed. "Thank you, Isaiah. It's an honor to have you here. Please, sit down. You must be tired from the flight."

After settling them in, Emily brought water and said, "I need to run to the store for milk. I'll be back soon. I sent your dad, but knowing him, he'll probably forget and come back with butter or something."

Precious laughed. "I'll go with you."

She turned to Isaiah. "You can stay here and watch TV or something. We'll be back soon."

Emily protested, but Precious insisted, dragging her mother out the door.

In the car, Precious teased, "Why didn't you just text Dad what you wanted?"

Emily smirked. "I do this to prove he doesn't listen. Then he spends the whole day pampering me."

Precious burst into laughter. "You're so evil, Mom!"

Emily shrugged. "By the way, about Isaiah—are you two…?"

Precious blushed. "Yeah, we're dating."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "Wow. I didn't know he was your type. He's so—"

"Huge," Precious finished.

"Black," Emily said simultaneously.

"Mom!" Precious exclaimed, horrified.

"What? I'm right, aren't I? He's Black. I didn't know you liked them."

Precious laughed. "Wow, didn't know you were racist, Mom."

"I'm not racist! My sister married a Black man!" Emily retorted.

Precious laughed harder. "That's not helping your case."

After buying the milk, they returned home to find Isaiah and Precious in the living room, more on their phones than watching TV. Emily headed to the kitchen to make pancakes.

As the doorbell rang, she called, "Precious, get that."

Seconds later, a scream echoed through the house. Emily dropped the plate she was holding and rushed to the door. Isaiah was already there.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Emily asked, panic rising as she looked out the door.

Her eyes widened in shock.