Mastered 2: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender (88 page)

All that makeup she’d had on the night before appeared under these florescent hospital lights as a watercolor painting all over her pretty face.

“What’s going on, Lex? Tell me.”

Vive sat up from the floor and rested her chin on my knee. I stroked her bleach-blonde hair. She was a mask of stone. Her sunglasses remained on. I couldn’t see her eyes, but the tears, the sadness, they streaked her cheeks as if the white waves of a speedboat had just jetted by. Even Hedda who lay somberly next to her had an expression of mute wretchedness.

“Taddy miscarried,” Lex said in a choked voice, pushing the bag of candy into her purse.

“A baby?” I cried out.

“The doctors did everything they could to prevent her from going into labor, but she delivered the fetus a few hours ago. She hemorrhaged and has lost a ton of blood. They’re giving her a transfusion.”

A primitive grief, one I’d never experienced, overwhelmed me. For the first time in my life, I felt despair and didn’t know what to do next but cry along with them.

Part Two

Shit Storm

“Blake Morgan III was the first gay person I ever met. We were kids. He was tall and handsome. I would do anything for that man. Why, you ask? Because there aren’t many people like Blake out there in this world. He’s kind and loving, sweet and funny, and would do anything for anyone he cared about. I love that about him. We all do.” –Taddy Brill, vivacious redhead, supermodel, and dethroned descendant of the Austrian House of Brillford royalty.

Chapter Four

Paging Dr. Phil

The shock of the situation had caused a ringing sound in my ear. As if the university’s campus siren had sounded off, alerting the students to run as fast as they could for cover because the world was coming to an end.

In a way, my world just had.

Dazed and unable to comprehend the nightmare I was living in, I faced my besties in the waiting room at Manhattan General Hospital after learning my BFF wasn’t doing so well and asked, “Taddy was—pregnant?”

“No one knew. Not even her.” Lex closed her eyes, looking utterly miserable, and confessed, “She was about four months along.”

“Fuck.” I bit my lip until it throbbed like the ringing in my ear.

“Do you have Leon’s number?” Vive asked in a low, tormented tone.

I felt my mouth open in dismay.

Leon Lartique was a year older than Taddy. They’d met in Miami at a photo shoot for
Claire Le Femme
magazine. He worked on the set as the lighting designer. A tall, muscular Frenchman. He’d been her summer fling.

More importantly, Leon was the only guy Taddy had ever been with. He lived in Paris with his…boyfriend. He’s a bisexual.

“I do. Yes. Why?”

Vive thrust her fingers through her blonde hair and declared, “Cause Taddy wants you to be the one to call and tell him to get his butt over here.”

“Me?” I stiffened at the question.

Birdie nodded gloomily.

“Is Taddy going to be okay?”

“The miscarriage was pretty severe.” Vive clamped her jaw tight and removed her sunglasses. Her stone-colored eyes were glassy. “The doctors said it
might
ruin her future chances of carrying a baby to term.”

In confusion, I lowered my gaze to Lex. “I don’t understand how this happened…”

“The white wine spritzers ya’ll drank last night were laced with something the detectives are calling GHB. A ketamine/Rohypnol combo. That caused Taddy’s heartrate to skyrocket. So did the fetus'. The doctors aren’t sure, but they think
it
went into cardiac arrest inside the womb and died.”

“Fuck, Lex. The baby is not an
it.
We’re talking about Taddy’s unborn child here. And
he
or
she
died today.” Jerking to her feet, swooping Hedda up in her arms, Vive marched off toward the direction of the restrooms. The stilettos she’d worn the night before made a loud clacking noise.

“Viveca!” I called out after her. She’d given her baby away when we were in the tenth grade. I imagined this miscarriage of life was almost as hard for her as it was for Taddy. In one way or another, they’d both experienced the loss of a child.

“Let her be. She’s tired.” Birdie’s fingers fluttered around her diamond statement necklace. I could tell she struggled to keep it together, too. Taddy had been almost like a daughter to her. She’d helped raised her when the Brillfords had abandoned their parental duties.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” Lex started to sob.

“Taddy’s gonna pull through,” I comforted them.

“This is horrible. Just horrible,” Birdie added between cries.

We sat and waited for our BFF to be released. Lex told me that Officer Ford Gotti—the inked superhero who’d popped her cherry—had dumped her the second he found out she had gone to Glamorama.

As if I couldn’t feel even more horrible. I did. I swore off bars and booze right then and there. No more drama for me. Just school and my studies going forward.

I watched the nurses change shifts, cleaning ladies mop the same floor over and over again, and I reflected and thought about the past twenty-four hours.

* * *

Diego came back with pastrami sandwiches. Hoping it would give me enough strength and courage to call Leon, I tried to take a few bites. The Swiss cheese, sauerkraut, kosher pickles and Russian dressing on crusty rye bread had never tasted so good. I’d been starving.

While Birdie watched TV, trash-talking the male lead on the screen (apparently she’d done a movie with him at one time), Lex and Vive started to doze off. I took out my cell, grabbed Diego’s hand and headed outside for some fresh air.

In silence, we walked a few blocks over to the East River. It was cold for that time of year, but not freezing. I had my scarf, Diego gave me his hat to wear and I had on gloves. The temperature was maybe in the mid-forties. It felt good, the winter air. I needed to breathe and clear my mind.

I stared ahead, facing the colossal neon-lit Pop Art Pepsi Cola sign, thinking what an eyesore it must have been when it went up back in its day. We studied Pepsi that semester in my Intro Consumer Marketing class. I’d learned how in time residents grew to embrace the glowing sign as a symbol of New York’s industrial past. I guess if you give people enough time, they can adjust to anything. Right?

How would Leon take the news about Taddy? I had no idea where his mind was with his international love affair which had been going on for the last few months.

“Diego…I don’t want to make this call.” A flicker of apprehension ran through me as I studied his face, praying he’d give me a way out.

“You’re doing it for Taddy, remember?”

“Right. I know.” I tried to put myself in my BFF’s shoes. “I just don’t know what to say.”

“The truth.”

My eyes met the phone’s screen. I was mad at myself for even having his number. Taddy had gone to Paris a few times to see him that semester and had given it to me just to be safe. He’d paid for her flight and told her he was in love with her. But there was just one snafu: his boyfriend, Fabian Henry. Taddy cared for him, too, and she had a good head on her shoulders about the whole open relationship thing.

Personally, I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea. But Taddy being Taddy was open-minded. I admired that about her.

I pushed on Leon’s name to dial his number.

“Bonjour,”
Leon answered on the fourth ring.

My voice was shakier than I would’ve liked. We small-talked for a minute or so before anxiety spurted through me. I interrupted him mid-sentence and told him what had gone down. He said many things in French that I didn’t understand, but I could tell after the shock had worn off he was left with sadness.

“So then, you’re coming to New York?” I lingered on whether or not I cared. Taddy could get by just fine without him. She had Lex, Vive and me to care for her. What good could he possibly do for our BFF?

“
Oui
... Shouldn’t I be there for Taddy?”

“Yes. It’s just that—” A pulsating knot within me wanted to know what his intentions were with my friend.
What’s done is done
. It wasn’t my business, but in a way she’d given me the right to
make
it my business by having me place the call, so I asked, “What about your boyfriend?”

“Fabian?” His voice shot up in surprise. “He has nothing to do with that. The
bébé
is…was…mine. Not his.”

“I don’t want my best friend to get hurt any more than she already is.”

In French, he cussed at me to mind my own business. At least it seemed like a swear word or two. Then he said, “Tell Taddy that
je l'aime tellement
. Thank you for calling, Blake. See you in a few days.
Au revoir
.” He hung up.

As I slipped the phone back in my pocket, I glared at Diego who was shaking his head.

“What?” I knew I’d just behaved badly.

“Why did you have to ask him about his boyfriend?” He searched my face for a plausible explanation.

Hearing his question made my nerves tense immediately. It confirmed that once again, I stuck my nose is something which was absolutely none of my flippin’ business.

Over the summer, I’d been the one who coaxed Birdie into going to rehab. It had been a risky move, but it’d paid off: she was finally sober and better than ever.

See…I always tried to do right by people. Sometimes my efforts may not seem like it at the time, but I was looking out for their best interest. I swear it.

“Because. Well—” With a pang I started to stutter defensively, realizing why I’d treated Leon so poorly. Not just on the phone call, but on Eden, and when we were in Miami. I hadn’t been much of a fan. “How can he be in love with my bestie and still have a boyfriend? It’s not right.”

Maybe I was envious of his ability to make love to Taddy. There was a part of me deep down inside which had wanted it to work out with Vive when we were in high school. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, but I’m gay and that wouldn’t be fair to her or me. Forget what’s right is right. What’s gay is gay! Period.

Shit. That sounded horrible. The gay gods were going to strike me with rainbow lightening, force me to wear polyester, and live on the east side of town for the rest of my natural life.

“You sound judgmental,” he stated, spacing the words out slowly, mixed in with a few Spanish ones I didn’t understand.

Suddenly, it felt a lot colder outside than mid-forties. I crossed my arms to warm myself. “I don’t mean to be. But I guess I’m conservative.”

“Are you a Log Cabin Republican?”

“No. I’m a democrat,” I snapped at his question. Come to think, when I compared myself to my other besties, I was probably the more square one in the group. I was okay with that. I think they were, too. Not all of us can be as liberal as Taddy, experienced as Vive, or have seen as much as Lex.

“You have a thing against bisexuality?” His voice hardened.

A heaviness centered in my chest. “No not at all.”

“What about polyamorous lifestyles?”

“Maybe. I don’t really even know what that word is…”

“It means having more than one open romantic relationship at a time.”

“Oh. That. Yes, Taddy and Leon have that.” I tried to make eye contact with him but couldn’t. Hell, I could barely face myself right then, let alone a Latin god like Diego Oala, so I defended, “Regardless of his sexual orientation, I’m very protective of Taddy and don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“
Sí
, but the dude lives in France. Taddy is in New York. Let it play out.”

“Are you always this cavalier about everything?” I was getting annoyed.

Mouth quirking with humor, his white teeth contrasted nicely with his dark skin as he asked, “Not usually. Not when it comes to love.”

Upon hearing his reply my heart melted a bit. I gave him a swooning look. I probably appeared like a dork, but I didn’t care.

His arms came wide as he pulled me into him. Our lips touched. He gave me a little bit of tongue. I liked it. I was starting to like the man more and more.

“I can’t believe Taddy was pregnant,” I muttered in his ear as he hugged me close. We stood almost shoulder to shoulder. However, his body was a mile wide, twice the width of my own. All that muscle. It felt good to be in his arms. For a second, my mind wandered off into an erotic paradise and I imagined what it would be like to have myself buried deep inside him, splitting his massive width from east to west, hearing him moan, “Fuck me, Blake, now.”

All of those naughty thoughts came to a screeching halt as he declared in an assessing tone, “Taddy is better off that she lost the baby.”

What?

Unsure if I heard him correctly, I pulled back and asked, “How can you say that?”

“She’s a teenager who can barely afford to go to college, let alone take care of a kid.” His jaw thrust forward.

Quickly, I waved away his opinionated words with my gloved hands, pointed a finger at his broad chest, and gave him a hard poke. “Taddy’s been modeling and has money coming in. She’s going to be famous. You’ll see. She would’ve been a great mother. We all would’ve helped her raise the baby while she finished school. We’re a family.”

“And what about the father?” Black hair gleaming in the street lights, he shook his head and stated. “She’s better off…”

“Meaning?” I asked as we turned to face the hospital and head back.

“I don’t think dudes like Leon should have babies.” He locked his arm with mine.

“Oh, now it’s
you
who sounds judgmental.” I heard my own voice go up in surprise as our legs took on a matching stride. “So…Taddy can date a bisexual…just not have a baby with one. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Do you think we’re born gay?”

“Eh?” I had no idea why he asked me this or if he was baiting me for something, but the suggestion sorta irritated the crap out of me and yet intrigued all the same.

“Yes. It’s in our DNA, our genes. Its nature not nurture,” I voiced firmly.

“
Sí
, so if you carry the gay or bisexual gene, don’t you think the chances of you having a gay or bisexual child are more probable?”

Oh. Good. Lord!

I glared at him as if he was nuts. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. For starters, who cares if the child is gay or straight? It doesn’t matter. Secondly, no, I don’t think you can pass the gay gene on like that. My parents aren’t gay.”