Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series) (26 page)

And what was I
to make of that?

If Alex had
gotten to him—if that even was his intent—what would that mean for
Brock and me?
 
Was this the end of
us?
 
Was it already over just when
it had begun?

The thought of
it would have ruined me if Margaret hadn’t come out of her office and swamped
me with a whole host of directives that consumed the rest of my day.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

Later that
evening, just before the clock struck seven, I somehow managed to finish
Margaret’s impossible list in time, and I went to Blackwell’s office.
 
Throughout the day, I’d checked my email
via my personal and business cells, and had received nothing from Brock, which made
me feel sick inside, especially since I’d texted him twice and he hadn’t
responded.

Had Alex asked
him to choose Wenn over me?
 
I
didn’t even want to think about it.

“I just
finished,” I said when I reached Blackwell’s office.

“And if I do
say so myself, you look as if you could use a Red Bull.”

“Wenn
Enterprises is huge,” I said.
 
“But
I can manage it.”

“As you
continue to.
 
I asked you to be here
by seven, and you’re five minutes early.
 
Once again, you’ve come through, Madison.
 
So, good for you.”

“How can I help
you with the Peachy Van Prout party?”

“Follow me,”
she said as she got up from her desk.
 
“It’s all about getting Jennifer ready.
 
She should be here at any moment.
 
And when we’re through with her, she
needs to shine, because if we get it right, that girl can and should land on
Page
Six
.”

“What time is
the party?”

“8:30.”

“Is it for any
particular event?”

“With
Peachy?
 
God, no.
 
She’s just throwing one of the first big
flings of the summer.
 
But here’s
what matters to Wenn.
 
Peachy and
her husband Robert know everyone in the city.
 
So, when they have a party, Alex and
Jennifer always show, particularly because of something that Peachy once did
for them that I have to say was practically heroic of her.
 
She’s a good woman.
 
But tonight is as much about business as
it is fun, because Alex and Jennifer never know whom they might meet when they
go to a party—and whom they might get into business with because of it.”

“What is
someone named Peachy like?”

“In a way that
I cannot fathom, she is truly something of an authentic peach.
 
She’s wealthy as hell, but for some unknown
reason, she’s remained a genuinely nice woman.
 
In this city and in her crowd, the two
don’t often coexist, but they come together when it comes to Peachy, which I
commend her for.”

“Barbara?” I
heard a familiar voice call out from the hallway.
 
“Are you here?
 
Is Bernie here?”

With that,
Blackwell just rolled her eyes at me as she stepped out of her office and into
the hallway.
 
I joined her.
 
“Do you honestly believe that I wouldn’t
be here for you right now?” she said as Jennifer walked toward us.
 

And as Jennifer
came forward, I couldn’t help but be struck again by how beautiful and chic she
was.
 
She was wearing a simple white
suit with black strappy sandals, and her hair was pulled away from her face in a
way that allowed it to tumble down her back in loose brown curls.
 

When she saw
me, her smile brightened.

“Hi, Madison,”
she said as she gave me a hug.

I remembered
that she’d asked me to call her by her first name when we first met, so I said,
“Hi, Jennifer.
 
It’s good to see
you.”
 
And since I just wanted to
get this out of the way, I decided to expose the elephant in the room.
 
“I’m sorry about the mix-up at the Plaza.”

She wrapped her
arm around my waist and said, “Why?
 
It wasn’t your fault, so I won’t hear another word about it, OK?
 
What Alex and I hope is that Brock and
you had a wonderful weekend together, and that you’ll continue to see each
other.
 
You have our support.”
 

If I have their
support, then why hasn’t Brock contacted me?

She cocked a
thumb at Blackwell.
 
“And you also
have that one’s support.”

“Ms.
Blackwell—”

“Barbara,” she
said, correcting me at once.

“Barbara and I
talked about Brock and a whole lot more for a good half hour.
 
There were some misunderstandings, there
were times when it became heated, but now I feel as if she has my back in ways
that I’d never anticipated.”

Jennifer
glanced over at Blackwell, they arched their eyebrows at each other, and then
Jennifer turned back to me.
 
“Barbara is one of my closest friends,” she said to me.
 
“I consider her the mother I never
had.
 
I love her that much.
 
I’m probably going to catch hell for
saying this, but when you’re just coming to know her, I think it’s fair to say
that you don’t know where you stand with her.
 
And that she can be terrifying.
 
Is that fair, Barbara?”

“It’s actually
rather generous of you, darling.
 
Well said.”

“Madison, what
you should know is that Barbara and I also didn’t exactly start out on the
right foot.”

“An
unadulterated understatement if there ever was one,” Blackwell said.
 
“A dark cloud of poison hovered over us during
those bleak early days.”

“True enough,”
Jennifer said.
 
“And look at us
now.”

“Look at what?”
Blackwell said.

“How close
we’ve become.”

“Define ‘close.’”

“Oh,
whatever.
 
God, you’re
impossible.
 
Stick it out with her,
Madison.
 
You’ll be happy that you
did—and you’ll learn plenty along the way.
 
Not that Barbara needs to hear this, but
she really is brilliant.”

“I’m like a
goddamned black diamond,” Blackwell said.
 

Was I actually
being included in this group?
 
It
appeared as if I was, which took me by surprise, not to mention that it took a
huge weight off my shoulders.
 
Maybe
I
could
work at Wenn.
 
Maybe I could climb the ladder
here.
 
And perhaps even with Brock
at my side—even if things looked dire when it came to that at the moment.

Jennifer gave
my waist a squeeze.
 
“Anyway,
Madison, you are about to witness an illusion of mammoth proportions,” she said
to me.
 
“Bernie is a magician.
 
When he’s finished, you won’t even
recognize me.”

“And thank God
for that,” Blackwell said.
 
“Your
hair alone looks as if an eagle has been nesting in it for the past several
weeks.”

“Please.”

“As in, ‘please
help yourself to some conditioner’?
 
As in, ‘please, somebody help me because my hair has become a horror
show?’
 
Or as in, ‘please, God, if
you’re listening to me right now, could you just toss down a really good wig
for me’?”

“You’re
horrible.
 
And while I’d love
nothing more than to spar with you, Babs, we need to get a move on.”

“Don’t ever
call me ‘Babs’ again.”

“It’s better
than what I’ve called you in the past.”

“True
enough.
 
And just be lucky that I
adore you,” Blackwell said as she checked her watch.
 
“Now, look, ladies.
 
Bernie is already here.
 
As we speak, he’s waiting for us in our
pseudo dressing room.”

“There’s a
pseudo dressing room?” I said.

“It’s that
office over there,” Blackwell said, pointing to a door that had been closed
ever since I started at Wenn.
 
I’d
just assumed that it belonged to someone who was on vacation and the door was
shut because of that.
 
“We’ve long
used it as Jennifer’s dressing room.
 
And at this point, Bernie is probably bored to death when it comes to
waiting for us.
 
So, you know, let’s
kick this up a notch and turn Jennifer into the queen she needs to be
tonight.
 
But first, I need both of
you to listen to me—if only to assuage him, we need to bring energy into
that room.
 
Excitement.
 
Vibrance.
 
Wit!”
 
Her voice dropped a notch.
 
“Anything that will spark his formidable
creative juices, because looking at Jennifer right now, she clearly needs every
ounce of talent if he’s to fix
that
.”

“I look fine,”
Jennifer said.

“Really,”
Blackwell said.
 
“Is that what you
think?”

“How about if
we give Madison some insight into Bernie before the drama begins?”

“Fine,”
Blackwell said.
 
“He has his own
salon on Fifth.
 
Wildly
popular.
 
Everyone who’s anyone goes
to Bernie.
 
That is, of course, if
they can get an appointment.
 
It’s
solely by the grace of God that he even agrees to come to us at all.
 
But he does so because he loves me, and
because for some unknown reason that continues to baffle me, he appears to
adore Jennifer.”

“Hilarious,”
Jennifer said.
 
Before we entered
the room, she said, “Let me tell Madison something that will put everything
into perspective for her when it comes to Bernie.”

“Make it
quick.”

Jennifer
lowered her voice to a mere whisper before she spoke.
 
“Bernie is the one who suggested that
Madonna wear her iconic crucifix when she first started her career.”

“He knows
Madonna?” I said.

“He did when
she was first starting out.
 
He
worked with her during her early days—the crucifix, the Rosary beads, and
her street-urchin look?
 
All of that
was him.
 
It was because of him that
every girl wanted to dress like her when she first hit the scene.
 
It’s something you should know if only
because Bernie is so humble that he’d never tell you any of that on his
own.
 
But Madonna was just the
beginning for him.
 
Many other
celebrities followed.
 
You’re about
to meet fashion royalty.”

“And someone
who has done lines of blow with Grace Jones at Studio 54,” Blackwell said.
 
“And on a gold razor blade,
nonetheless.”

“Now I’m
terrified,” I said.
 
“Madonna.
 
Grace Jones.
 
Coke on a gold razor blade at Studio
54.
 
Now, I’m intimidated.”

“Don’t be,”
Jennifer said.
 
“He’ll adore you immediately.
 
When I first met him, I just wanted to
hang out with him instead of going to whatever party I was going to.
 
You’ll see,” she said as we entered the
room.
 
“I promise.
 
Bernie’s fab.”
 

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

“I’m what?” a
well-preserved, silver-haired man said as we walked into the room.
 
Like Blackwell, he was dressed
completely in black, and he was standing beside a dressing table with an
attached lighted mirror.
 
Looking at
him now, I knew that in his youth, he probably was so good-looking, he’d
weakened many men’s hearts.
 
And
probably a few women’s too.

“Fab,” Jennifer
said.
 

“Just ‘fab’?”

“Beyond fab,”
she said.

“I can get
behind that,” he said as they embraced.
 
And it wasn’t just for a quick second.
 
I saw that there was real meaning behind
the way they held each other.
 
But
then Bernie paused, took a few strands of Jennifer’s hair and rubbed them
between his fingertips.
 
“What
happened to you?” he said.
 
“I just
saw you three weeks ago.
 
Your hair
feels over-processed.”

“It’s like
straw from a barn,” Blackwell said.
 

“I might have run
out of hair conditioner,” Jennifer said.

“It’s more than
that.
 
Since she hails from the bowels
of Maine, where barns abound, it wouldn’t surprise me if cows had defecated in
it.”

“Really,
Barbara?
 
Is that the best you’ve
got for me?”

“That was the
family-friendly version.
 
I could go
on, you know?”

“How about if
you don’t?”

“And how about
if I do?
 
After all, I was about to
say—”

“And who is
this portrait of beauty?” Bernie interrupted them as he turned to me.

“This is
Madison Wells,” Jennifer said.
 
“Barbara’s
new assistant.”

He took my hand
and placed it over his heart.
 
“I’m
terribly sorry to hear that, love.
 
How long have you been working for the devil?”

“The devil my
ass,” Blackwell said.
 
“I’m a gift
from God.”

“A gift that
was meant for the Kraken,” Jennifer said.

“Don’t answer
my question,” he said to me.
 
“It’ll
only get awkward for you if you do.
 
But I must say, Madison, that
you
are something to behold.
 
Look at you.
 
That sharp jawline.
 
Those fluid brown eyes.
 
And your figure—those breasts!
 
Sublime!
 
The things I could do to you if I only had
the chance!”

“Well, you
don’t,” Blackwell said.
 
“So, settle
the hell down before you burst into a rainbow flag.
 
The clock is ticking.
 
Jennifer?
 
Get your ass in that chair.
 
We don’t want to keep Alex or Peachy
waiting.”

*
 
*
 
*

When Bernie
started to work on Jennifer, Blackwell retrieved a bottle of champagne from a
small refrigerator that was across the room and poured each of us a glass.
 
With the three of them all talking at
once, the atmosphere soon became like a party, and as time passed, I was nudged
into the conversation because Bernie had taken a particular interest in me.

“Where are you
from, Madison?” he asked as he started to remove the makeup from Jennifer’s
face.

“Wisconsin,” I said.

“A Madison from
Wisconsin?
 
Are you even on speaking
terms with your parents?”

I giggled at
that.
 
“I know.
 
It’s awful.
 
I hear it all the time.”

“Talk about
cruel,” Blackwell said.
 
“Setting up
a child like that.”

“You know,”
Bernie said while he treated Jennifer’s hair with some sort of lotion, “I once
knew a young man from Wisconsin.”

“Oh, God,”
Blackwell said.
 
“Is this going to
be another one of your sordid little sex stories?”

“I certainly
hope so,” Jennifer said.
 
“I can’t
get enough of them.”

“Depends on
what you consider . . . ‘sordid,’” he said.

“You know what
I mean.”

“Then I’ll let
you be the judge.
 
And besides, what
fond memories Buck brings back to me right now, possums.
 
Memories, my dear, Barbara, are what men
like me eventually have to fall back on.”

When he said
that, she put her fingers to her lips.
 
“Your fruit hasn’t dropped from the tree just yet,” she said.
 
“It’s still there.
 
Still ripe.
 
Still ready to be plucked when the right
man comes along.”

“The hell it
is,” he said dramatically.

“But it is.”

“I already know
that it isn’t—and after several years of drinking martinis alone by
myself in the dark, I’ve since come to terms with it.”

“But you
mustn’t give up—ever.
 
There
is someone out there for you, Bernie.
 
I know it in my heart.
 
My
soul!
 
You’re too special not to
find love again.”

“Once I was
special,” he said.
 
“You
know—in that certain kind of way that paved the way to my getting
laid.
 
But at this point in my life,
the dew has long since fallen from my lily.”

“
Je ne suis
pas d’accord
.”

“
Je suis un
vieil homme. C'est ce que c’est
.”

“Anyway,”
Jennifer said, ending their overblown banter with a bang, “who in the hell is
Buck?”

“A cowboy from
Wisconsin,” Bernie said.
 
“I met him
at the Mineshaft back in the day.
 
He’d just graduated from university, and he’d come to Manhattan to stake
his claim in more ways than one.
 
This was back in the early eighties, Madison, long before you were even
a pearl in your parents’ eyes.
 
But
what a passionate love affair Buck and I had, even if it did last only for a
few hours during one heated evening.
 
I can remember the night we met as if it were yesterday.”

“What were you
wearing?” Blackwell asked as she sipped her champagne.

“Back then, it
was all about leather.
 
So I wore a
black T-shirt, tight Levi 501s, a cock ring, no underwear, and black leather
boots.”

“You did not
wear a cock ring,” Jennifer said.

“Oh, but I
did.
 
Everyone did.
 
Back then, it was all about the bulge,
sweetie.
 
You know, before everyone
started wearing their pants halfway down around their asses, and thus denying
the world the opportunity to see their junk.”

When Bernie
said that, my thoughts flashed back to a few days ago, when Brock had entered
Wenn Fitness in his own tight 501s.
 
With that delicious image forever burned into my memory, I knew exactly
what he was talking about.

“But back to
Barbara’s question—I pretty much wore what people were wearing at the
time, but because even then, I couldn’t bear the thought of looking like
everyone else, I probably also had on a full face of makeup and a trace of
eyeliner—not that anyone could ever tell, because I’m that damned good.”

“Tell us about
Buck,” Blackwell said.
 
“Even though
the thought of what’s coming makes me feel itchy.”

“Then get ready
to scratch,” he said as he started to comb out Jennifer’s hair.
 
“Because what we had was nothing short
of a sizzling five-hour love affair.
 
I was about twenty-eight when I first met Buck—and yes, I realize
that I’m giving away my age, not that I give a damn—and I have to say that
what we had between us was magical.
 
I can see it now.
 
There I
was leaning against the bar trying my best to look as butch as
possible—which often was mission impossible for me.
 
Still, I did have my bag of tricks, and
I used them that night.
 
I learned
that if I just kept my mouth shut and stood perfectly rigid, I could pass for
something close to butch.
 
After
all, I was built like a brick back then—and Buck noticed it at once.”

“Tell us
everything,” Jennifer said.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Then gird your
loins, girl, because Buck, much like his name suggests, was nothing if not
aggressive.”

“Goodness,”
Jennifer said as he started to blow out her hair with a dryer.

“Goodness had
nothing to do with it.
 
Buck was a
raw cowboy who hailed from the wilds of the midwest.
 
He wore faded Levis like mine, but he’d
adorned them with black leather chaps, which were enough to make me catch my
breath.
 
And then there was the lasso
he’d attached to his belt on his left hip.”

“A lasso?”
Blackwell said.

“That’s right,
Barbara.
 
Buck had a lasso.
 
And he wore no shirt, thus revealing to
everyone in that club exactly what he was made of.”

“Which was
formidable?” I said.

Bernie turned
to me, his eyes gleaming with memories of the past.

“It was,
Madison.
 
Those pecs.
 
Those abs.
 
His thick, meaty thighs.
 
When I saw him, I was done in.
 
And then he approached me—and
without saying a word to me, he just kissed me.
 
I can still taste the stale beer on his
tongue, feel his hand on my ass.
 
And then there was later, when I took him home with me.
 
It was as if we’d known each other for a
lifetime.
 
I have no shame in
telling all of you that he took his lasso, swung it around his head, and snared
me with it the moment we stepped into my bedroom.
 
And then?
 
Then he stripped me bare, he used the
rope to hogtie me, and then he broke my brokeback mountain.
 
Together, we had what might have been
the best sex of my life.”

“He did
what
to you?” Blackwell said.

“Are you not
listening to me?
 
I said that he
broke my brokeback mountain.”

“I heard you,”
she said.
 
“I just can’t believe
that you went there.”

“Well, believe
it.”

“There are
things I should never have to envision, Bernie.
 
And the idea of you being hogtied by
someone named Buck is one of them.”

“Then shade
your eyes from the truth of my life, darling, because our brief love affair is
something I’ll never regret, Barbara.
 
And now it’s yours to either believe or throw away forever.”