Molly frowned and reached for his arm. “You take this all so seriously, Yves,” she said. “The fashion industry is a vicious, superficial place to be sometimes. There's always another trend, or someone is stealing someone else's ideas. It's the way it goes. Give yourself some time. With hard work, you'll get what you want eventually. You're a young man and you have talent."
Yves continued to stare at the floor. He wiped a tear from his right eye.
Then Molly stood up. She hadn't expected to wind up feeling sorry for Yves. But she did. She felt sorry for the fact that he was so young, that he'd allowed his ambitions to control him, and that he'd fallen prey to the likes of a dirty old man like Harris Wolfe. “Believe it or not,” Molly said. “If you need any help, I'll be more than willing to offer my support.” She meant it, too.
Yves reached for Molly's hand. “There is something you can do,” he said. He squeezed her hand and looked into her eyes.
Molly froze. She gazed down at him with a blank expression. “I think I know."
"It's something very important,” Yves said.
"You want the job modeling Frazier North designs on the home shopping project,” Molly said. Her voice was low and soft. She was shocked Yves would have the nerve to ask for this after all the harm he'd already done to Marco.
"If you asked Jasper to give me the job,” Yves said. “He'd do it."
"But Marco has been planning to do this project as soon as the reality show ends,” Molly said. “He's worked his entire schedule around it."
When Molly tried to free her hand from Yves's grip, he yanked it hard. His innocent face disappeared and his gritty, ambitious face returned. He lowered his voice and clenched his teeth. “Listen, sweetie,” he said. “If you don't get me this job, it will be interesting to see how Marco reacts when he finds out about the little trick you played on him when you had the gas drained from the car so he'd miss the show on purpose. I can just see the look on his face when he finds out the truth. And when I tell Harris what you did, he'll want to print the entire story in a column. That old queen will love this more than he loves his old disco collection from the ‘70s."
Molly stood there staring at him with wide eyes. She didn't know what to say or how to react. No one had ever blackmailed her before.
Yves released her hand and lifted his chin. “You'd better sit down again,” he said. “You look a little confused."
When Molly sat down, Yves said, “If I get this job, no one will ever know what happened. You'll be able to save your dear, longtime friendship with Marco, and Harris will never know about it. Let's consider it an even exchange. I'm actually doing something good for you by not letting Marco find out about how you tricked him, and you'll be doing something good for me by getting me this job. Besides, I've wanted to pay you back for all the wonderful things you've already done for me.” He laughed and tapped her knee with the tips of his fingers.
Molly just sat there speechless. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she never would have believed it. If Yves's face had turned green and his head had gone around in complete circles, she wouldn't have been more surprised than she already was.
When Yves finally stood to leave, Molly looked up at him and said, “You'd do all this for a job as a model?” She had trouble believing anyone would stoop so low to walk back and forth on a stage to show off clothing. This kind of vicious competition, in which someone was willing to do anything to yank success out of someone else's hand, was something Molly would never understand.
"I've done much worse than this,” Yves said in his deepest, lowest voice.
"I'll bet you have,” Molly said, staring down at her lap.
Yves didn't respond. He adjusted his jacket, turned toward the dining room, and left her sitting there alone.
When Molly pulled herself together and returned to the others, she walked past Harris's and Yves's table without looking at them. She sat down and told the others nothing important had happened with Yves in the lounge. She said Yves had apologized and they had exchanged a few simple words. But Molly's stomach was turning and her heart was aching. She wasn't sure what to do. There weren't many options. She either had to tell Marco the truth about what had happened the night he'd missed his performance on the live show, or she had to ask Jasper to give Yves the job on the home shopping project. The only thing she was sure about was that Marco would get mad at her and probably never speak to her again no matter what she did.
But then something happened she hadn't expected. While Molly was trying to find a way out of her predicament, Marco started talking about his future plans. He said he was tired of modeling and he wanted to pursue his secret project. He said he'd been thinking about his life and his future for a long time and he wanted a few changes. And now that he and Frazier were getting married, he wanted to spend more time having fun and concentrating on their relationship. He even talked about adopting children and raising a family. They were getting older and Marco didn't want to miss out on the important things in life. He'd always wanted to be a father.
"I've changed,” Marco said.
Molly had never heard Marco speak this way. He even said he didn't care about Yves anymore. He didn't want anything to do with Yves ever again, and he didn't want to waste precious time talking about him.
Molly forced a smile and pressed her hand to her throat. “You sound as if you've gone through a metamorphosis,” she said. “Forgive me if I'm a little shocked."
"And I may as well announce right now,” Marco said, “that I'm not going to be doing the home shopping project. I'll be doing the spring show and I'll fulfill all my other obligations indefinitely. But I want time to work on my own new project when the reality show wraps up. And there just won't be time to do the home shopping project."
Frazier shrugged his shoulders and said, “You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
"You don't want to do the home shopping project?” Molly asked. Suddenly, it felt as though a huge boulder had been lifted from her chest. She wouldn't have to make a choice. Marco had already done it for her.
Marco shook his head. “No,” he said. “I don't want to do it.” Then he reached for Frazier's hand. “I want to spend more time with the man I love and I want to start enjoying my wonderful life. I'm not in my twenties anymore and I'm tired of pretending I am. There has to be more to life than looking young and being too thin, and I'm going to find out what it is."
Molly blinked, then started laughing. Her worries were over now, and no one would get hurt. She couldn't stop laughing. She laughed so hard the others stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. Marco even reached for her champagne glass and put it on the other side of the table so she couldn't drink anymore.
Yves was finally getting what he wanted. When it was announced Marco Denny would not be part of the home shopping project for Frazier North Designs, Edgar Dupree signed Yves to his modeling agency and Jasper offered Yves the job instead. Jasper told Yves that Marco wasn't interested in doing the project and they needed a professional model fast. He offered Yves more money, not to mention celebrity and fame, than Yves had ever imagined. Yves argued for a few minutes that he could never be as good as Marco, but then he accepted the offer with his usual balance of humility and apprehension.
No one bothered to tell Yves why Marco had decided not to do the project. They tried to play it down as much as they could. It was reported Marco wanted to focus on the aspects of his modeling career he'd neglected while he'd been doing the reality show, he wanted to develop a new project he'd been working on, and he wanted to focus more on his charity work. Yves didn't ask questions either. Though he'd never be sure of the exact reasons Marco had decided to step away from the project, Yves had what he wanted and that was all that mattered to him.
Even though the home shopping segments would be aired from Atlanta, they rehearsed for the segments in New York months ahead of time. Jasper and Frazier wanted the segments to be smooth and well orchestrated. When viewers tuned in to see what Frazier North designs were all about, Jasper and Frazier wanted everything to be as planned and perfect as possible. Yves was there and on time for every rehearsal. He did what he was told to do and never caused a problem. Though it was uncomfortable at first, because Frazier didn't seem happy about Yves doing the job, Yves always managed to smooth things over and make things right because Yves wanted these segments to go well for him, too. He didn't give a damn about Frazier North designs. He cared even less about whether or not Frazier and Jasper agreed on something. But he was concerned with his own career.
While they were in the middle of rehearsals a few days before they were leaving for Atlanta, something unexpected happened. Yves noticed Jasper staring at his ass. Yves had been modeling underwear that afternoon, a skimpy pair of white boxer briefs with tiny little orange butterflies on the waistband. He was wearing a size too small; his ass rounded out and his crotch bulged forward. They were working on his walk when he noticed Jasper staring. Jasper was holding a clipboard in one hand and a pencil in the other. While he stared at Yves's ass, he chewed the eraser on the pencil. He didn't think anyone was watching. Yves wasn't even sure if Jasper was conscious of what he was doing. But that was all Yves had to see. He'd always had a feeling Jasper was either gay or bisexual—just intuition. And being married to that awful frump, Molly, for so long would have turned any man gay. This was an opportunity Yves didn't want to miss. If he couldn't take Frazier away from Marco, he could at least try to take Jasper away from Molly. Yves didn't consider Molly much of a threat.
So that same night, after he'd gone back to his little apartment in Gramercy Park, Yves called the guy who lived across the hall and asked him for a favor. He paid the guy one hundred dollars to phone Jasper's home in the middle of the night, then he stood there listening to it all on speakerphone.
"Hello,” Molly said hoarsely. It was well after one in the morning. She must have been sleeping.
"I'd like to talk to Mr. Page,” the neighbor said. He winked at Yves.
"Who is this?” Molly asked.
"You don't know me,” the neighbor said. “I'm a friend of Yves Marisano. I've seen Mr. Page with Yves a few times and I have to talk to him. It's an emergency."
"An emergency?"
Molly's question was never answered. Evidently, Jasper pulled the phone out of her hand and said, “Who is this?"
"I'm a friend of Yves Marisano. There's something wrong with Yves. He's crying and he won't stop."
"He's crying?” Jasper asked.
"Yes,” the neighbor said. “I didn't know who else to call."
"I'll be right over,” Jasper said.
When Japer hung up, the neighbor clicked off the phone and Yves handed him two fifty-dollar bills. They smiled at each other, and the neighbor went back to his own apartment so Jasper would find Yves all alone when he arrived. Yves wished he could have seen the expression on Molly's puffy pink face when Jasper told her where he was going in the middle of the night. He laughed when he thought about her sitting up in bed, wearing her flannel nightgown, waiting for Jasper to return.
A half hour later, there was a knock on Yves's door. Yves didn't answer. He was in his bedroom, lying across the bed, wearing the white boxer shorts with the yellow butterflies he'd modeled earlier that day. After a few more knocks, Jasper entered the small apartment and crossed toward Yves's bedroom. He took cautious steps, as if terrified he might find something awful.
When he stood in Yves's bedroom doorway and saw Yves lying across the bed, he knocked on the door frame and said, “What's wrong? Your neighbor called and said you wouldn't stop crying."
Yves's face was buried in a pillow. He smiled for a second, then sat up on the bed. He rubbed his eyes and spread his legs. “I'm so sorry my neighbor called you. I didn't want him to call. I feel even worse now that I've made you come over here in the middle of the night."
Jasper frowned. He walked into the bedroom. “Don't be sorry. I'm glad he called. There's obviously something wrong."
Yves looked up at him and tightened his lips. Jasper was wearing a rust suede jacket, a pair of faded jeans, and a white T-shirt. Jasper must have jumped out of bed and pulled the first things he saw in his closet. Yves had a feeling Jasper wasn't wearing underwear. He could see the outline of Jasper's penis in his jeans. Jasper wasn't a bad-looking man at all. He resembled Kevin Bacon with much darker hair. At least this time Yves would go down on his knees to get what he wanted without holding his nose.
"I'm okay,” Yves said. “Really I am."
Jasper smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached for Yves's hand and said, “Tell me what's wrong, Yves. Maybe I can help."
Yves sniffed and his head jerked back. He took a deep breath and threw his arms around Jasper. Jasper's shoulders were wider than he'd imagined. He smelled like warm spices and clean fresh towels. While he held Jasper, Yves buried his face in the crook of Jasper's neck and sobbed a few times for added effect.
Jasper hesitated for a moment. Then he put his arms around Yves and patted his naked back. “It's okay,” Jasper said. “Tell me all about it, you poor kid. You can think of me as a father figure if you want."
Yves wiped his eyes and lifted his head. But he didn't remove his arms from Jasper's shoulders. “I just feel so awkward and strange,” he said. “Today while I was walking around in my underwear on the set, I started wondering if I was ready to do this project. This is big. If I screw this up, everyone's going to blame me.” He hadn't felt this way at all. Yves knew he'd looked good in the underwear and he knew he'd do well. Actually, he'd loved walking around in his underwear in front of everyone. It made his heart race and his testicles tighten. When one of the stagehands followed him back to his dressing room and smiled, Yves pulled the stage hand into the dressing room and blew him so fast no one even knew the stagehand had left the set.