I'm Your Man (22 page)

S
heila and I were both dazzled by the blindingly white Fontainebleau Hilton. I missed Manhattan, a city with the balls to put its grit and grime out there for everyone to see. I suspected that anything so pristine must have evil lurking somewhere. I'd chosen the hotel because it was close to the following day's shoot, but also because of its reputation for hosting celebrities. I was sure Sheila could be pampered without worrying about intruders like Lola Listeria leaping out from behind tropical plants to record her every move.

“You know what this place looks like?” Sheila asked. “Remember when we were kids, and you'd come over to watch cartoons with Jake and me? Doesn't this look like the Hall of Justice on
Superfriends?
”

I laughed, although I shouldn't have been surprised that Sheila's analogy reflected my sense that the Legion of Doom was out there. Daniel and I had always sworn she could read our minds.

“I'm amazed that you remember that, since it was on opposite
The Smurfs.
You'd cry for the whole half hour because we wouldn't let you watch those little blue freaks,” I said.

“Twenty years later, and you still think you're running my life,” she said and strode into the hotel.

I hung back to pay and tip our driver while he transferred our bags to the care of the bellman. As I put my wallet back in my pocket, I heard her shriek inside the lobby. I smiled, knowing my plan had worked, then sauntered inside. I almost shrieked, too. I'd just located the evil lurking within—acres of red and green tropically patterned carpet in the lobby.

Sheila was in Josh's arms, the two of them rocking back and forth in a warm embrace. After they kissed, Sheila turned and looked at me. “Did you do this?”

“This carpet? I had nothing to do with it.”

Sheila looked down, blanched, and looked back at me with a shudder. “Not that. Josh.”

“Guilty,” I answered as Josh grinned.

“We got away with it, huh?” he asked.

“Looks that way,” I said.

“What are you doing here? What is he doing here?” she asked me, not waiting for an answer from her fiancé.

“There's not much sense having a photo shoot without a photographer, is there? Let's have a drink before we go to our rooms.”

Inside the Garden Lobby Bar, we chose a table near a glass wall that provided a sweeping view of the lobby, ordered our drinks, and sat back. Despite the frustration of planning their wedding, Sheila looked radiant because she was with Josh. I was happy that she no longer looked exhausted, for her own good as well as for the sake of our ads.

“You'll never guess who I saw a couple of days ago in New York,” Josh said.

“Adam?” Sheila asked.

“Someone told you!” Josh gave me a knowing look. “Yes, Adam. We had a good time. Went out to dinner and had a couple of beers.”

“When the cat's away . . .” Sheila began.

“The mice go bar-hopping,” Josh said and laughed. “He came up with a great idea. I know you and I haven't discussed this, but I think you'll love it when you hear it.”

“Uh-huh,” Sheila said, sounding wary.

“I told him how frustrated you've been trying to find the right place for the ceremony and reception. We wracked our brains thinking of places that would be special. And large. Then Adam had his idea.” I could tell Josh was a little nervous about her reaction when he raced through his explanation. “Adam suggested having our wedding at his place. He has room for tons of people. The property's big enough to accommodate one of those wedding tents. He said we could have the wedding and the reception there. I thought it was a great idea, but there's more.”

“Go on.” Sheila seemed to be thinking it over.

“We went to Daniel's to knock some ideas around, and the three of us came up with an even better plan.”

“Yeah? What's that?” Sheila's curiosity was starting to get the best of her. I was just grateful the mention of Daniel's name hadn't prompted stricken looks my way.

“We decided to have two tents. One for the wedding, and the other for the reception. Doesn't that make sense?”

“I guess it does,” Sheila answered.

“Daniel is going to take care of the plants and the decorations and stuff, or at least the design aspect. Adam said he'd follow through on whatever Daniel says to do. He'll also arrange security.”

I realized that I was holding my breath, just as Josh seemed to be. We'd both been subjected to Sheila's recent unpredictable and volatile moods. After a pause, she threw her arms around him, exclaiming, “I'm so lucky to be marrying you! I love you so much.”

Josh beamed, hugging his bride-to-be and giving her a big kiss. “You don't mind that we took some of this stuff over?”

“Are you kidding? We both know what we want. Besides, you're the creative one in this outfit. I'm just the pretty one.” She laughed, knowing how untrue that statement was. Josh was pretty, too.

Josh turned to me and said, “I almost forgot. Adam and I were talking about the progress that's been made toward setting up Lillith Allure's new offices. That same afternoon, I got the invitation in the mail for the opening gala. Pretty snazzy; they must have cost a fortune. It looks like it'll be a great party. I hope Sheila and I can make it.”

We laughed at the idea of the company's spokesmodel being a no-show. I was certain Lillith had gone to great lengths to make sure the event would not be star-crossed.

Later, after Sheila and Josh went to their suite, I settled into my room, running over my mental list of all that would have to be done to complete the next two photo shoots and the television spots I'd set up. I jumped when my cell phone rang and flipped it open.

“Lions?” Lillith asked.
“Lions?”

“Lillith?
Lillith?”

She laughed, and I was relieved. She didn't always handle her business with a sense of humor.

“I think you should know, in 40
A.D
., Bonnie—she was a centurion, then—had me thrown to the lions. But not before she snatched my amulet from around my neck. Be that as it may, Frank approved it, so I suppose it's too late now. Proceed.”

She hung up without another word. As I snapped my phone shut, I remembered my message and looked up my brother's number.

“Hello?”

“Nicky?” I asked.

“Chuck,” he said. I panicked, wondering how I was going to explain a call to Nicky. But I didn't have to, since I heard Chuck drop the phone and yell Nicky's name. Apparently phone etiquette was a thing of the past. After a pause, Nicky picked up the phone.

“Nicky, it's Blaine. I'm returning your call.”

“You didn't have to. Did you tell Chuck it was you?”

“No. What's up?”

“Nothing.”

“You must have called for a reason. Did you need to talk about something?”

“No.”

I suppressed my sigh, trying to remember what it was like to be a teenager. Which didn't work, because I felt like Nicky, at fifteen, was braver than I'd been at twenty-five. After a moment, a solution presented itself. I tried to imagine Daniel at fifteen.

“Did something happen at school?”

“Yeah,” Nicky said, and I felt grateful for Daniel's diatribes about his troubled youth.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“All right,” Nicky said. “We have to choose our classes for next year. Should I take drawing or photography?”

I almost felt disappointed. I was not staying in the Hall of Justice, after all. I was in the Hall of Guidance Counselors. While we talked about his schedule, he asked me several questions about the advertising business, which seemed to explain why he'd called me. But as our conversation wound down, he surprised me with a question.

“Uncle Blaine, do you have a boyfriend?”

“I did. We broke up.”

“Why?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Why do people always change the subject when they get a tough question?”

“There's no easy answer,” I said. It dawned on me that, regardless of his age, trust was something that had to work both ways. “Relationships are complicated. I can't narrow it down to one pat answer. But I can say that we wanted different things.”

“So it was easier to break up than work it out?”

I held the phone away from myself and briefly took on the appearance of a mime screaming loud enough to shatter glass. “Something like that, I guess,” I said, wondering why I was the one who felt like I was fifteen.
“Do
you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope. My mom's home. I have to go.”

“Do you have an e-mail address?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“You've got mine. You can call or e-mail me anytime.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said and hung up.

I stared at the phone, thinking I had two choices. I could either dispatch Violet to teach phone manners to everyone who called me, or I could do what I really wanted to do. I dialed the phone and waited through the customary three rings.

“Hello?”

“I think my nephew is gay,” I said.

“That's an opening,” Daniel said.

“Original?”

“No, you're the third one today.”

“The reason I'm calling is because rumor says that we're going to be attending the same wedding.”

“I need to call Demi Moore and tell her to keep her kids off the phone,” Daniel said.

It took me a few seconds to figure that one out, then I laughed. “I was wondering if we could agree to be civil. For Sheila and Josh.”

“I don't want to talk about that yet. Let's get back to the nephew thing.”

I must have been thinking about Nicky's question, because I heard myself ask, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Your nephew's too young for me. Is this the hunky one that plays football?”

“No, and he's too young for you, too. This is the formerly geeky twin.”

“Nicky?”

“Right.” I told him what had been going on with Nicky, finishing with my doubts about whether I'd been any help, or could be.

“He called you, Blaine. You must be doing something right.” I'd forgotten how supportive Daniel could be. “And the answers are yes. And no.”

“Yes, you have a boyfriend?”

“Yes, we can be civil at the wedding. No, I have a boyfriend.”

“Wait, does that mean yes or no?”

I could almost hear Daniel count to ten before he said, “I have no boyfriend.”

“But you're seeing someone?”

“That was just a friend with me at Whole Foods.”

“Gretchen told me you're seeing someone.”

“Gretchen was misinformed.” There was a long pause. “By me.”

“Because?”

“Can we talk about the nephew thing again?”

“Daniel . . .”

“Because I thought
you
had a boyfriend. I was being petty and insecure. Then Sheila told me he's your personal assistant.”

I'd also forgotten how honest Daniel could be. I decided to be as honest. “I've dreaded making this call. But it hasn't gone too badly, has it?”

“No. See? We can be civil.”

“I'm glad.”

“Me, too,” Daniel said, and added, “The next one might be easier.”

That sounded promising, and I figured we should quit while we were ahead. “I have to get back to work. I'll—”

“Don't say you'll call me,” Daniel said, and I felt my heart turn over. He'd said that to me after the first time we'd had sex.

“You remember that?” I asked.

“Of course I remember. I told you to say, ‘See ya.' ”

“And I did.”

“Then
I
said, ‘I'll call you.' And I will, Blaine.”

“Okay.”

I assessed myself for damage after we hung up, but I only felt good. Our conversation had consisted of none of the drama and recrimination I'd feared it would. And Daniel didn't have a boyfriend. And he said he'd call me.

I was amazed at how well the work in Miami went. I examined the contact sheets while I rode to my apartment. There could have been any number of problems, since we'd used real lions for the Leo shoot. I was sure Sheila had visions of being mauled. On the other hand, I'd had visions of the lions not wanting to be photographed, or not sitting still long enough for Josh to get the shots I wanted.