by Weber, Carl
Naw. Wasn’t him. There I went being a silly bitch. Oh well, his loss.
“Señorita, you have a package,” a man, different from the bellman who’d brought my bags up, said. A lot less friendly, too. Despite that, I signed for the designer gift box complete with a red bow, then tipped him handsomely. Maybe the Englishman is smoother than I thought, I pondered as I smiled and placed the square box on a table beside the computer monitor. There was a tiny note attached to it. It read:
So proud of the progress you’re making at school. Don’t think for a minute by my keeping you away that you’re not valuable to the family or to me as my daughter.
Will see you soon.
Daddy
“Aww.” I sighed with a big, cheesy grin across my face as I hurriedly undid the bow and opened the box. I was definitely a daddy’s girl. Inside was a silk Hermès scarf. I slid it carefully from the objects around which it was wrapped, and held it up to admire. Not too shabby, and I knew just the outfits with which to wear it.
But the expensive scarf was concealing the other true essentials in the box for a girl like me: a semi-automatic Ruger LCP compact .380 handgun and a carbon fiber stiletto knife. Analyzing the blade, I smiled. Light and subtle. Then, setting it aside, I took the gun in my hand. Checked its grip and its weight. I could hear my firearms instructor, the eternally pissed-off Israeli, hissing in my ear at the gun range as recently as last week.
“You shoot like a girl,” he said, his Middle Eastern accent stronger than a cup of straight black coffee. I’d unloaded into the target downrange, planting six straight center mass.
I wasn’t just the trust fund baby slash party chick slash “don’tcha wish your girlfriend was just like me” in exile. I was out here in Europe getting my education and preparing myself for a position within Duncan Motors.
Not just for pushing papers and looking all sexy. Y’see . . . the Duncans didn’t just deal in cars. We dealt in a much more dangerous world than that. And it was my turn to be the family problem solver. Something my sister London was no longer capable of doing. And, bless her soft ass, no longer wanted.
Smart of Daddy to give me a little something for my protection, even if I was removed from the action back in the NYC and Queens.
But I should be out there, too.
I didn’t need sheltering and protecting.
He would see.
They all would.
Too much random shit on my mind, I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and laid it out on the table. Took the small Ruger and began breaking it down just like I’d been taught. Ensuring my little gift wouldn’t fail me in an emergency.
I reached for the room phone and dialed the hotel operator.
“This is Señorita Wimberly,” I said upon their answering, as I held the bolt up to the light and squinted at it. “I’d like to schedule an in-room massage. But give me about an hour. I’m still getting settled in.”
Rio
8
As soon as my parents ditched the restaurant I phoned Paris. I needed to hear her voice. It probably had to be that twin thing. I didn’t want to ruin her good time by telling her about my conversation with the ’rents. She would have jumped on a plane and no doubt made things worse. For some reason they wanted her in Europe so I left things alone. I could have really used my running buddy tonight. There was no fucking way I was following my parents home. Instead, I hit the hottest gay club in Manhattan. The last thing I wanted was to pass my father on the staircase and have to pretend that shit was all copasetic.
Seven hours and two blowjobs later, I crawled into bed, exhausted, and fell fast asleep. I heard my door open a couple of times and assumed through the haze that it was my mother checking up on me, but I didn’t stir. It wasn’t like there was anything she could say to me that would lead to a different outcome. When I finally rose and opened my curtains the day was damn near over. Like a whoosh, all the nasty words came rushing back at me and instead of being cowered by my father like I’d been my entire life I got pissed the fuck off!
“Boy, what the fuck is you wearing?” Junior shouted at me as I stepped into the dining room. Everyone was already seated around the table having their pre-dinner cocktails. LC, Chippy, London, Harris, and Junior all looked up as I entered. Yeah, I decided that instead of shrinking from this I would take the opposite approach and become Rio Duncan, supergay. I’d rifled through Paris’s closet and found a pair of fuchsia-colored satin stretch leggings that were cutting off my circulation, a tie-dyed tank top, and a multicolored boa. Beauty was pain especially ’cause I had shit to prove.
“Yeah, this ain’t Halloween.” London gawked at my outrageous ensemble. Her pregnancy had turned her into a hostile bitch on wheels so I ignored the intention of her comment.
“I thought I should dress for the occasion.” I swept my hands in the air, being overtly dramatic. I was a caricature version of myself and hell-bent on enjoying it.
“What the hell you talking about?” Harris didn’t bother to hide his distaste.
“Goddammit, Rio, I am serious about what I said to you last night!” my father screamed at the top of his lungs.
“So am I, Daddy!” I shouted so my voice matched his. Everybody reacted all at once. Not one of us had ever raised our voice at our father. Probably because we doubted he’d allow us to continue breathing after such a breach of ethics.
“Son, just let it go,” my mother warned, trying to deter me, but I was Paris’s twin. I was about to show them that we were more alike than they’d ever thought. They didn’t think I’d heard all their snide comments over the years about her snatching the balls away from me in utero because I’d always been the calm, sensitive one and she, a hellion.
“Not a chance. Meet Rio Duncan, queen of the damned,” I announced loudly. “We should all raise our glasses in a toast.”
“Don’t make me come over there!” my dad warned.
“What? You’re going to punish me for not being straight? You gonna knock the black off me? No, I mean the gay out of me?” I challenged. “I don’t think it’s possible.” I snapped my fingers multiple times in the air, giving the ultra-gay signal.
“I knew it!” London shouted. “Your faggot ass been gay a long time.”
“Since I came out the womb,” I offered.
“Holy shit!” Harris stared as if seeing me for the first time before turning apologetically to his boss, LC.
“Harris, worried it might run in the family? Bun in the oven and all?” I quipped.
“No . . . no. Uh. . . ” Harris sputtered.
“Bro, I got your back. Anybody fuck with you, they fucking with me.” Junior, ever the big brother, stepped up, showing his support.
My father and I glared at each other across the table. In all my years I had never acted disrespectfully toward my parents, but this was an entirely new ball game. And I wasn’t gonna let him or nobody else tell me how to be.
“Well, you could start by telling your father that gay is not a choice I’m making just to piss him off. Unlike the other men in our family—and yes, I’m still all man—I am attracted to men and I will no longer hide my preference. So either put a hit out on me or deal with it, LC!” I screamed.
The room erupted in shouting and shock. My father came toward me, breathing fire and ready to snatch me up, but my mother blocked his path before he reached me. “I am never going to accept this. You want my respect then you need to be a man.”
“I am a man, a gay man!” I shouted at him across the table. “And I’m not going to law school, either. The only reason I even took the LSAT was to please you. You wanted me to get a law degree from a top school. Well, guess what? I don’t care what you want anymore. I’m never going to get your approval so I give up. I’m going to be happy and I’m going to be myself and that is gay, gay, gay, and gay!” I sang.
“I can’t stand to look at you!” LC boomed as he stomped out of the room.
“Oooow!” London shouted. “Stop kicking me! This fighting i
s upsetting the baby!” She gave me the evil eye.
“I hate this place!” I rose and stormed upstairs and into my room. I leaned against the door, breathing heavy. After years of rehearsing my exit from heterosexuality, I hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly.
The tapping on my door interrupted me feeling sorry for myself. My mother stood on the threshold. I stepped out the way to let her into my room.
“Your father loves you. He does,” she swore. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince me or herself.
“Yeah, well, he has a damn hard time showing it.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she begged me, and as much as I wanted to comfort her I couldn’t. This wasn’t about her or my father anymore. I just wanted to find myself, and one thing had become painfully obvious: I wasn’t going to be able to do that here.
Paris
9
I stepped into the restaurant in my strappy five-inch Manolos and a fitted BCBG sundress and quickly surveyed the scene. All kinds of rich suits sporting Rolexes, Patek Philippes, and a Jaeger here and there whispered in at least four different languages as I walked by. From the way their voices went up in pitch, was like they’d seen Rihanna or sumthin’. I know we all looked alike to ’em, but damn. I couldn’t sing, but I damn sure was finer. I had to admit that a sister could get used to the attention. There was something about being the rare piece of chocolate in a sea of vanilla. They clocked every move I made. Nothing like it.
“What’s all of this?” I asked a passing member of the hotel staff as I motioned to all the people milling about.
“A business conference,” the petite woman of olive complexion replied, amused. Her name was Adalia. “We host lots of them, señorita.”
Then I noticed the name badges on most of them. And it wasn’t just dudes. Cultured women in classy suits were on their shoe game while conversing with one another, handling their business too.
Lawd. I thought Orlando and Daddy set me up in a chill resort spot. Instead I was in the middle of an AARP convention. Yeah, I’d have to find my tribe and quick if my family expected me to stay here for two weeks. I had the hostess lead me to the best seat in the house with a clear view of the entrance. After ordering a real American breakfast I decided to check in with my other half.
“What’s up?” Rio screamed out on the other end.
“Not a damn thing.” I sighed.
“I wish I could say the same.” He laughed, except it sounded like something got caught in his throat. Not his normal fabulous Rio-ness.
“You all right? ’Cause I would hurt a motherfucker that messed with my twin.” When he didn’t immediately throw out a response I continued, “Did you finally do the dirty deed?”
“No! Though I’m starting to think why the hell not?”
“’Cause we twins and I inherited the ho-ishness for the both of us,” I joked. “I hate being here by myself,” I whined. “At least if you were here we could get into all kinds of trouble. You know I work better with a road dog.” I almost had to shout because of all the commotion on the other end of the line. “What’s all that noise in the background?”
“Some bad foreign TV show. Girl, you just need to handle your business and get you some,” Rio pressed me. “What about Mr. Big Feet?” he asked.
I almost wished I hadn’t spilled about that last night but I was soooo lonely. As soon as he said the words those size thirteens-plus walked into the dining room. Damn, he was finer than I remembered. He was in a tailored tan linen suit and white shirt that showed off his dark tan. He waved to the hostess and I saw that it wasn’t just his feet that were big. Brother had some massive hands that sent my mind racing in a dirty direction.
“You’ll never believe who just walked into the restaurant.” I lowered my voice to a whisper, trying to stop myself from bursting out in high-pitched laughter at my brother’s squeal. Rio always stirred shit up.
“So you’re not in your suite?” Rio asked.
“I wasn’t gonna find no trouble holed up in there. There’s some fancy dining room in this place with ocean views.”
“You better go step to a brother and get you some. I want details on how big those feet really are,” he kidded me.
“Your ass ain’t hardly thinking about his feet.” I laughed, watching the subject of our conversation. I turned before he spotted me staring at him. He was headed right in my direction.
“Mr. Big Feet is coming my way,” I reported as he took a seat at the table directly next to me. I saw him checking me out. I even rewarded him with a little smile in return, then went back to my call. “Definitely interested!”
“Then hustle your ass over there. Dick first, name later!”
“A’ight, I’m gonna do it! Wish me luck!” I started to rise just as these two hyper blond hoes planted themselves down at his table. “Damn, two bitches just sat down with him,” I groaned.
“Fuck those skanks. Paris Duncan don’t let nothing and no one cock block her!” Rio pushed me.
“I gotta go. I wanna hear what the hell they’re talking about.” I hung up the phone, pretending to not be all up in his business.
“You were amazing last night,” the blonde with the biggest rack purred.
“Yeah, you really know how to handle your business,” her friend added, trying not to be outdone by the massive boobage.
“Thank you, ladies! Glad you enjoyed the show.” He seemed to be flirting with them.
Show? I bet he showed them something. He looked up, caught my eye, and winked. Oh, hell no. I’m not about to get stupid naked with his whoring ass.
“Do you always get what you want?” Boobs Galore batted her eyes and bent back to give him the best display of her oversized assets. For some reason he chose to ignore her.
“Ladies, I have to prepare for my day.” He waved a folder in their direction.
“I’d like to see you again.” Her friend wasn’t ready to just let him go.
“We’d like to see you again,” they chimed in together.
“I’m around. Work now, play later, ladies.” He tapped his folder.
“Oh, okay, see you later.” They headed across the room to a table where they could have an unobstructed view of him.
He tilted his head in my direction and gave me this look like he was trying to apologize for the disturbance or some shit. What the fuck? I turned away and tried to concentrate on my food. According to what those tricks were saying he delivered. Well, I didn’t make a habit of getting into long lines for no man and I wasn’t about to start. I had to get my ass up out of this old folks’ spot and find me some good dick and potent weed and not necessarily in that order. I felt his eyes on me but I chose to ignore him. It would serve him right to know that not every pussy in the place had his name on it.
“Señorita,” a familiar voice called out. I looked up in time to see Rio heading into the restaurant. I squealed, jumping up to greet my brother.
“Asshole!” I shouted at him.
“Bitch!” He gave as good as he got.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I wanted to surprise you. See what trouble we could get into together.” He sat down, grabbing bacon off the plate.
“How did you convince the ’rents to let you fly all the way over here?” I asked, but Rio had already honed in on Mr. Big Feet and wasn’t listening to a word I said.
“Damn, when you said fine, I thought you were talking about average, everyday fine. That over there is beyond supermodel fine.” He swooned.
I snapped my fingers in his face to get his attention. I saw the look of curiosity on our neighbor’s face. Good. Let him worry that one female on this island had other options. But of course Rio couldn’t stop checking him out. You didn’t need a gaydar to read his interest. So much for me trying to use the jealousy card.
“You did not answer me about the folks. They just let you join me?” I pressed.
“Technically I’m too damn old to run away so
I didn’t tell them.”
“What? You hopped on a plane without saying anything to anyone? What the hell aren’t you telling me?” While my parents didn’t need to know our micro movements, international travel plans were always run by them. Something huge must have gone down for Rio to leave home without their knowledge. I stared him down, waiting for him to come clean.
“Well, I came screaming out of the closet and your pops freaked the fuck out,” Rio announced.
I gasped. This was major. “Out? Like out out?”
“Like I’m gay and deal with it out.” Rio sounded all bold.
I threw my arms around him. I’d never been more proud of my brother. “I can’t believe you finally did it. That must have been so hard,” I consoled him.
“Yeah, it was, until your father started acting like I didn’t have any rights to my own sexuality. Like I needed his permission, which he wasn’t about to give me.” Rio shook his head.
“Oh, he’ll get over it. Once you get that Ivy League law degree he’ll be parading you out for all his friends.” I laughed ’til I saw the look on his face. “What? Rio?”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen either.”
“You ditched law school? OMG, Dad must have flipped the fuck out.”
“You think? That was his dream, along with the one about me being interested in pussy!” Rio didn’t notice his voice had risen.
Our neighbor had an amused smile on his face. I wanted to tell him to mind his own damn business but he got a look on his face and rushed out like he had something urgent to take care of. Probably running to meet some highbrow Euro-trash with big fake titties. He stopped outside the door of the restaurant, talking to some Middle Eastern man with a thick gray beard. Interesting. I guess the brother does more than just screw the ladies.
“What are you going to do?”
“Party!” he screamed. “I wanna hit some clubs, get high, drunk, sleep, and at the very least see some dick. Lots and lots of dick!” He cheered, all his Rio-ness back in full force.