I'm Your Man (32 page)

“Hi,” I said. “I figured you were gone.”

“I thought I'd stick around awhile,” he said.

“Where's Rowdy?”

“When I let him off his lead, he took off for those trees. I think he's hunting.”

I laughed and said, “Maybe he's treed Lola Listeria.”

“He's a retriever, not a raccoon hound,” Frank said. We stood for a while in silence, then he cleared his throat. “I'm assuming from what happened earlier that you and Gretchen are with child?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, a little leery of where this was going. There was no telling what Aunt Jen had said about me after I followed Daniel from the tent.

“It's a good thing, being a father,” Frank said. “In spite of my business success, it's Seth I'm proudest of. You do the best you can, not really knowing what the hell you're doing, and sometimes it seems like everything turns out okay in spite of you. I've known you for what, five years now?”

“That sounds right.”

He lit a cigar, and I could tell he was buying time. Finally he said, “You've changed a lot over those years. I feel like I helped you grow up. Hell, what I'm trying to say, Blaine, is that you're like a son to me. I think you'll be a good father. If there's ever anything I can do to help you out, just tell me.”

When I turned to look at him, he hugged me the way I'd always wished my father would. He didn't pull away until Rowdy loped up and nudged his way between us.

“Thank you, Frank. You know, if it's okay with you, I think I'd like to use your place at Lake Geneva after all. A week to myself sounds good.”

“You got it,” Frank said. “Stop by the hotel tomorrow, and I'll give you the key and the directions.”

After he and Rowdy left, I went upstairs. Like Gretchen, I felt like I was on hormone overload. I undressed, turned off the lights, and crawled into sheets that still smelled like Daniel. I heard Adam and Jeremy when they came upstairs and hesitated outside my door, then walked on to their bedroom.

I thought about Sheila and Josh and how glad I was that they'd left before the Plumpies hit the fan. I thought about how different my reaction to Daniel was from what I would have expected. A few months before, I'd have vacillated between being furious and devastated. Instead, I felt fatalistic. Either he would learn to live with it, or he wouldn't. If he wanted to be angry with Gretchen and me, he'd be cheating all of us, but that was his decision to make.

I didn't think about work, other than the gratitude I felt toward Frank. Because what I really thought about was fathers and sons. I didn't know how the hell I would raise a daughter, but I knew how I would not raise a son. I would not be my father.

Sometime near dawn, I knew what I had to do. I slept a couple of hours, then got up, showered, packed, and slipped out of the house without disturbing Adam or Jeremy, intending to send them an e-mail later to explain things. I drove my rental car to my brother Shane's house, determined to be there before he and Beverly could start their usual busy, dysfunctional days.

Beverly gave me a weird look when she opened the door, saying, “What's wrong? Is your mother sick again?”

“I don't know. I want to talk to you and Shane.”

“His tee time is at—”

“Now,” I said firmly.

Her eyes widened, but she left me at the kitchen table to go upstairs and get him. When he came back with her, he looked less than happy to see me. I waited until they both filled their cups and sat down.

“I know you don't want to hear this, but I have a few things to say. You'll make your golf date,” I assured my brother. “Beverly, Shane probably told you what I shared with him while our mother was in surgery. I'm gay. I've been gay as long as I can remember. Nobody made me that way. I didn't ask for it. Nobody came to me when I was nine or twelve or fifteen and gave me a choice. I did my best to fight it until I was twenty-five. I tried to do things your way. I got married with the intention of starting a family and living the life our parents wanted me to live. I couldn't do it, because it was a lie. Maybe other people can live a lie, but I couldn't. I know the crap you believe, because I heard it all my life. I don't care. What your Bible, your minister, your friends, or your parents say. It would have been great to have a family who could acknowledge it, let alone accept or embrace it, but it didn't work out that way for me. I can't say I don't care about that, because deep inside, I do. I always will, but that's just something I have to live with. I can't change you; you can't change me.”

Beverly stood up and walked to the kitchen sink, staring out the window. Shane looked at his coffee cup with a sullen expression and said, “Is that it?”

“I just want to be clear about this. There was a time, if I
had
been given a choice, that I would have chosen not to be gay. Not anymore. I'm fine with who I am. But again, I had no choice. That's it. Have a good day on the links. I'll see myself out, Beverly.”

I drove to the Hampton Inn and got the key and directions to the cabin from Frank. Then I wrote a letter and slid it under Gretchen's door, knowing she would understand my need to be alone. Once I was on the highway, I allowed myself to breathe. I had no idea if what I'd done would ever be of any help to Nick, but hopefully I'd given his parents something to think about against the day he might tell them what I'd never been able to tell mine.

I stocked up on groceries before finding Frank's cabin, which I was relieved to discover wasn't the primitive place I'd expected. It was a comfortable little cottage with every amenity, including a computer with a cable modem. I should have known that a businessman like Frank would never strand himself without access to his company.

I made myself something to eat, then plugged in my laptop. First I composed an e-mail to Adam, explaining where I was and thanking him and Jeremy for letting me stay there. Then I began dealing with Lillith Allure e-mails as I read them in order. After about forty of them, I got a surprise when I hit “Next” and found one from my nephew.

I rubbed my eyes, then kept my hands over my face. Had I actually thought that Nick needed me to save him? It was starting to be obvious who was rescuing whom from the lonely silence imposed by the Apple Dunhill Gang, as Jake always called us.

I sent my nephew a simple reply to thank him and tell him I loved him, then I did the most shocking thing I could think of. I powered off my laptop and returned it to its case.

Six days. Without e-mails, phone calls, or news. I didn't want to deal with anything else at the office. No one was indispensable, and I needed a vacation. Frank knew where I was. If there was really such a thing as a crisis that couldn't be managed without me, he'd know how to reach me. If Gretchen needed me, she'd know to call Frank, because I'd told her in my note that I was using his cabin.

I didn't want to read a newspaper, including Lola Listeria's damage control on why her dire predictions about Sheila's wedding had not come to pass. I didn't want to talk to my friends about everything that had happened in Eau Claire, either before or after the wedding. I was going to have six days disconnected from the world if it killed me.

Not that I wouldn't work. I thrived on work. But with silence, punctuated by hiking and swimming, I could go back to New York with the full Gods of Mythology campaign mapped out.

I called the airline and changed my point and time of departure. By flying out of Chicago on Saturday night, I'd be able to walk into a quiet apartment without fanfare, rest and catch up on e-mail on Sunday, and be ready for the corporate world on Monday. Meanwhile, I had six relaxing, Blaine-only days ahead of me.

I
had a spring in my step as I climbed the five floors to my apartment at one in the morning. Shutting out the world had been the best gift I'd ever given myself, and I couldn't wait to crawl into my own bed, wake up to Gavin's breakfast, and find out what the pesky Dexter had been up to in my absence. I managed to get into my apartment without making a sound because I didn't want to wake Gavin.

I needn't have worried. No one noticed me, and I silently shut the door and tried to figure out the meaning of the tableau spread before me. Every light in my apartment was on, the television was blaring, and Dexter was nowhere to be seen. I assumed that was because Rowdy was snoozing as if oblivious to the chaos around him.

Violet and Gavin were sitting on floor pillows at the coffee table, which was littered with Chinese takeout containers. They were deep in conversation with Frank and Lillith Allure's attorney, Ryan Sloane. Barbara, Lillith's assistant, was lightly snoring from the end of the sofa. Lillith herself was ensconced in my armchair, with one of her many advisors at her feet. He was using one corner of the table to cast what I assumed were rune stones. For all I knew, they were I Ching stones, since it was apparently Asian night at Blaine Manor.

“As long as
Secret Splendor
isn't issuing an outright denial, people are going to assume the story is true,” Gavin was saying.

“Employers aren't obligated to make public statements about their employees' private lives,” Ryan said.

“Including our company,” Frank added. “Even if they eventually print Blaine's name, it will be up to him how he responds to it.”

“Peorth,” Rune Reader intoned. “Signifies something unresolved in one's life.”

“But whose life?” Lillith asked. “And which lifetime are we reading? I'm so tired.”

“Daniel's a celebrity. The show can't keep dodging the question. Or at least Daniel can't. It will come up in any interview he does in the future. They'll keep asking until he either confirms or denies it,” Gavin said.

“That's Daniel's problem,” Violet said. “I'm only worried about Blaine.
Please
give me his phone number at the cabin. He isn't answering his cell phone or returning my messages.”

“None of this has anything to do with Lillith Allure,” Ryan repeated. “So what if Lola names Blaine in a future column? He doesn't owe anyone an explanation.”

“Backlash,” Gavin said. “Gay people are consumers, too. We boycott companies that piss us off. If everyone issues denials about something that's obviously true, there could be a boycott of
Secret Splendor
's sponsors. And Lillith Allure's products.”

“Ice counsels caution. The best action is no action,” Rune Reader chimed in.

“How many gay men buy Zodiac?” Ryan scoffed.

“The men's line,” Lillith moaned. “What if they don't buy our new men's products? Assuming Blaine isn't too distracted to create an ad campaign for them.”

“I know he'd want to hear it from me first,” Violet insisted. “Instead of seeing it in the paper.”

“Would anyone like to tell me what's going on here?” I asked.

Rowdy sat up with a quiet
woof;
Barbara continued to doze. Five pairs of stunned eyes turned to look at me as the television reminded us that we had only hours to take advantage of a limited offer, and Rune Reader said, “Eolh reversed. Danger with a negative outcome.”

“Blaine!” Violet exclaimed. “We were just—”

“Talking about me? I heard. What's this about?”

Since they'd been talking over each other before they knew I was there, I expected them to all speak at once, but I only got stares. And another soft snore from Barbara.

“Just give him the paper,” Lillith said, finally breaking the silence, and Violet, as she had so many times in the past, handed me the
Manhattan Star-Gazette,
folded open to Lola Listeria's “Lo-Down” column. I scanned the text, but I didn't see anything pertaining to Sheila or Daniel.

“The pictures,” Violet said.

“Ah,” I said, my eyes traveling to the row of grainy black-and-white photos to the right of the column. My first reaction was surprise that, in a picture of the bride and groom dancing, Sheila looked less than stunning. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were glazed. Apparently Lola had lost her infatuation with Sheila. The caption read, “Sheila Meyers an exhausted bride in her nuptial dance with groom Josh Clinton.”

The second photo showed Mr. T handing over his mushroom cap to Faizah, but when I dropped my eyes to read that caption, I zeroed in on the next picture. Daniel holding me—although my back was to the camera—in our dance outside the tent. That picture, and the three that came after it—one in which the two of us were in profile, still dancing; one in which Daniel was kissing me; one in which we were pulling away, but still staring into each other's eyes—were all untitled. The final picture, which must have been taken just before we turned to walk back inside the tent, clearly showed our faces, and beneath it was printed, “Lola now understands that she was ‘steered'—get it?—in the wrong direction regarding Daniel and Sheila. The portrayer of
Secret Splendor
's Angus obviously grazes on the other side of the fence.”

Rowdy let out a soft whine and lay back down on the floor with a heavy sigh, and I said, “I know how you feel, buddy.” I looked up to see them all still staring at me, even Rune Reader and the newly awakened Barbara, and I felt the first stirring of my famous Dunhill temper. I looked at Gavin and asked, “Has Daniel called?” When he shook his head, I looked at Violet.

“He hasn't called the office either. Have you been checking the messages on your cell phone?”

“No,” I said.

“He may have left one there. Although your voice mail is jammed with my messages.”

I crossed the room to look down at Daniel's apartment. Tiny white lights twinkled around his plants, but his apartment was dark. So he was in the city, but either out or asleep.

“Violet did beg for your number at the cabin,” Frank said. “It was my decision not to bother you. I thought you deserved your vacation.”

I turned around and said, “It was a working vacation. Lillith, don't worry. I have an advertising strategy for the men's line. I'll present it to you and Frank on Monday.” I looked at Violet and said, “I'm sorry if I've caused you anxiety. I know you'd do anything to take care of me, but you can see that I'm fine. Just tired.”

“I'd like to strangle that redheaded bitch, Lola Listeria,” Violet said.

“Karma,” Lillith warned her.

“Erase, erase,” Rune Reader said, looking heavenward.

“We should leave and let you get some rest,” Frank said as he stood up.

Gavin, Violet, and Barbara began clearing the table while Rune Reader packed his stones and Ryan helped Lillith retrieve her belongings. I continued to lean against the windowsill, and Frank crossed the room to me after turning off the television.

“I didn't loan you the cabin so you could do nothing but work,” he scolded.

“Trust me, working on the men's line without distractions was exactly what I needed. I felt great at the cabin,” I assured him, taking the key from my pocket and handing it to him.

“Then you came back to this,” he said, glancing around.

“Has the story been picked up? With any more details?”

“A few of the entertainment shows seem interested. So far, there have just been generic ‘no comment' statements from unnamed sources connected to
Secret Splendor.
”

“I wonder how Lola got the pictures? I thought Adam's security people thoroughly screened the press.”

“They aren't professional shots,” Frank said. “Apparently someone sneaked a camera in.”

“Trust Lola Listeria to find that person. Or maybe she set it up.”

“Gavin told us earlier that
listeria
is a food bacteria also found in sewage,” Lillith said, joining us at the window.

“How appropriate is that?” I asked.

I was grateful when they were all gone. I left Gavin cleaning the kitchen and shut my bedroom door behind me. Dexter was asleep on my pillow, which he knew was forbidden, but I ignored him and took my cell phone from one of my bags.

There were no calls before Wednesday, but Violet was right. My voice mail was full. After hearing the third message from her asking me to call about an urgent matter, I began deleting hers, but listened to the others.

“Hi, sweetie,” Gretchen said in a message from the night before. “You might want to get your hands on a copy of the
Star-Gazette
before you come back to the city. Civil Liberty and I are fine. We took a vacation, too. Call me when you get back.”

“Blaine, it's Ethan. Your assistant tells me you're out of town. Give me a call when you get back.”

“Hi, Uncle Blaine. Hey, was the wedding you told me about the one with that actor from here who's on a soap? I think something happened to him, but I don't know what. I'll e-mail you if I find out.” So as of last night, apparently, my picture wasn't in the Midwestern papers. Or else Nick hadn't seen it.

The last few messages were from Violet and had filled my mailbox. If Daniel had tried to call, he wouldn't have been able to leave a message. I dialed into my voice mail at work, but it was empty, so I assumed Violet had handled everything there.

I sat on the edge of the bed, too tired to think but unable to stop, and the only thing on my mind was Daniel. What a miserable few days he must have had. First finding out about the baby, then this spiteful act by a scandal-hungry woman who didn't have the grace to admit she was wrong. She'd used her little bit of power to strike out at him. If he hadn't stubbornly, stupidly walked out on me, I'd be doing whatever I could to help him through it. Although I knew that was his choice, I couldn't help but feel guilty.

Even after I put Dexter out of my bedroom and went to bed, I lay awake thinking in circles. Everyone who knew Daniel would tell me that my best option was to wait for him to come to me. I fought my impulse to get dressed, go to his apartment, and force him to see me.

It was a relief to open my eyes the next morning and realize that I'd slept. I took a shower and unpacked before I went to the kitchen, where Gavin was waiting with a cup of coffee.

“Did you sleep at all?” he asked, looking at my bloodshot eyes.

“Not much.” I took the coffee and walked to the window. No sign of life at Daniel's.

After I ate breakfast, I called Gretchen, forestalling any discussion with a terse request that she let me come over. She agreed and within the hour was ushering me into her loft.

“You look like hell. You saw the paper, I assume?”

“Yes, after I got home last night.” I told her about my welcoming committee, and she shook her head.

“Daniel hasn't decided what he wants to do yet,” she said. I appreciated her ability to know what was uppermost on my mind. “The network wants him to do nothing. Bonnie and the Seaforth Chemical people are leaving it up to him. But everyone's giving him advice, and it's making him crazy. You know Daniel. He's reeling and needs time to process.”

“At least he's talking to you,” I said.

“Yes,” she said and gave me a sympathetic smile. “Don't look so worried. He's okay, and I'm sure he'll get in touch with you soon. He probably thinks you're still out of town.”

“He knew?”

“I told him. I'd better tell you everything from the beginning.”

“Okay,” I said, sitting down.

“I didn't come home from Eau Claire right away. Once I got your note, I decided I could use a few days off, too. Gwendy knew I was still there, so on Tuesday night she asked me to have dinner with Daniel and her. I don't know how she talked him into it, but I thought it was a good idea. After I explained everything to him, he was mostly concerned for my health. Things were friendly enough between us that we agreed to fly back to New York together on Thursday. Which we did, with neither of us knowing what had been printed in Wednesday's ‘Lo-Down' column. One of my friends told me about it. I was finally able to talk to him Friday, and that's how I know what little I know. I'm sure he was probably ready to talk to you about the baby, but of course, all this has pushed that to the background. He's got a lot of decisions to make.”

“I feel like I should be helping him.”

“Let him come to you,” she said.

“I knew you'd say that. Can you believe Lola Listeria, though? Okay, enough about that. How are you feeling?”

“I'm great,” she said. “So is Civil Liberty. My amnio's been scheduled. I know you wanted to be at all the ultrasounds, but do you want to be there for this procedure, too?”

“Of course,” I said. “You told them we don't want to know the sex, right?”

“Yes. We won't have the results for about three weeks after the procedure, but they agreed to keep that out of the report. Of course, all my friends think I'm crazy. Now that the news is out, prepare yourself. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is an expert on pregnancy, childbirth, and childcare. But amazingly, none of these experts agree. Tell me again, why did we want to tell people we're pregnant?”

“Baby gifts,” I said. “For years, I've had to shell out money for wedding presents, anniversary presents, congratulations on your divorce presents, and baby presents. I'm expecting a big payoff.”