I'm Your Man (38 page)

“Gavin?”

“Blaine, have you seen—”

“That bitch,” I said, cutting him off. “As if I didn't have enough going wrong.”

“So you have seen it.”

“Has anyone called?”

“No, not here,” he said.

“I'm on my way home,” I said and disconnected the call. I held the phone away from my ear and noticed the envelope symbol on the face of my phone, signaling that I had voice mail.

“Hi, Blaine, it's Ethan. I saw the ‘Lo-Down.' I know you're probably still mad, but if you want to talk about it, give me a call.”

I knew what he wanted to say to me, and I didn't want to hear it. Now that the press had announced that Daniel and I were in a relationship and possibly in trouble, it would be best to represent ourselves as a happy couple being unfairly treated by a vindictive gossip columnist. But as far as I was concerned, Daniel had made the decision for us. I was not going to oppose him.

 

Over the following days, Violet and Gavin ran interference for me, fielding calls from gay reporters across the country who wanted some kind of statement. But neither of my assistants could protect me from my friends or what they were going through.

I hadn't heard from Sheila since she'd told me what was happening to Daniel at
Secret Splendor.
She'd left a message on my voice mail at work, but it had nothing to do with Daniel. All she'd said was, “I hate you, Blaine. You know I can't stand snakes!”

After her honeymoon, she'd gone back to work posing for Zodiac. The Libra ads were photographed on the terrace of Lincoln Center with Sheila, a male model, and forty extras all dressed in formal wear, as if at a party. All eyes were on Sheila and her paramour while they danced, charming the guests at the party, until they ended up playfully splashing in Lincoln Center's fountain. Reflecting the characteristics of people born under the sign of Libra, the ads were luxurious and grand, yet playful and gregarious.

The Scorpio ads were a different story. Sheila and her paramour from the Libra ads posed in the Lobby Lounge at Manhattan's Four Seasons Hotel. When her partner's head was turned by a beautiful woman, Sheila's Scorpio rage was manifested by snakes curling around her arms, waist, neck, and shoulders. The snake handlers had assured me that there would be no poisonous snakes used in the photos. However, I erred on the side of caution and had a representative from Poison Control on hand, just in case. I couldn't imagine what all the fuss was about, and never bothered to return Sheila's call.

After Gavin and I appeared in Lola's column, I felt nervous about going out the following weekend. I stayed home to catch up on paperwork in front of the television. Dexter “helped” by napping on folders, papers, and spreadsheets that were scattered around me on the living room floor. Shooing him away for the tenth time and flipping through channels with the remote, I paused on a program that was showing an overview of entertainment news from the past week. What caught my eye was Sheila and Josh being stopped on their way to the premiere of a movie in Los Angeles.

“Hi! This is Claire Jennings at the
Bring It On
premiere. In addition to the stars of the movie, lots of celebrity guests are showing up on the red car—Oh, look! It's Lillith Allure's Zodiac model, Sheila Meyers. Can you talk with us for a minute, Sheila?” the overenthusiastic correspondent asked.

“Hi,” Sheila said agreeably. She looked none the worse for wear after the Scorpio photo shoot. She and Josh were dressed similarly in jeans, T-shirts, and leather jackets. I wondered why they were in L.A., and briefly allowed myself to buy into Lola's speculation about Sheila being the next Bond girl. But I quickly dismissed the idea, deciding their jaunt to California was more likely due to an assignment Josh was doing for
Ultimate Magazine.

“Are you excited about the movie?”

“Sure! I hear it's very funny,” Sheila said.

“Were you a cheerleader in high school?”

“Yes. For two years. If this is where you bring out my old yearbooks, I'll be forced to hurt you,” Sheila warned. I laughed as Josh looked at his watch and began to playfully pull on Sheila's arm. “I'm sorry. We really should be going in.”

“Before you go,” Claire Jennings hastily said, “just one question. Care to comment on your friend Daniel Stephenson's recent coming-out interview in—”

“No. Not really,” Sheila interrupted.

“The man photographed with Daniel Stephenson in the
Manhattan Star-Gazette
was identified as Blaine Dunhill. He's the man who creates your Zodiac ads, right?” Claire Jennings persisted, her plastic smile never faltering.

“Yes,” Sheila answered.

“Oh, shit,” I moaned.

“The two of you went to high school together, and Mr. Dunhill was on the football team. Was there a cheerleader-football player romance going on? Oh! I guess not if he's gay, right?” Sheila and Josh, like me while I watched, looked at Claire Jennings as if they were waiting for her to bring out a white sheet and a burning cross. “Rumor had it that you and Daniel Stephenson were dating,” Claire Jennings babbled on. “And now you and Josh Clinton are married.”

Sheila finally regained the use of her tongue and said, “Are you suggesting that I'm turning men gay?”

“Look! It's Anthony Edwards,” Josh said, pointing off camera. “He's cute!”

Sheila and Josh laughed together, then Sheila said, “Oh my gosh, you maybe right! It's happening to me, too!”

She leaned over to the unwary Claire and kissed her. Claire struggled and pulled back, Sheila's Capricorn Crimson lipstick smearing her lips.

“Tasty!” Sheila said as a laughing Josh dragged her away.

Claire, apparently thinking they'd stopped taping, sputtered, “Did you see what that dumb dyke did? I've interviewed dozens of closet cases, and none of them ever tried anything with me.”

While I considered asking Lillith if I could borrow her attorney, the entertainment program's anchor appeared on my screen. “In a related story,” he said, “Claire Jennings was given a leave of absence after pressure from the ACLU and gay-related media watchdog organizations. Questions surrounding Daniel Stephenson and Blaine Dunhill remain unanswered from
Secret Splendor,
as well as the show's sponsor, Seaforth Chemicals. Stephenson's publicist has also declined to comment about the actor's personal life.”

I tried to get in touch with Josh and Sheila, but couldn't be sure if they were still in L.A. or back in New York. Their cell phones were off and Call Notes picked up when I tried them at home. I wanted to call Gretchen, but decided not to. Unloading my stress on her wouldn't help either of us. I finally ordered in, and three bacon cheeseburgers later, talked myself into believing that nothing further would happen now that Claire Jennings had been removed from the entertainment news scene. That lasted until the next day, when Jake Meyers called me at my office.

“Blaine, this is getting weird,” Jake said. “Some reporter called me from a gay paper in Minneapolis and wanted to interview me about Daniel. I said that I barely know him. Then he asked about you.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I didn't want to be interviewed and he should call you. I figured that was the end of it. But then someone called from
The Advocate. The Advocate,
Blaine. That's national. When he realized that I was familiar with the magazine, he asked if I was gay.” Jake laughed when I groaned. “It doesn't bother me, but what do you want me to do? They seem to know I'm your best friend. I don't want them to think my silence means I have a problem with you being gay.”

“You don't have to say anything. They'll eventually leave you alone.”

“They're obviously doing their homework if they're calling me. What happens when they find someone who might be willing to talk? Like Sydney, for example.”

“According to my nephew, Sydney's in Europe,” I said. “By the time she gets back, this will be old news.”

“Your nephew? You've spoken to your family?”

“No. Nick and I have been e-mailing for a while. He says my parents are oblivious to it all. Or at least they're pretending to be.”

“Big shock. Where did Sydney get the money to ship her paintings? Please tell me you didn't give it to her.”

“No. Sheila thinks she got it from Lola Listeria and the
Star-Gazette.
”

“It wouldn't surprise me,” Jake said.

A few nights later, Jeremy showed up at my door. He accepted the beer I gave him, listened as I caught him up, then said, “This is not what you signed on for, is it? People in the business crave attention. We start reciting Oscar acceptance speeches to the mirror when we're barely out of kindergarten. I'm sure it's not easy being the private half of that equation.”

I frowned at him and said, “I'm not half of anything, remember? I wish Adam and Ethan had never put that idea into Lillith's and Bonnie's addled brains. Don't you start, too.”

Jeremy crossed the room, making no secret of the fact that he wanted a look at Daniel's apartment, and said, “What about him? How's he handling it?”

“How would I know? It's not like we call each other to compare notes. I'm surprised he's not telling you, both of you being ‘in the business' and all. Why are you in town?” I asked to change the subject.

“Adam is still here on business, and I flew in for my parents' wedding anniversary. We're staying with them in Brooklyn.” He turned back to me. “I'm worried about him.”

“Adam?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and said, “Daniel. I hate it when he shuts down like this.”

“Give me a break,” I said. “There's nothing wrong with Daniel's coping skills. You should have seen him the day he showed up here in disguise. He enjoyed shoving his drag persona in my face.”

Jeremy frowned and said, “You never even tried to understand that side of Daniel. Drag wasn't just a way for him to perform.”

“I know,” I said. “He raised tons of money and helped the community.”

“That's not what I'm talking about. For Daniel, being in drag offered the kind of safety the closet gives some people. It made him feel secure when he was scared or nervous. Like wearing a mask, so no one could see and possibly reject the real him.” He paused to let that sink in, then said, “I wish he'd return my calls. He knows I'm in town.”

“Maybe he's just dodging unsolicited advice,” I suggested.

“Like you, huh?” When I emphatically nodded my agreement, he said, “I gave you advice once before, about talking to Daniel before you and Gretchen made a decision. Was I wrong?”

“Probably not,” I admitted.

“I also told you to follow him after the wedding reception so you and he could have it out. You let him leave. How'd that turn out for you?”

“I get your point,” I said. “Say what you have to say.”

“Stop walking on eggshells around him. Stop listening to other people. They don't know him the way you do. Neither do I, but I've come close. Take my word for it, giving Daniel too much time and space, or letting him magnify your relationship with Ethan out of all proportion, is a bad idea. Not to mention your gym tricks and the rumors about your live-in help.”

“Adam is a font of information, isn't he?”

“Believe it or not, Adam, not Daniel, is the reason I'm here. He feels like hell because of the meeting with Lillith and Bonnie.”

“That wasn't Adam's fault,” I said. “I'll call him and tell him so.”

“Thank you.”

We both turned when the lock clicked and Gavin came into the apartment. I introduced them, surprised by how reserved Gavin was. Months before, when he'd first found out that I knew Jeremy, his star-struck gene kicked in the way it had on the day we saw Daniel in Whole Foods. But after a polite exchange with Jeremy, Gavin went into the kitchen to noisily put away groceries.

Jeremy regarded me a few seconds then said, “Do you love Daniel?”

“Of course I do.”

“Do you want the two of you to work this out?” When I just stared at him as if he had to be kidding, he smiled. “Then find a way to make him face you. You're creative. I'm sure you'll think of something.”

After Jeremy left, Gavin came back to the living room, saying, “Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, thanks. You were a little distant to Jeremy. What was that about?”

“I never liked his sitcom. Too much sit and not enough com. Besides, I don't know who's an enemy anymore.”

I gave a startled laugh and said, “Is that what it's like around here? A war zone?”

“It's tense,” Gavin admitted. “Maybe you could use a massage.”

“No,” I said. “Not right now.” I started to take Jeremy's half-drunk beer from the windowsill and paused, staring down at Daniel's patio. He'd turned on the lights and was kneeling, doing something to the plants next to his fountain. “Could you hand me the phone, please?” I exchanged the beer bottle for the phone and dialed Daniel's number, watching as he walked to the door to screen the call. “Hi, it's me. Please pick up.”

He walked inside and a few seconds later said, “Hi, Blaine.”

“Are there still reporters in front of your building?”

“I don't know. Probably. Why?”

“I want to come over. We need to talk.”

“I can't guarantee that you won't see your picture somewhere tomorrow.”

“I'll be there in a few minutes.”