Yves right eyebrow shot up and he smiled. Then he went back to where Harris was sitting and said, “Isn't it perfect? I can't even imagine where this might lead. The company will start making great designs just for me. I'll model those designs better than anything Marco Denny has ever modeled. No one else knows about Jasper and me. Molly doesn't even know about it yet. You're the first person I've told."
"Molly knows enough not to be here right now,” Harris said. He started to feel sorry for Molly. Though he'd never been her biggest fan, he wouldn't have wished Yves Marisano on anyone. He'd always had his suspicions about Jasper being bisexual, but that wasn't the point. Whether or not Jasper Page was into men had nothing to do with the fact that Jasper loved his wife and had no intention of leaving her for Yves Marisano.
"It's all so fresh,” Yves said. “I'm still getting used to it myself."
"When did all this transpire?” Harris asked. He was curious, baiting him for answers. Harris hadn't even seen a hint of this so-called romance in the making. There were usually telltale signs, and at least a little gossip floating around.
"Just the other night,” Yves said, “Before we came down to Atlanta, Jasper came rushing to my apartment in the middle of the night. He couldn't stand being without me. He said he couldn't stand being with Molly anymore, and he wanted only me. We sat and talked until dawn. He told me his deepest, darkest secrets."
Harris smiled and clenched his fists. “So you talked? I can only imagine what you were wearing...or not wearing...as the case may be.” He found it hard to believe Yves took him for such a fool.
"Yes,” Yves said. “We just talked. Harris told me he's bisexual and he's been attracted to me since the first day we met. Then I asked him if I could have a five-year exclusive contract for the home shopping project, where I'm the only male model and where I have complete creative control."
The way Yves switched from love to business made Harris swallow back hard. “You truly are one of a kind, Yves. They broke the mold with you. You'd sell your grandmother for the right deal."
"Well, aren't you going to congratulate me?” Yves asked. “Say something.” He smiled.
Harris pressed his lips together and stood up from the chair. “Well, aren't you the blushing bride, sweetie?” he said. He adjusted his jacket. “What do you take me for, Yves?"
Yves's face dropped. He lowered his voice and said, “I don't
take
you at all. You're the one who has been taking
me
, and don't forget about it, Nancy.” Now he was insulting Harris's effeminate nature openly for the first time.
"Do you think I'm just as stupid as everyone else you've managed to fool, with your sneaky little tricks and backstabbing games?” Harris asked. “What kind of a dumb fag do you think I am? There isn't a game you've played I didn't invent."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Harris,” Yves said. But his voice trailed off at the end of the sentence. He didn't seem as strong now.
"Make no mistake, Yves,” Harris added. “I'm no one's fool."
"I never said you were."
"Yes, you did, and you still think I am. And I'm about to set the record straight."
"I'd like to take a nap,” Yves said. “I'm tired and I think this little talk is over, Harris."
"It's not over until I say it is,” Harris said. “We're going to talk, killer to killer. And it's long overdue."
"Winner to winner,” Yves said.
"You're out of your league,” Harris said. “Trust me, you're no match. And that shy, humble little voice you use with everyone else doesn't work with me. I know your kind. I've run across them too many times not to know."
"I think it's time you said what you want to say and leave so I can nap,” Yves said. “This conversation isn't going anywhere."
Harris titled his head and stared him down. He looked directly into Yves's eyes without flinching. “If Jasper leaves Molly, it won't be because of you."
"What are you talking about?"
"I haven't come all the way to Atlanta just to listen to your dreams, swap recipes, or stroll down Peachtree Road, Yves,” Harris said. “You're not going to be with Jasper or anyone else. Even if it were a remote possibility, which it isn't, I wouldn't allow it."
"What right do you have to tell me who I can be with?” Yves asked, shrugging his shoulders. He seemed to think this comment was amusing.
"I own you now,” Harris said.
"You own me?” Yves said, turning his back to Harris.
"I know it sounds cliche,” Harris said. “But the fact of the matter is I made you, I put you where you are, and now I own you. You're bought and paid for. I was hoping we wouldn't have to discuss it so openly. I was hoping you'd understand and just accept it."
Yves laughed. He turned and faced Harris. “This is too funny, old man. You think I'm going to bend your tired old wrinkled ass over for the rest of my life. I want a real man. I want Jasper."
Harris hauled off and slapped him in the face. He hadn't planned to slap him. Harris lost control of his emotions and it just happened.
Yves stood there for a moment, stunned. Then he grabbed Harris by the wrist and pushed him back into the wall near the front door. “Either you leave right now, or I'm calling hotel security,” Yves said, lifting his arms and clenching his fists. “I should just beat the hell out of you right now, but that wouldn't look good in the newspapers."
"You wouldn't lay a hand on me,” Harris said. “And you know it. Getting involved in a scandal right now could ruin your image of being the nice, sweet, innocent Yves Marisano."
"Then I'll call security and have you taken out,” Yves said.
"You won't do that either,” Harris said, regaining his balance and smoothing the back of his head. He knew Yves was strong, but he wasn't worried.
"Why not?"
"For starters,” Harris said, “You're not Yves Marisano. You're Harvey L. Fuchs. You come from a poor background in the Midwest, just like you said, but your parents never threw you out of the house and they never sent you to one of those religious places that try to turn gay men into straight men. They actually supported the fact that you were gay, and never tried to stop you from being who you are. They haven't heard from you in almost two years. They miss you and wonder about what you're doing all the time. You did have a sexual relationship with a man after high school. But he wasn't the captain of the football team, as you've claimed. The man you slept with was the forty year old high school football coach, with a wife and three children. And somehow you managed to get videos of the two of you having sex together. You were on top and he was on the bottom, as usual. When you threatened to expose him to the community with the video, he paid you five thousand dollars to leave town."
"No one knows about that video,” Yves said.
"I have my ways,” Harris said. “And I have a copy of the video."
"Get out of here,” Yves said. “You're nothing but a vicious old troll who preys on innocent young men.” Then he walked to the bedroom and slammed the door shut.
Harris followed him into the bedroom. Yves was lying across the bed, with his face buried in the pillows. “That five thousand dollars got you far, I must say. You managed to turn your back on your family, almost ruin the football coach's life, and lie about being an abused gay man who had been sent away to be reformed. With that one vicious lie about being sent away, you managed to mock young gay men all over the world who have suffered through all kinds of pain and anguish you'll never know, you selfish little prick. And what you did to Marco was even worse. He brought you into his home and life and trusted you. Then you tried to take Frazier away."
"I didn't try to take Frazier away,” Yves said. “You're babbling now. You're senile."
"I was there, you filthy liar,” Harris said. “I heard you from out in the hall. You almost feel on your knees trying to seduce him."
Yves turned his head. The rage in his eyes had softened. “I had to lie about my past,” he said. “I had to get into Marco's dressing room and I had to say something. I had to make them all feel sorry for me."
"Then you used my good name and my column to blackmail Molly into getting you this job with Frazier's home shopping project,” Harris said.
"Molly's a liar,” Yves said, pounding the mattress with his fist. “She's just jealous because Jasper's in love with me."
"You're delusional. I had lunch with Molly yesterday,” Harris said. “She thought she was trying to get information from me and as usual I wound up getting more from her. Would you like to change your story about how Jasper showed up at your apartment the other night?” Harris already knew Jasper had received a phone call and Yves's neighbor had begged Jasper to come over that night.
"Enough,” Yves said in a low voice. “I've had enough. I don't want to listen to any more, please."
Harris stood over the bed and watched him beg. He stared at him with contempt and said, “I'm not even sure why I want to be bothered with you. Big dick comes and goes. But I think it's because we're so much alike. We have no respect for other human beings. We're ambitious, we crave attention, and we know how to get exactly what we want. We deserve each other, you and I. Are you listening to me?"
Yves face was still buried in the mattress. He nodded yes.
"Then answer me,” Harris said, raising his voice. This was clearly a direct order and Harris was demanding respect.
"Yes,” Yves said. “I'm listening."
"Do you see why I own you?” Harris asked.
"Yes, Harris.” His body was limp.
"Take your nap and I'll see you later tonight during the next segment,” Harris said, turning to leave the room. “I'm sure you'll be every bit as wonderful as you were this afternoon."
When Harris reached the bedroom door, Yves lifted his head from the bed and said, “I can't do the segment tonight. I can't smile and pretend everything is okay. I just can't do it anymore."
Harris lowered his chin and laughed. “You must be joking,” he said. “You'll do the segment, you'll march your cute little ass around for the camera, and you'll sell even more clothes tonight than you sold this afternoon.” Then he turned his back and left Yves lying on the bed.
When Yves Marisano walked up to the head table to receive the Rendell Vista Award, he smiled with his head bowed. Marco, clenching his fists in his lap under the table, watched him move and glide in a tuxedo worth thousands of dollars. In less than a year's time, Yves had managed to receive the most coveted award in the industry, an award it had taken Marco years to receive. And without Marco, Yves would still be standing outside in the rain, waiting in a dark alley to get a glimpse of the life he'd craved for so long.
But then, Marco Denny had never played the dirty politics Yves had played. And these awards, like most awards in any other industry, were about politics. Marco had earned his award through hard work and dedication, not because of the people he'd slept with or the asses he'd kissed.
Molly was sitting next to Marco at their table. When Yves received the award and started to speak, she leaned into Marco's side and said, “I still can't believe I brought him back to your dressing room that night. How stupid could I have been?"
Marco smiled. “Don't be silly,” he said in soft voice. “If you hadn't brought him back, my life wouldn't have changed and I wouldn't be doing all the wonderful things I've been doing these past few months. You did me a favor.” He reached for his best friend's hand and squeezed it hard. “In a way, Yves helped open my eyes so I could see what really mattered to me.” Then he looked at Frazier and smiled.
After the night Yves had called Molly's apartment and asked Jasper to come over, Molly had confided in Marco. She'd called Marco the next morning and she'd told him the little trick she'd played on him. Poor Molly—she'd cried in Marco's arms later that day, apologizing for removing the gas from the car the weekend they'd spent in Vermont. She'd begged him for forgiveness when she'd told him how she'd deliberately made him miss the live taping of the reality show so Yves would have to take over in his place for just that one night. She'd said it was just a practical joke, to teach Marco a lesson about being humble to a nice young people like Yves.
Marco had held her in his arms while she'd sobbed. If she'd told him a few months earlier about what she'd done, he probably would have been furious with her. But he'd already begun planning for the future, and that future did not include working as a model on home shopping television. Marco had no intentions of ever doing a reality show on television again either. He wanted to continue modeling occasionally, but he wasn't going to let his career as a famous model define him any longer. Though Marco was getting older and his career was winding down, his life was better than it had ever been. He was happier than he'd ever been, and that was because he was lucky. He had a partner with whom he was madly in love, and his partner felt the same way about him.
He'd been productive, too. Marco had finished his book on household hints and he was planning to create a new division of Frazier North designs on his own. And it had nothing to do with modeling or fashion. Marco would focus on an entire lifestyle, from interior design to landscape design, and the household hints book would be the platform on which he'd build the entire concept.
When he first told Frazier about all this, Frazier wanted him to make a deal with the home shopping people so he could sell the book on television. Frazier said there was already a book like it on the competitive shopping channel and he thought Marco's book would be excellent competition. But Marco smiled and thanked Frazier, then declined. Marco had seen an awful household hints book on the competitive channel and he didn't want to be even remotely associated with that sort of thing. The other household hints book was nothing more than a contrived collection of trashy solutions, and the person who had written the book reminded Marco of a fast-talking, shifty snake oil salesman selling goods and wares that were all questionable.