by T V Hartwell
Can you talk?
Then another text a few seconds later. Pax told me you’re at home alone watching football, so I know you can talk.
After a little more than a minute had passed, Jake’s phone rang, and Kirby’s name appeared across the caller ID.
“I don’t want to talk to you, Kirby,” Jake said as he allowed the call to go to voicemail. But then the phone rang again. Jake held the phone in his hand and stared at Kirby’s name and number as it reappeared on the caller ID. A part of him felt tempted to answer it, even if it was just to tell Kirby verbally that he didn’t want to talk and to stop trying to reach him. But Jake knew that wouldn’t be an easy thing to do. Kirby had been too close to him. Like family, but even more than that. Kirby had been his brother, his friend, his confidant, his secret lover. If he answered the phone to say I don’t want to talk to you anymore and please stop trying to contact me, there would be more pain inflicted on both of them. And Jake wasn’t prepared for that. He didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to revisit the very raw and unpleasant feelings of anger and betrayal. Jake just wanted to chill, relax, and enjoy the remaining time he had off from work in peace and quiet.
After allowing the call to go to voicemail a second time, the phone chimed a few seconds later indicating that a voice message had been received. Jake wasted no time hitting the voicemail icon, curious and eager to hear it.
“Jake, it’s me. I sent you a couple of texts. I didn’t hear back from you. Maybe you’re not by your phone or you’re asleep. I doubt it, but anyway. We need to talk, man. It’s been like three months since we’ve seen or spoken to one another. I know I fucked up and blew up what we had going. It’s my fault, and I accept the blame for everything, and I’m sorry. I know you trusted me, and I broke your trust, and I just want you to know how much I regret it and hope that you’ll forgive me. This whole situation has gotten out of control . . . dividing our friends and making people uncomfortable; forcing them to choose to hang with me or you. We can’t let this happen. We’re the ones that hold it down for our whole crew, and this isn’t right. But more importantly than that, I just want to patch things up with you and get things back to where they were. I love you, man. No matter what, I love you,” Kirby said as his voice broke. Jake could tell that Kirby had started to cry. “You’re my boy,” Kirby managed to continue after a momentary pause. “I’d do anything for you. You know that. Stop punishing me with your silence. We’re supposed to be for life. We promised.” After another brief pause, “Call me . . . please,” Kirby finally pleaded before hanging up.
Jake’s eyes watered as he listened to Kirby’s voice. He couldn’t help but to be moved by the sincerity of his words and the heartfelt expression of his emotion and tone. When he hit replay to hear the entire message all over again, the tears began to roll down his face. In that moment, he felt love and compassion for his friend, and he almost called him back. However, Jake felt afraid. Afraid of the feelings he had for Kirby. His love and affection for Kirby combined with his physical attraction to him were so powerful. So powerful that before then he hadn’t been able to succeed in ending the sexual aspect of their relationship even when he wanted after he’d become engaged to Amanda. It took Kirby’s betrayal to finally engender within him the strength and conviction to walk away—away from his desire for a man, he thought.
Finally, with Kirby out of his life, Jake felt like he could move on and recalibrate. He had two main intentions for the New Year. First, focus on his career and the hard work that would be expected and required of him in order to become a partner at his firm and second, to date and eventually find a new girlfriend and potential wife to fulfill the dream he’d once shared with Amanda of having the All American family and perhaps launching a career in politics at some point in the future. Although others around him had had a hand in shaping that dream, he’d bought into it, and Kirby would likely be nothing more than a hindrance, making the dream far less likely to achieve. Therefore, Jake concluded that he had to let Kirby slip away. Kirby’s charisma and passion were too overwhelming for him, and entertaining the idea of reconciliation or even talking to him would only pull him back to where he didn’t want to be. So Jake decided to let silence do the talking for him, and once again Kirby’s attempt to reconnect went unreciprocated.
* * *
Chapter Thirty-Seven
More than halfway around the world, Amanda, Adam Lucy, and Cass were being hosted on a private yacht owned by a friend of Cass’s, an Australian media tycoon and billionaire who liked to rub shoulders with celebrities and the who’s who of the world. They floated around Sydney Harbour and rang in the New Year in style. With the finest caviar and French champagne that money could buy served in abundance, they had enjoyed a spectacular fireworks display that lit up the night’s sky over the famed Sydney Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge. At the stroke of midnight, when the fireworks went off and the other revelers aboard the yacht enthusiastically sang “Auld Lang Syne,” Amanda and Adam stood and leaned quietly along the railing of the yacht’s upper deck to take in the view of the dazzling Sydney skyline. “This is so beautiful,” Amanda said with a sense of awe as Adam pulled her into him and held her tightly. She responded by wrapping her arms around his waist, snuggling herself against his chest. Her heart fluttered at the gentleness of his touch and at the softness of the kiss he placed to her forehead. His affection made her feel warm, safe, and protected.
“I can’t believe this is your first time in Australia,” he said.
“It’s been on my bucket list, but the right opportunity for a visit hadn’t presented itself before now. I wish we could stay longer. I want to see more of it. The Great Barrier Reef, the Outback. I want to see some kangaroos and koala bears too.”
“We’ll definitely have to come back for a longer trip. It’s a beautiful country and there’s so much to see and do here.”
“I’d love that. Let’s make a plan.”
“When would be a good time for you to come back?” he asked. But before she could offer a response, Cass interrupted them.
“Awww, look at the two lovebirds,” he teased, looking over at them while he too held Lucy in his arms.
“They look so in love, don’t they? How cute,” Lucy added with a big smile on her face.
Amanda and Adam chuckled and smiled back at them, but didn’t say anything in response. But then Adam spoke low and deep in Amanda’s ear. “Are we in love?”
The vibration of his voice in her ear tickled, and the sensation of it combined with the awkwardness of the question made her to giggle.
When she continued to giggle without offering a direct reply to the question, Adam persisted in a teasing way. “So are we? Are we?” he repeated while locking her more tightly in his embrace with a big grin on his face.
Sounding shy and embarrassed by the question, “Adam . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes. Just say yes,” he said, while tickling her and making her laugh. She attempted to squirm her way loose from him. “Adam . . . stop,” she said in a high pitch which drew the attention of Lucy, Cass, and other onlookers who smiled back at them and laughed along.
When he stopped torturing her, he pulled her around to face him. “Come here, gorgeous,” he said as he held her around the waist with both his hands padding her rear, and then kissed her lips softly. He kissed them again and again and again with increasing fervor as she responded by rubbing her hands through his hair and then wrapping her arms around his neck. He stopped to stare into her eyes and then simply told her in a sweet, earnest voice, “I’m in love.”
She blushed as her eyes welled with tears. “You’re going to make me cry.”
“It’s okay if you’re not ready to say it back to me. Like I’ve told you before, I can wait. I’m in no hurry and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got enough love for you to keep me patient, and hopefully it’s enough to keep you satisfied. I just want to make you happy, princess.”
Amanda smiled as s
he stared back into his eyes. “I am happy. And you’re a big part of the reason why.”
Swept up in the intimacy of the moment, she came that close to telling him that she was in love with him too, but deep down she wasn’t a hundred percent certain she truly felt that way and she caught herself just in time. But she did feel genuinely happy to be with him and equally happy for the opportunity to tell him so, which for the moment seemed good enough for Adam.
With Cass as their tour guide, they spent New Year’s Day frolicking around Sydney like teenagers on spring break, taking in some of the sights and sounds, and basking in Australia’s comfortably warm summer season, especially considering that it was winter most everywhere else around the world.
After her quick, two-day jaunt Down Under with Adam, Amanda returned to Los Angeles feeling buoyant and excited for what the New Year had in store, but immediately most excited about accompanying her new beau to the Golden Globe Awards less than two weeks away. As a woman who’d be escorting a nominee for best picture down the carpet and being seen by millions around the world on live television, her first order of business upon getting back centered around nailing down the right dress to wear to the show.
With assistance from Adam’s publicist along with her mother’s deep connections to the high fashion world as a highly sought after patron who literally would spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on made-to-order designer clothes, Amanda had her bases covered. In short order, all of the major haute couture fashion houses from Europe to America came calling, offering to dress her. For free! With the Golden Globes being the biggest and most watched fashion show in the world, after the Oscars, designers competed ferociously to be worn by a major star on that night or the next best thing, being worn by the spouse or significant other of a major star. And if that spouse or significant other happened to be a minor celebrity or known socialite with a media following, like Amanda, even better.
Over several days, Amanda huddled with a stylist as well as with Charlie, her want-to-be stylist and aspiring BFF, to go over her options. At first she’d considered having a custom designed dress made; several designers had expressed a willingness to go through the trouble of doing so for her, as they often did for major celebrities for splashy occasions like award shows. However, after a lot of back and forth about sketches, swatches, and fabrics with multiple design houses, Amanda ultimately decided to go with the much less fussy option of a ready-made, one-of-a-kind dress that would be modified to fit her and that had never before been worn by another celebrity or public person. Oftentimes these were haute couture fashions seen on the runways of Paris and London and in editorial spreads in Vogue that in actuality are not made available to the public for purchase, but rather are made more for show or special order. Nevertheless, all of the same design houses still competed for her patronage with one in particular seeming to have an inside advantage.
Alana Dupree and Lucy, her daughter, tag teamed to apply some gentle persuasion. Although chances seemed good that Adam’s film would receive an Oscar nomination as well, it wasn’t a guarantee so dressing Amanda for the Golden Globes might’ve been one of their best and only opportunities to get the Alana Dupree label on the red carpet in a high profile way during the 2011 awards season. As result they both had flown from New York to Los Angeles to personally present some options to Amanda.
Just as Amanda walked into the secret VIP entrance to the Alana Dupree boutique on Rodeo Drive for her appointment, one of the supporting actresses in Adam’s film was leaving. “Oh, hi,” Amanda said cheerfully as the two hugged and greeted one another. They had already met at the LA and New York premieres.
“So are you wearing Alana Dupree to the Golden Globes?” the young actress asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’m looking at a few things. It’s so hard.”
“I know, huh?”
“So many choices from so many great designers. I don’t know what to do. What about you?”
“I’m in the same boat. But to be honest, I don’t know why my stylist sent me here. Alana has some incredibly beautiful dresses, but I think I might be a little too on the pudgy side for her designs,” the actress said with an awkward laugh.
“Awww,” Amanda uttered sympathetically and then giggled along with the actress, tickled by her self-deprecating humor.
“Her dresses are more for girls with model-like figures. I think they’ll suit you perfectly,” she said as she looked Amanda up and down in dramatic fashion.
Not having a quick comeback, Amanda just blushed and grinned, knowing that the statement was kind of true.
“Oh well, off to the next appointment. Maybe Versace will have something more appropriate for curvy girls . . . not!” she said while grabbing Amanda by the arm and giving her a knowing wink of the eye.
Amanda giggled at the actress’s funny bone before offering a parting word of encouragement. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find something that you like. These designers will do whatever it takes to have you wear one of their dresses.”
“Oh, I know. I could be doing a lot worse than trying on twenty thousand dollar designer gowns that don’t fit me. At least I don’t have to pay for them. The perks of the business . . . enjoy ’em while they last. . . .” she said, while trailing off.
When Amanda made her way into the VIP dressing room of the posh boutique, she had a small audience of people waiting for her—Alana, Lucy, Rachel, the stylist she’d been working with, a coterie of assistants who worked at the boutique, and surprise, her mother, Camilla.
“There she is. How are you, my love? I am so excited for you,” Alana said, upon seeing her and extending her arms to hug her.
“Hi!” Amanda said, warmly hugging back the woman she’d known since she was a girl and who’d given her the first and only job she’d ever had before leaving it to be with Jake in LA.
“Mom, I didn’t know you were coming,” Amanda said, seeing her mother sitting on one of the sofas with Lucy.
“Well, when Alana told me she’d be in town, I thought I’d drop by to pay her a visit. Besides, this might be my only chance to see up close and in person the dress you’re going to be wearing Sunday night.”
“I might wear. Might,” Amanda corrected.
“Uh . . . well then, it looks like you have your work cut out for you, Alana, if you want her to change her tune from ‘I might’ to ‘I will.’”
“Mom, Rachel has made arrangements for me to see two more designers today. I can’t say what I’m going to do or make a commitment until I’ve had a chance to see everything,” Amanda said with a sigh, feeling put on the spot. Why are you here? I don’t need your help, is what she really wanted to say.
“And that’s entirely fair,” Alana said sympathetically. “No worries. Most won’t decide what they’re going to wear until the morning of. That’s why we need to make sure we have you fitted and ready to go, just in case you decide to go with us.”
“Yes, please, please, please,” Lucy teased, lifting her hands together in prayer mode.
“Amanda, Alana brought the two dresses you liked from the fall fashion show. They haven’t been seen or worn since then,” the stylist, Rachel, said.
“Oh, that’s great!”
“And I brought a third,” Alana interjected, “that I’d designed with Anne Hathaway in mind since she’s hosting the Oscars next month, but I’d love for you to consider it.”
“But what about Anne?” Amanda asked.
“I’ve been in constant touch with her stylist, but it looks like they might be going in a different direction for her wardrobe, and I don’t want the dress to go to waste. So if you want it, it’s yours.”
“But what if Anne decides she wants it?” Camilla asked, incredulous.
“Eh, too bad. I’ll just tell them that Amanda Climent snatched it up first. Besides, you’re my girl. Like a second daughter to me. I’d be honored and very pleased to see you wearing anything of mine on such a big night. And since I didn’t get to dress you for
your wedding, maybe I’ll get to dress you for the Golden Globes instead. That would make me so happy.”
“Awww, Alana, that’s so sweet of you. Thank you. Thank you so much,” Amanda said, placing her hands to her heart, touched by Alana’s thoughtfulness.
“I like the sentimental sales angle, Mom. Well played,” Lucy said teasingly while giving Alana a wink and thumbs-up.
“My . . . considering that Amanda’s not going to generate as much buzz for the label as Anne would, that’s awfully generous of you,” Camilla interjected.
Feeling insulted and annoyed, Amanda locked eyes with Lucy, giving her a look that read, Is it okay if I slap her now?
But Lucy spoke up in her best friend’s defense with charm and diplomacy. “Oh, I beg to differ. Amanda’s following in your footsteps, Camilla, as a style icon. The press really likes her. Have you seen all the good press she’s gotten just from accompanying Adam to his movie premieres and for being his alleged new girlfriend? Wait until they step out together at the Golden Globes and the Oscars after that, if he’s nominated. Things are really going to blow up.”
“I completely agree,” Alana chimed in. “This will be great for us. And you and Adam are playing the press so well, keeping them guessing about your relationship.”
“That was actually more his idea.”
“Well, it’s brilliant because it keeps them guessing and interested, which in turn keeps you in the news.”
“Indeed, it is rather interesting that a guy who’s been linked to nearly every twenty-something actress in Hollywood seems to be so enamored of my daughter, even after she dumped him.”
“Mom, no he hasn’t,” Amanda said defensively, but Camilla kept her attention trained on Alana who continued talking.