I'm Your Man (42 page)

“Good luck. I know he's not too thrilled about posing for Lillith Allure. I think the best way to lift his spirits about any of this is for me to steer clear of that particular session,” I said. Josh looked like he was about to protest, so I shooed him off, saying, “Go. Mingle with the people. Talk to the animals.”

I walked aimlessly through the ballroom, pausing only to politely say hello to people and pet their dogs, cats, or lemur. As I did, I scanned faces for Daniel or Sheila, but couldn't find either of them. Instead, in a grand hall off the ballroom, I found a group of people lined up to pamper their pets with massages offered by a local holistic animal center. Among the men and women soothing the savage beasts, I was surprised to see Ethan resting his hands on the back of a Doberman pinscher, his eyes shut in deep concentration. When he finally opened his eyes and handed the dog back to its owner, he saw me and broke away from the other therapists.

He gave me a sociable hug and said, “What a pleasant surprise. Did you bring your cat? I'd be happy to do some energy work on him.”

“Dexter's at home washing his hair,” I said. “I didn't know your work extended to animals.”

“Animals not only guide our spirits, but they give so much to our energy,” Ethan said. “It's important to give back energy and heal them whenever possible. A wise man once said,
True love needs no company, it can cure the soul, it can make you whole, if dogs run free.”

“What?”

“Bob Dylan. Are you okay, Blaine?”

Before I could answer, Daniel appeared, looking less than pleased to see Ethan. Though they greeted each other and attempted to make small talk, it was obvious Daniel was just going through the motions. Ethan excused himself by saying he had to get back to his energy work.

“Why were you so rude to him?” I whispered to Daniel after Ethan left.

“Don't start with me,” Daniel warned.

“It's time for dinner,” I said, noticing that people were starting to take their places at the tables in the ballroom. “Let's just eat, make a few more rounds, then we can leave.”

“In separate cars, I hope,” Daniel said, taking off for the ballroom.

I followed him to our table, where we were served several delicious courses of vegetarian fare. I immediately thought of Gretchen, but wisely kept that to myself. I needn't have bothered being discreet. We were seated with a few people from the publishing industry, who only talked to each other. Daniel wouldn't talk to me at all, as he was seated next to Tina Yothers, who he conversed with nonstop from the moment we sat down.

After dinner, the guests were treated to a performance by The B-52's. When they started playing, I decided to use the noise to my advantage and squirreled Daniel away to a corner of the ballroom to have it out with him.

“What's wrong with you?” I asked. “The plan was that we go to these events as a couple. People are more likely to believe you're dating Tina Yothers, since you haven't said one word to me all night.”

“Just as they're more likely to believe you're dating Ethan Whitecrow,” Daniel said. “Did you know he would be here? Is that why it was so important we come here tonight? So you could be with your fuck buddy?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Your publicist and Gavin arrange our appearances. Other than shelling out money for the tickets, I had nothing to do with this. I had no idea Ethan would be here.”

“Yeah, right,” Daniel scoffed.

“Sure, Daniel. You got me. Ethan's whole spiritual thing is a complete ruse. It's all an act just so he could see me tonight,” I said sarcastically. “In fact, those two books he wrote? I wrote them. Yeah, that's right. I wrote them to add credibility to this whole plot. I guess the jig is up. Maybe I should find Ethan and let him know.”

I turned to walk away, then spied a camera crew from
Entertainment Tonight
headed toward us. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Daniel scowling at me, obviously getting ready to rival The B-52's in terms of volume. I panicked and grabbed him, quickly pulling him to me and kissing him. Daniel struggled in my grip for a moment, but soon gave in to the kiss and even opened his mouth to touch my teeth with his tongue. I felt warm lights from the television crew turn on us, and someone said, “Having fun, guys?”

I broke our kiss, spun Daniel around, and dipped him, as if we were Fred and Ginger. We both grinned maniacally, and I said, “This is our song.”

The
ET
correspondent laughed and said, “ ‘Rock Lobster' is your song? That's great. Thanks, you two.”

When they left, Daniel punched my arm and said, “Let me up.” I did, and he continued, “We came, we ate, we fought, and we got on TV. I'm leaving. Feel free to walk out with me if you want. First, I'm going to say goodbye to Tina.”

I watched him storm off and thought briefly about finding Ethan. I decided that would do more harm than good, so I stood locked in indecision about my next move. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned.

“You look like you just lost your best friend,” Frank said.

“I see yours is with you,” I answered, bending to rub Rowdy's ears. “Is he enjoying the evening?”

“I just discovered he doesn't like ferrets, but other than that, we're both having a good time. What about you?”

“I like ferrets okay.” Frank gave me his fatherly look, and I confessed, “I feel like I'm trying to sell a product that should be recalled. Like Firestone tires.” When Frank stayed silent, I said, “If you were gay, that would have been your cue to make jokes using the words ‘blow' or ‘rubber.' What I mean is that Daniel and I have these moments when we connect, like in the old days, then it always goes to hell. Two steps forward and three steps back.”

Frank gave me an understanding nod and said, “It seems to me that the two of you have done enough. Why don't you tell Gavin to curtail your joint appearances?”

“Because . . .”

When I showed no indication that I intended to finish my sentence, Frank said, “Because at least this way you get to see Daniel. Beneath your public ruse is genuine feeling.”

“Thank you for recognizing that. Daniel sure doesn't.”

“Do you acknowledge that it's the same for him?”

“I don't think it is,” I said.

“It's been three months since the wedding,” Frank said. When my face clearly showed I didn't understand his point, he went on. “You and Daniel almost reconciled then. I assume he made it clear that he loved you and wanted to work things out. As little as I know him, I do know you. I don't think it's possible for him to stop loving you in three months.”

“You're right,” I said after thinking it over. “But love needs to be nourished. We're giving it junk food.”

“That's why I suggested it may be time to step away from the table,” Frank said. “Until you're both hungry again.”

Daniel and I were quiet as we rode home later. I didn't know what he was thinking about, and I decided I might as well follow Frank's advice.

“I think we should cut back on some of this stuff,” I said.

Daniel stared out the window and said, “Suits me. You tell Gavin. I'll tell Ronald.”

His indifference made me reluctant to explain my motives. Apparently Frank was wrong. Daniel would rather not see me at all than take the crumbs these public appearances offered us.

T
he next few days were peaceful, as I declined all invitations to public functions or private evenings with my friends. I'd decided my next move would be to meet with Daniel alone, hopefully to settle some of the unresolved issues between us. So I was annoyed to find out that we were committed to tape an interview for some gay Canadian cable show that I'd never heard of. At least they were doing it in Daniel's apartment, so I didn't have to go far. Afterward, I was supposed to meet Gretchen at the healthcare center for a doctor's appointment, which hopefully precluded another fight with Daniel following the interview.

By the time I got to his place, everything was already set up in the patio garden. After a quick session with their makeup person, they seated me next to Daniel on a bench, and the interview began. Different interviewer; same drill. I could do it in my sleep now.

Until we were thrown a curve when the interviewer, Geoffrey, said, “This is where it all began. Daniel worked in his garden, and you watched him from your window in the building behind us, Blaine. It's a romantic beginning, like something out of Shakespeare. When was that?”

“Three years ago,” Daniel said automatically.

“An eternity in gay years,” Geoffrey said, smiling as if he found himself wonderfully clever. “It must be one of the longest courtships on record.”

“Courtships?” Daniel asked.

“Seems like yesterday,” I offered, unsure why Daniel was frowning.

“It very well could have been,” Geoffrey said, “since nothing's changed. You two still live apart. Isn't that a little unusual for two crazy kids in love?” We sat in stone silence until Geoffrey said, “Take your time. We'll edit out the dead space later.”

“We've both shopped for a bigger place,” I finally said. At least that was the truth.

“But Blaine has his mind set on a town house, and I want something a little different,” Daniel said.

Apparently it was going to be war between us today. I kept my face pleasant and said, “The real estate situation in Manhattan is fierce. Just when you think you've found the perfect place, someone snaps it out from under you.”

“Yes, you can't really take the time to consider whether it's the right place with everyone demanding a fast answer,” Daniel said.

“Or if you walk out before a deal can be finalized,” I said. “It's daunting for Daniel to uproot himself. Or rather, uproot this garden. He's always growing new things I don't know about. In fact, you could call this Daniel's secret garden.”

“It's quite lovely,” Geoffrey said.

“Not to mention how busy Blaine is,” Daniel said. “Between work and indulging his various physical interests.”

“Oh, honey, you know you're as busy as I am. All the drama of
Secret Splendor
and your friends. Daniel takes into account where his friends live when he ponders moving.”

“Plus Blaine's need for space gets bigger all the time. There's the child to consider.”

“Child?” Geoffrey asked, perking up, while my face got hot and all capacity for speech left me.

“Dexter,” Daniel said sweetly. “Our cat. Cats get very attached to the places they live, you know.”

“Don't we all,” Geoffrey said. “When you two finally find the right place, we'd love to cover your housewarming party.”

“When we move in together, you'll be at the top of our list,” Daniel vowed. “Geoffrey, I'm afraid Blaine's run out of time.”

I managed a cordial exit and went to Daniel's bathroom to wash my face. I could hear the sounds of the crew packing up when Daniel slipped in behind me and closed the door.

“I'm already late leaving to meet Gretchen,” I warned. “I don't have time to get into anything with you.”

“You were right. No more interviews. I'm done with this bullshit,” Daniel said.

“You managed to dish out enough to fertilize your entire garden,” I said.

“You held your own,” he said.

“You started it with your dig about the town house. Don't tell me you weren't trying to antagonize me. And that crack about ‘the child'? Totally uncalled for.”

“I just wanted to remind you that I'm not the only one who keeps secrets.”

“Anything I kept secret from you happened after we broke up. You can't say the same, can you, considering your town house sale to Martin?”

“I didn't sell Martin the town house,” Daniel said.

“That's what you told me on Sheila's wedding day,” I said. “Changing your story again?”

“No, actually,
you
said it on Sheila's wedding day. All I said was that I sold the town house. You assumed it was to Martin. Where the hell would Martin come up with that kind of money?”

“Excuse my ignorance, but we never finished that conversation because you walked out. As usual.” I dried my face. When I moved the towel away, Daniel was sitting on the edge of the tub, staring at the floor. He looked tired and drained, and all the fight left me. I continued in a more civil tone, “Who did you sell it to?”

“Blythe's father,” Daniel said. “Even at less than market value, he was the only person I knew who had that kind of money and would let Martin and Blythe stay. It was
Ken's
town house, Blaine. I was trying to find a way to keep it in the family.”

“Then I guess you found a solution,” I said. “I wish you hadn't waited nearly a year to tell me.”

“You can never let it go, can you? You always have to win.” He stood up. “You're late for your appointment.”

I wanted to scream when he walked out. I took out my phone and called Gretchen's cell. I was sure she'd understand if I missed the appointment to finish this fight with Daniel once and for all. She didn't answer, so I left a message. When I went back to the living room, Daniel was on the patio with Geoffrey. They were taping him as he talked about the volunteer work he did with Parks and Recreation. Apparently, I'd have to catch up with him later.

It took forever to get a cab, and traffic was heavy. By the time we got to Chelsea, I couldn't wait to get out of the cab, and I was ready to throw money at the driver and run. Fortunately, when I opened the door, I looked toward the building.

Gretchen stood on the steps in the artificial light of a film crew, speaking into the microphone a reporter held. While my driver impatiently repeated how much I owed him, she pointed toward a building down the street. As the reporter looked in that direction, she met my eyes with a tiny shake of her head. I slammed the door and said, “Take me to that diner down the block. Don't worry about the meter.” I handed him a twenty and he happily drove me another half block, where I got out and slipped into the diner. I didn't have to wait long before Gretchen came in.

“That was close,” she said.

“I'm sorry I was late. What the hell happened? Who was that? What was he asking you?”

“Geez, one question at a time. Buy me a bottle of Poland Spring water. My mouth is dry.” When I came back with the water, she said, “Don't worry about being late. For once, Dr. Griffith was running ahead of schedule. The exam was fine. Civil Liberty is doing exactly what she should be.”

“Your blood pressure?”

“Still high. Anyway, that reporter is a journalist I know. A really nice guy. Hillary had just made a campaign stop there, and his crew was packing up to leave when I walked out. We started chatting, and I saw it as an opportunity to talk about the center's baby-holding program. Don't worry. He wasn't asking about Daniel or you. But Blaine, if he puts me on TV, how fat will I look? I hate thinking of all my ex-girlfriends chortling over that.”

“You don't look fat,” I promised. “Your coat covers your stomach.”

“Oh, so usually, I do look fat,” she said. Before I could redeem myself, she asked, “How was your interview?”

“Horrible. We're not doing any more of them. The veneer is cracking, and it's not pretty.”

“I don't mean to cut you off, but I have a meeting,” she said. “Are you free tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Why don't you come for dinner, and we can talk about all of this?”

“I could bring takeout—”

“No, I'm in the mood to cook. Amazingly, my kitchen is now nearly as well stocked as the one at Happy Hollow. Being pregnant has changed my brain chemistry, I think. I'm getting all domestic. Just get to my place around seven.”

I worked late, but skipped going to the gym, so I got to Gretchen's a little early and found the elevator in use. Since the doorman knew me, he allowed me to take the stairs and said he'd call to let her know I was on my way up. I was looking forward to having dinner with her. I'd been spending so many nights in places I didn't want to go, being someone I didn't want to be, that I welcomed a relaxing evening with just the two of us, without flashbulbs or microphones.

She was holding the service door open when I got to her floor, and hurried me past the kitchen to the living room, sparing me the necessity of finding something tactful to say about how she looked. I'd been right that morning to assure her that her coat concealed her pregnancy. What I couldn't figure out was when she'd gotten so huge.

I stopped short when we walked into the living room and Daniel turned from the stereo. The record he held fell to the floor and shattered into several pieces.

“What's he doing here?” Daniel asked.

“What record was that?” Gretchen asked anxiously.

“Probably some singer named Joan. Aren't they all?” Daniel asked.

“What's
he
doing here?” I echoed Daniel.

“I've had that album since I was fourteen,” Gretchen said, then it dawned on her that we were glowering at each other. “Dinner. You're both here for a friendly dinner. You remember those, don't you? We've had them before.”

“Memory fails,” Daniel said.

“It's the second thing to go,” I retorted.

“Knock this shit off,” Gretchen said. “You know I always have a reason for the things I do. If you want an explanation, sit down and pretend to be civilized human beings.”

“We're good at pretending,” I mumbled.

“Some of us better than others,” Daniel said under his breath.

“Who wants what to drink?” Gretchen asked.

“I'll have a Manhattan,” I said.

“I'll have gin with a hint of tonic, please,” Daniel said and sat on the sofa.

I watched as Gretchen poured a splash of sweet vermouth into the shaker at the bar and plopped a cherry into my glass with the smoothness of a professional bartender. When she started making Daniel's drink, I glanced at the floor and said, “Are the broom and dust pan in the kitchen? I'll clean up Daniel's mess.”

“No!” Gretchen said, freezing.

“I said just a hint,” Daniel calmly reminded her, as the tonic she was pouring flowed over the rim of the glass. “Blaine, you want to clean up Gretchen's mess, too?”

From the kitchen, I heard a noise that sounded like a lid being replaced on a pan. “Is somebody else here?” I asked.

“I can't do this,” Gretchen moaned, setting down the tonic and turning to face us.

“It's just a gin and tonic,” Daniel said. “Gin. Tonic. You pour them in a glass. If you can make a Manhattan, you can make a gin and tonic.”

The kitchen door swung open, and Gwendy came out carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Daniel's mouth dropped open, and I squinted at her as if she were a mirage.

“What's she doing here?” Daniel and I asked in unison.

Gwendy set the tray on the coffee table and bent next to me to pick up the broken record. “Joan Baez,” she said. “I always thought of her as Bob Dylan in drag.”

“You're gonna need this,” Gretchen said, handing Daniel my Manhattan.

Gwendy gently propelled me toward the sofa, and I sat next to Daniel. He and Gwendy had always had a contentious relationship. I felt sorry for him. After all he'd been through over the past few months, a surprise visit from Gwendy could only add to his agitation. I decided it would be best if I was supportive of him. If the two of them started another of their arguments, it would add to Gretchen's stress. In fact, it was possible that Gretchen had invited me so I could buffer her.

Gretchen handed me Daniel's gin and tonic before she sat in a chair across from us. It wasn't like her to be so absentminded, but pregnancy had changed her. I switched drinks with Daniel without commenting.

“Will someone please say something?” Daniel asked.

“Have an hors d'oeuvre,” Gwendy said. “I'm a lesbian.”

As Daniel choked on his drink, something clicked into place for me. Gwendy had always reminded me of someone. I finally realized it was Gretchen.

“Is that a joke?” Daniel asked. He took my Manhattan from my hand and gulped half of it down. “You're not a lesbian. If you think you are, it's just a phase.”

“Who are you, Jerry Falwell?” Gwendy asked. “Trust me, I'm a lesbian.”

“When did you figure this out?” I asked in a friendly tone, trying to give Daniel a chance to process the news.

“In college—”

“Everyone's a lesbian in college,” Daniel interjected.

“—when I started sleeping with the Law Review president,” Gwendy finished.

“So you're a slut. You're not a lesbian,” Daniel said.

“Fine, I'm a lesbian slut,” Gwendy said. “You really should try one of these crab puffs.”