Think Before You Speak (5 page)

I nodded. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Reggie gave me the once over, apparently
satisfied with my vow of silence. “Where are you staying?”

“The hotel just up the walk,” I said, jabbing
my thumb in the general direction.

“Can you meet me by the indoor pool around
midnight?”

“How about eleven?” I countered. It wouldn’t
hurt to shy away from Nick for a little bit.

“I’ll have to take my date home. How about
around eleven-thirty?”

“Deal.”

Whatever Reggie had planned to do in the
men’s room was forgotten as he straightened his suit and strolled
from the hallway. A peek around the corner saw him seated at a
table near the center of the restaurant, away from windows and
prying eyes. Second shocker of the night?

His date was female.

***

After dragging out dinner as long as possible
before returning to the hotel, Nick was none too happy with my
excuse of not packing enough condoms and needing to buy more. Hey,
I had to come up with something believable in order to sneak away
to meet Reggie. I doubted if mentioning running into a friend from
Dallas who needed to talk would’ve satisfied him either. Still, I
made my apologies, told him I didn’t expect to be long, and
mentioned he could wait up until my return.

Probably the wrong choice of words, I
realized when a wicked smile leaned into his lips. That was gonna
cost me later – but you’d hear no complaints from my end.

Reggie sat at a cast iron table near the pool
gate when I entered the quiet and empty atrium scented with a
chlorine bite strong enough to burn nostril hairs. He wore the same
strange attire – for him anyway. Same good looks for a man
approaching the far side of middle-age. Completely incongruous to
what I’d always
known
about him, but right about in line
with what I’d always
suspected
lay somewhere buried in the
past. My brain kept trying to reboot to smooth over the dichotomy
of seeing Reggie appearing – for lack of a better word –
normal.

The contents of a glass of wine from the
hotel bar swirled before he took a sip then noticed my approach and
held a second one out to me as I sat. I gladly took it and
swallowed half the contents in one gulp.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Reggie benignly
asked without the usual accent.

I think I actually growled. “Just a
friend.”

An eyebrow arch filled with doubt passed my
way. “Staying in the same room?”

“Yes.”

“Sleeping in the same bed?”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe.”

That earned me a snort before Reggie turned
serious. “I’ll bet you have a few questions for me.”

I nodded. “More than a few.”

A sheepish frown marred his sculpted face. A
guy his age should have a healthy dose of wrinkles already, which
made me wonder if he’d resorted to Botox to lie about his age on a
dating profile. No matter. From what Rochelle had shared about her
experience with the online dating world, it was pretty much a
given.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

“Mad? Nah.” I paused. “Confused? Maybe a
bit.”

“Where should I begin then?”

I drained the rest of the liquid courage.
“How about I start?”

Reggie stared at me, confusion swirling
across the angular planes of his face. “Okay.”

I took a deep breath before plunging ahead.
“I know all about your juvie record.”

Eyes bugged out in unexpected shock. “Say
what?”

“And your real name,” I continued. “I’ve
known for a long time.”

Fear swept across the table and practically
punched me in the gut. For a second I was afraid Reggie would keel
over, and I’d be forced to either perform CPR or explain a rather
awkward situation to my mother.

CPR might be easier.

“D-does your mother know?” Reggie
stuttered.

“No, no. Nothing like that. No worries from
that corridor.”

“Then how…?”

“I used to date a Texas Ranger. Matter of
fact, we’re still…friends.” I almost choked on the last word. Still
wasn’t sure what to call Zeke. Former lover? Recent landlord? My
nemesis?

“Go on,” Reggie nudged.

“Well see, I have this ability to read
people. See past the BS,” I explained.

“I’m well aware of your intelligence, though
why you stay in a dead-end bartender position, I’ll never…”

“
Anyway
, I’ve suspected since I was a
kid that your German accent was fake and that you were playing a
role of some kind. But it wasn’t until I mentioned it to my…Ranger
Zeke and he decided to look you up, that I found out about Reggie
Brown’s past gang association,” I finished blurting for all the
world to hear – that is, if there’d been anyone else near the pool
at this hour.

In case you weren’t yet aware, I have this
disease. You might know the one – foot-
in
-mouth. Has nothing
to do with cows, unless you too have developed a taste for the funk
and flavor of toe jam mixed with shoe leather.

The sucked-in breath released and devolved
into a crestfallen stare. Welling tears almost stopped me for a
second. “But I’ve never told anyone,” I soldiered on. “Well, except
for Zeke, but he wouldn’t say anything either. I swear.”

Reggie sucked in staccato breaths like an
asthmatic about to pass out from lack of oxygen. “I thought I’d put
all of that behind me when I left Texas for New York. Changed my
name. My persona. It took years to get that accent down just
right.”

“No doubt,” I said, patting his hand and
willing him to take a deep breath before I went hunting down a
paper bag. Not sure how I’d locate one in today’s recyclable
world.

“When I came back, I’d left Reggie Brown
behind in the City and returned as Reginald von Braun, designer
extraordinaire.” Arms spread wide in exaggerated animation before
drooping down the sides of the chair with a sigh. “No one will
allow juvenile delinquent
Reggie Brown
into their home to
transform it.”

“You don’t know that,” I offered in a weak
attempt to make him feel better.

“Oh, yes I do,” Reggie returned. “You were
lucky to grow up in that world. You’ve no idea how catty those
people can be to an outsider.”

That’s where Reggie was wrong. Sometimes
being a part of
that world
, where wealth and power were mere
façades to hide the rotting carcass hidden beneath the surface,
brought only heartache and misery. I knew firsthand the catty
antics of that crowd – and the freedom of breaking away from it.
But every choice had a price, and the reaper had come to collect on
Reggie’s.

Sorry for the horror movie reference.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” I
ventured.

“No, I’m not really gay,” Reggie
whispered.

Whoa! Now look who has a strong BS meter.
“Really?”

“It was all part of the persona I built while
in New York. The gay community there is vibrant and full of
talented people in the world of design, and I saw it as a way to
make a splash and rub shoulders with some of the best. But when
you’re only pretending…” He rubbed a manicured hand across his
cheek, which called into question how much pretending was going on.
“I’ve felt awful and disgusted with myself for years because I used
those friendships to further my own career.”

“And you’ve only
pretended
for thirty
years?”

With mocha skin it’s hard to distinguish a
blush, but the pause made me want to kick myself for asking a
question that was clearly none of my business. Damn my
disease-ridden mouth.

As my mother always says,
when in doubt,
redirect
. “So was that woman you had dinner with tonight your
girlfriend?”

He shrugged. “We met online a few weeks ago
and have talked on the phone since. With minimal clients in the San
Antonio area, I thought a bit of distance offered a safer option to
meet people. Far enough away from my usual circle while still close
enough to make any potential relationship work.”

“Makes sense.”

“Dressed like this, who would notice, much
less recognize me?” Reggie asked. “What are the chances I’d run
into you?”

“One in a million?” I quipped.

Reggie cradled his head in his hands with a
groan. “So now what do I do? Work is booming. I’ve got an
interested buyer for the business. I’m all set to retire on top,
and now this.”

“Go on as before,” I said, trying to avoid
the idea of life without my flamboyant friend. “I’ll always keep
your secret, Reggie.”

“What about your Ranger friend?”

“I can talk to him if you’d like.”

He waved the offer away with a sharp flick of
his wrist like the Reggie I knew and loved. “No need. If a Texas
Ranger can’t be trusted, we’re all in trouble.”

“Here, here.” I raised my glass and licked
the remaining drops. “I really need to get back to my room. When
are you heading home?”

“Tuesday morning. The job awaits,” he said in
his usual dramatic fashion before wilting like a flower on the
vine. “I really thought I’d left it all behind…until recently.”

“You mean besides tonight?”

“Well…yes.” A tear snaked down his cheek and
left a splotch on his lovely suit.

I reached across the table and grasped his
baby soft hand. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Aw, Victoria. If only you were the one I had
to worry about, this would all blow over like the latest political
scandal.”

“You’re scaring me, Reggie. Who else
knows?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea. But
whoever it is I…I’m being blackmailed.”

There’s something about the Alamo that brings
the fight out of any native Texan. Morning, noon, or night,
standing on the flagstones of the complex made you just want to
call out that venerated, barnstorming battle cry –
Remember the
Alamo!

Maybe it was just me. Or perhaps more that I
wanted to string someone up for going after dear Reggie, wherever
that man was tonight.

Nah. It might be something a little more
visceral – like jealousy.

Monday night I stood waiting inside the edge
of a flashing photography perimeter set up around the Church, the
most familiar and recognizable of the buildings in the Alamo
complex. The massive photo lights were bright enough to sunburn the
average person on this warm night, with flashes in such rapid
succession as to induce seizures. I got nauseous if I watched too
long – or maybe that was the alcohol.

After the latest dizzying session ended,
colorful gel lights splashed over the limestone walls in a
kaleidoscope of color as worker bees changed up the set for the
next shoot segment. Gawkers and passersby were in short supply this
late in the evening, but that didn’t stop the few strolling by from
getting a birds-eye view of plenty of skin.

I’d always assumed modeling was about the
clothes. My mistake.

When Nick came tromping from the make-up tent
in boots and wearing nothing but a white speedo and Stetson with a
couple of six-shooters holstered low on his hips, I got to
wondering exactly
what
he was supposed to be modeling. After
a skimpily attired female with a black hat nuzzled up to him
wearing the feminine version of the boots Nick sported, I realized
the footwear were the fashionable items up for bid in the next
make-out – er, photography session.

The little green-eyed monster of jealousy
clawed onto my back when the photographer had her mount Nick like a
stallion. The glass of wine I held emptied right quick, and before
shards embedded permanently in my palm, I had to search out the
services table for another one.

Now I understood how models stayed so skinny.
No food, but water and wine flowed in abundance. The offerings
seemed appropriate, considering the church location.

Irritation heated my collar when another girl
handed the female model a lasso and riding crop. I thought for sure
I’d send up unintended smoke signals any second. Instead I
convinced the beverage attendant to hand over a bottle of whatever
was handy. Champagne. Not my first choice in preparations from the
vine, but it worked in a pinch.

This was fashion modeling? Seemed more like
one step shy of Porn Stars ‘R Us – and in front of an historic
church, no less. Not sure if the Daughters of the Republic of Texas
would consider this display an offensive desecration of the
historic site, or if they’d be lining up to get their pictures
taken with Nick.

Okay, I seemed to be channeling Mom and the
pious purveyors tonight. Not a pleasant comparison. Hmm. How much
had I drank?

Time to get a grip. This was Nick’s job, and
I had to deal with it instead of acting like a jealous female. A
ball and chain. Like a…
girlfriend
?

Oh, hey-to-the-nay. I needed a distraction
right quick.

“No, I’m here to see Victoria Bohanan.”

Ask and you shall receive. Reggie’s pleasant
tenor broke through the darkening haze, and I hustled my heated
haunches over to the guarded check-in set up around the shootout.
“It’s okay, guys. He’s with me.”

The two security guards gave me the onceover
before one checked a clipboard. “Vicki, right? Says here you’re a
guest too.”

“That’s right.” I hiccupped. “Of Nick’s.” I
pointed to the area of flashing lights where the female model had
lassoed a stallion and was pawing at his pecs. And I’d thought
those were all mine.

“Guests can’t have guests, ma’am.”

“Just as well. Care for a walk, Reggie?” I
asked, handing over the bottle to the clipboard-less guard. “I
could use a little fresh air.”

Arm draped through Reggie’s, we strolled
across the cobbled square toward the gardens. “You’re late,” I
admonished. “If you’d waited any longer to arrive, you would’ve had
to scrape a female off the limestone walls of that church.”