Saved by the Celebutante (2 page)

TWO

It’s just so unexpected. I don’t know whether to laugh, or be horrified at the possible implications.

In the end, I just stand there, staring.

My husband Corey is posing in front of our full-length mirror and taking selfies with his iPhone.

Dressed in drag.

And not just any drag. This is fishnet tights, black corset and spiky heels drag.

It’s white foundation, black eyeliner and scarlet lipstick drag.

If I didn’t know any better, I would think he was auditioning for the role of Frank-N-Furter in the
Rocky Horror Show
.

He sees me and slowly lowers the phone. “Er, hi Chrissie.”

“Are you trying out for a play?” I ask casually. It occurs to me that there might be a perfectly reasonable explanation for the scene in front of me.

“Not exactly.”

“Going to a fancy dress ball?” I offer helpfully.

“No.”

“Then can you please tell me what the hell is going on?”

He ignores my question, and instead asks one of his own. “Why are you home so early?”

“Is that all you can say?
Why am I home so early?
Corey, why are you dressed like that?”

His gaze drops to the floor. “I…”

I hold up a hand. “Wait. I think I’m going to need a drink before we have this conversation.”

He nods.

I spin around and march down the hall to retrieve the emergency vodka. Yes, we have emergency vodka – which is usually reserved for my sister Penny when she breaks up with someone. Or after I’ve talked to Mom and Dad on the phone for our bi-annual chat.

Corey trails after me, grabbing a bathrobe on the way, but still tottering along on the heels. Even in socks he’s six foot three, so right now his head almost touches the ceiling. I hate that he can walk so naturally. I tried on six inch heels once and almost broke an ankle.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t concentrate with you looking like that. Do you mind doing something about that and those?” I point to his makeup and shoes.

“Oh, right, yes. Hang on.”

He disappears for a moment, and I desperately fumble around in the kitchen looking for a glass and some ice.

By the time he returns, fresh-faced and barefoot, I’m curled up in the corner of the sofa, nursing my drink and gently rocking back and forth. At least his hair is the same chestnut color, styled in its usual side part. I concentrate on that.

Corey sits down opposite in the single armchair, his eyes focused everywhere but on me.

“Uh…” he begins. He looks like he wants to vomit. He’s not alone. The combination of my upset stomach, vodka and uncertainty is not a good one.

“Corey, are you a cross-dresser?” I blurt out.

“I’m not sure,” he says quietly.

“Well, do you just like dressing up for the fun of it? Or do you feel like you’re a female trapped in a male body?” Thanks to my sister Penny, I know that there are many different combinations of gender identity and sexuality. I also know there can be a big difference between someone who cross-dresses in day-to-day female clothing, and one who dresses in drag.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Okay. Well, we’ll deal with that later. I guess right now all I’m concerned about is what this means for our relationship. Are you straight? Bi? Gay? Something else?”

“I don’t know.”

I sit there for a minute, my brain swirling. If Corey is straight, we might be able to work through this. I take a slug of vodka. But the idea of incorporating costumes into our sex life makes me anxious. I’ve never been into the idea of roleplaying. I mean, I giggle at the mere mention of the word
spank
.

“Do you really not know? Or are you just trying to avoid telling me the truth?”

His eyes well up. “I’m still trying to make sense of it all myself. I guess I like the idea of being with a guy when I’m dressed up…” He trails off.

“But you haven’t decided how you feel the rest of the time?” I finish for him.

He takes a long time to reply, and when he finally speaks, it’s barely audible. “I think it might be all the time.”

I stare at the ground, stunned. Is this really happening?

Corey moans. “I am so messed up.”

I feel sick and sad and betrayed, and kind of like I’m having an out-of-body experience – but Corey’s last comment makes me push all that aside for a moment. I think seeing what some of my sister’s friends went through makes me want to help him, even if it’s to my detriment. There will be plenty of time to fall apart later.

“Hey, you know that being gay or wanting to dress like that doesn’t actually make you messed up, right?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Corey, not being true to yourself is messed up.”

He looks at me, eyes glistening. “Please don’t be so nice.”

“Look, I do kind of hate you right now, but only because you didn’t tell me what was going on. And I am so, so mad that you made me out to be crazy when I asked what was wrong last night and you said it was nothing – but I’m still going to try and understand what you’re going through.”

“Damn it, Chrissie. Don’t make me feel worse.”

“I’m not trying to.” I take another gulp of vodka and wince as it burns my throat. “So, how long have you felt this way?”

“I don’t know.”

“Months? Years? Forever?”

“I said I don’t fucking know!” he snaps. “Jesus!”

I feel like I’ve been punched.

“Corey! I just want to help! I’m trying not to lose it here, so please fucking attempt to meet me halfway, okay?”

He breaks down into anguished tears. “I’m sorry.” He runs his hands through his hair so that it stands up in little spikes. “I think maybe we should take some time to process and then talk again in a couple of days.”

I stand up. “Fine. I’ll go stay with Penny.”

“No, no. You stay here. I’ll go to Mom and Dad’s.”

“Are you sure? What will you tell them?”

“I’ll think of something.”

I stare bleakly out the window. How did we go from happily married (at least most of the time) to
this
in ten minutes flat?

Corey comes over and wraps his arms around me in a sort of conciliatory gesture. I stand there stiffly, unable to return the favor. I can’t help but notice he’s still wearing the fishnets.

“Where do you get your stuff?” I ask. And then I decide I don’t really want to know. “On second thought, don’t answer that.”

He strokes my arm, taking deep shaky breaths. “Babe, I am really, really sorry about all of this. I think we should be completely honest with each other from here on out, so I will do my best to be open the next time we talk.”

“You mean, even if I have a burning desire at 2a.m. to find out the brand of eyeliner you use? You won’t mind if I call then?”

A sad trace of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “I won’t mind.”

“Good to know.”

He looks me directly in the eyes. “You are an amazing girl, Chrissie. Don’t you ever forget that.”

***

Corey leaves soon after, and rather than face the prospect of an evening alone, I phone Penny.

While I wait for her to answer, I think about what Corey said about us being honest. I have always been honest with him. Why couldn’t he just say
he
would try and be honest? For some reason, the way he said that really annoyed me. Maybe I’m just being nit-picky. I’m probably suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

Then I feel like I should have made him stay so I could ask such things as “have you slept with anyone else since we’ve been together?” or “are you registered on Grindr?” but I don’t think I’d be able to handle it if he answered yes to either of those questions.

Penny’s phone rings out, so I leave a short message.

“Hey, Pen? I’m having a rough day. Do you mind dropping by when you get the chance?”

I can usually rely on my sister to come over at a moment’s notice if I’m in the middle of a crisis. Thankfully she doesn’t have an office job. Penny works from home as an on-call assistant of sorts. She’s always promoting a nightclub opening or doing some marketing for the local gym. One time she even coordinated a flash mob to advertise a new type of beer. Her work is very random.

She texts me back almost immediately.

Sorry, was in shower. Coming now.

I collapse back on the couch and contemplate what to tell my sister. I feel like it should be all right to confide in Penny. She was relatively fortunate when she told everyone she was gay. Mom and Dad didn’t seem to care (but that’s because they don’t seem to care about anything that happens in their daughters’ lives) and she knew I’d be cool because of previous discussions we’d had. But some of her friends weren’t quite so lucky. Some had parents who disowned them, and one committed suicide. I’ll have to find some way of managing these feelings of betrayal without affecting Corey’s mental health. I’m not quite sure how I’m going to achieve that yet.

I wonder how Penny will react to the news.

Twenty minutes later, she lets herself into my apartment and sees me downing my third vodka. My stomach feels like it could expel its contents in either direction at any moment, but I don’t care. The alcohol is making my brain feel better. Sort of.

“Are we having a big night?” she asks, noticing the partially empty bottle beside me.

“Yep.”

“Great! What’s the occasion?”

“My husband might be gay!” I say it in a fake happy voice, but it comes out all squeaky.

“Oh.” She sits down heavily beside me.

“What’s that
oh
?”

“I guess I kind of always suspected.”

“You what?” I screech. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me? Just because
I’m
gay doesn’t automatically make me an expert on everyone else’s sexuality. Especially guys.”

“I caught him dressed up in fishnets and a corset.”

She whistles. “Wow. Did he look hot? I bet he looked hot.”

I slap her arm. “Penny! What the fuck?”

“Sorry. But I love a guy in drag.”

I shiver. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“So he’s definitely gay and not just wanting a career as a drag queen?”

“We didn’t get a chance to talk properly about his motivation for dressing up, but he
did
confirm that he’s probably gay.”

“Oh, Chrissie. I’m so sorry.” She leans over and gives me a hug. “I’ll keep you company for as long as you need me.”

“Thanks, Pen. I really appreciate it.”

She jumps up. “Well, I’m assuming you called me to take your mind off things, so I’m going to accept that challenge. Pour me some vodka. We’re going out on the town!”

It’s true that I wanted Penny to distract me, but I hadn’t planned on leaving the house. Not that I have a choice in the matter now. When my sister puts her mind to something, there’s no stopping her. Plus, I do kind of appreciate having someone take control of my life for a few hours.

She helps me into a slinky dress and does my hair for me before choosing an outfit for herself from a bulging overnight case.

“Why did you bring so much?” I ask.

“I like to be prepared,” she explains.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. You sounded so vague in your message, I wasn’t sure how long you would want me to stay. By the looks of things, I’m going to have to camp out here for at least a few days.”

“Let’s just see how tonight goes, okay? I’m not suicidal or anything.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She yanks on a gold sparkly halter-neck top and teams it with a knee-length leather skirt. “I’m going to take you to this great new club I’ve discovered.”

She checks her reflection in the mirror and then makes me stand beside her to survey the end result. “Perfect.”

We both have long, straight, dark hair with bangs, and a similar square jawline, but out of the two of us, Penny is the cool one. Probably because one side of her head is shaved and dyed red.

My sister grabs her ID, credit card and a couple of bills. She shoves them into her bra and then hands me her cell phone. “Can you mind this for me? I don’t want to be weighed down.”

I toss her phone into my purse, not asking why she thinks it’s okay for me to carry everything, and then follow her out. I switch my own cell to vibrate so I don’t have to deal with anyone unless I consciously decide to.

Tonight is all about denial.

THREE

“What’s Michelle doing tonight?” I ask as we make our way towards Union Square. Michelle is Penny’s partner of five years.

“She’s at some awful sounding poetry reading. I’m glad you called actually, otherwise I would have been forced to fake being sick.”

“At least my situation is benefiting someone,” I say wryly.

We arrive at a club a couple of blocks away from the city center. Penny seems to know the woman on the door, so we are ushered in ahead of the queue.

That should have been my first red flag, but I’m feeling too sorry for myself to notice. Plus, I’ve consumed almost half a bottle of vodka on an empty and distressed stomach, so it’s kind of understandable.

Inside, the air is warm and sweaty. Loud late nineties dance music pumps through the speakers and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It’s only then that I notice the distinct lack of men.

“Did you bring me to a lesbian club?” I ask Penny incredulously. I mean, I wouldn’t mind normally, but it’s just going to be hard to forget about my situation when I’ll be faced with visual reminders of same-sex couples all night.

“No. Not exactly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She looks away shiftily. “It’s only like this on Wednesdays.”

“Did you know it was Wednesday?”

She pretends not to hear me. “Hey, I’m going to get a drink. Would you like something? My treat.”

I give her a stern look, but then decide I don’t have the energy to get into a fight. I’m feeling quite sensitive and need all the support I can get.

“A mojito, thank you.”

She smiles, relieved. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t leave me alone!” I cry.

“Don’t be silly. No one’s going to bite you.” She smiles devilishly. “Unless you ask them to.”

I shoo her off. “Go on then. Quick, before I sober up.”

She gives me a fake salute and I stand in the corner to wait, trying not to look too conspicuous and wondering how I can even begin to process the events of the past few hours. How
do
you deal with something like that? Have I been completely blind? Like those women whose husbands have affairs and everyone seems to know about it except them? I’m like Tiger Woods’s ex-wife, only I’m not skinny and blond. I also wouldn’t get $100 million in a divorce settlement.

I wonder if Kahlua knew Jack was cheating on her. I don’t really know her well enough yet for me to ask.

How could I have not been aware that my husband might be gay? Shouldn’t I have at least had a tiny inkling? I mean, Penny seems to have known all along and she barely ever sees him. And then there’s the whole clothing thing. Where has he been keeping all his stuff?

I try to think back and look for any signs that prove Corey might have preferred men over women. I don’t ever remember him checking out cute guys at nightclubs or parties. And he’s never commented on finding any male musicians or actors attractive. Although, come to think of it…he often said how much he admired Johnny Depp and Ryan Gosling. But then I thought all guys loved Johnny Depp. What about Ryan Gosling?

Penny returns with my drink and I snatch it from her, feeling slightly manic.

“Hey, do guys like Ryan Gosling?”

She scrunches up her nose. “What are you on about?”

“Do heterosexual guys get man crushes on Ryan Gosling?”

She laughs. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask one of them?”

I look around frantically. “Why aren’t there any men in here? I need to know!”

Penny’s face turns serious and she gently places a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. Just chill. Come with me to that booth in the corner. I know the girls sitting there.”

“Where do you know them from?”

“I don’t know. Here and there. If you ran into a bunch of your friends, would you be able to rattle off how you met each one of them at a moment’s notice?”

Maybe not in my current state. “Okay. Point taken.”

She points to the women as we approach. “From left to right we have Bridget, Rochelle and Anna.”

Bridget is a curvy woman with a full sleeve tattoo, wearing a fifties style Rockabilly dress. Anna has beautiful almond shaped eyes and a really cute layered haircut. But it’s Rochelle who really draws my attention. Wow. I have never seen such perfect cheekbones, blue eyes or pouty lips. She’s like an airbrushed photo.

Admittedly, that could be the vodka talking.

Penny sits down first and slides across, leaving a space for me on the end.

“Ladies, this is my sister Chrissie.”

They all smile kindly. Rochelle settles her gaze on me. I feel my face heat up.

“My big sis is having a few personal problems,” Penny tells them. “I’m relying on you guys to help me distract her tonight.”

They all coo sympathetically, forcing me to blink back a couple of tears.

Anna reaches over and squeezes my hand. “No problem. Consider us your diversionary entertainment for the evening.”

Rochelle is still staring at me. “You have great hair,” she says suddenly.

“Oh, thanks.” I self-consciously comb my fingers through the ends. I do actually quite like my hair. It’s glossy and thick and has a slight auburn sheen to it.

“Your dress is really cute too,” she says.

“Stop it,” I giggle, swatting my hand at her.

“It’s true.”

“I like your eye color,” I offer, trying to deflect the attention away from me.

“Contacts,” she confides.

“Really? They look awesome.”

Penny butts in. “Okay, you two. Enough with the love fest.”

Rochelle gives me a meaningful look and then turns back to the others.

“Watch out for her,” Penny whispers in my ear. “She’ll be all over you if you let her.”

I’m strangely intrigued by the idea, though I don’t know why. It’s not like I want her to seduce me. Do I?

No! I don’t! I’m a married woman. It doesn’t matter that my husband may never sleep with me again. It’s not like there was much of that going on recently anyway.

I finish my drink and stand up, feeling a bit wobbly. “Would anyone like another cocktail?” I ask.

“Yes, please.” The girls all place their orders, and I make my way to the bar, where a pierced woman with spiky hair is serving. She smiles warmly. “What can I get you?”

“Two cosmos, two mojitos and a bottle of water, please.” The water is for me. I’ve decided I need to rehydrate.

The bartender mixes the drinks like an eighties Tom Cruise and plonks them down in front of me on a tray. I hand her some money and wait for the change.

“Let me help you with that,” a voice murmurs beside me.

Rochelle is standing so close, I can smell her perfume. It’s all musky and spicy and alluring.

“Er, thanks. I would probably drop everything in my current state.”

She removes the water bottle from the tray and hands it to me.

“Here, take this. I’ll carry the rest.”

I stumble along behind her back through the crowd. Penny and Anna have disappeared, but Bridget is still there, tapping her feet agitatedly on the ground.

“Thank God you guys are here. I’m dying for the bathroom and I didn’t want to abandon our booth. Be back in a sec.”

She jumps up and runs off.

“Where are Penny and Anna?” I ask Rochelle.

“Probably dancing,” she says, unconcerned. “Just relax.”

For some reason, her instruction has the absolute opposite effect.

I sip my water, trying to look natural, but not fooling anyone.

Rochelle slides up beside me and softly massages my shoulders. “It’s okay. Try and enjoy yourself. You can worry about real life tomorrow.”

My phone buzzes in my purse and I hurriedly retrieve it. I wasn’t going to answer any calls or messages tonight, but I need the distraction.

It’s a message from Corey.

Just checking you’re OK.

I roll my eyes. Does he really expect me to be okay after what happened earlier?

“Everything all right?” Rochelle asks.

“Yeah, fine.” I stuff the phone back in my purse and zip it shut. I look up at Rochelle and she smiles. She kind of reminds me of Mila Kunis.

“Where were we?” she continues as if we were interrupted during an intimate moment. Which I guess it is now.

I hold my breath. I’m not really sure what’s going on here, but there’s a chance a very hot girl is about to kiss me.

She leans in so our faces are almost touching.

I close my eyes.

And then I pull away, shoving my face between my legs and throwing up all over the floor.

Ugh.