“Do you know anyone else who’s transgendered?” I asked.
“Uh-huh. Bernice at Club Chaos,” he answered.
“Bernice?” I asked, shocked.
“Yeah. You know her. She runs the sound system there.”
“I know who she is,” I said, remembering the time Daniel and I had borrowed Bernice’s truck to pick up my leather sofa from a showroom in SoHo. “I didn’t know she was a man.”
“Is a woman,” Daniel said, correcting me. “Really, Blaine. If we’re going to be hobnobbing with transgendered people tonight, you should watch what you say.”
We were almost banished to the long line of people waiting to get into the club because the doorman didn’t have our names on his list.
“I don’t mean to be an asshole,” Daniel began.
“But he does it so well,” I said.
The doorman laughed, but fell silent when Daniel got in touch with his inner diva and said, “I was performing in this club when you were first figuring out how to masturbate. Now get your head out of your ass and let us in.”
A man who’d come from inside the club asked, “Is there a problem here?”
“Yeah,” the doorman said, gesturing to Daniel and me. “These two say they should—”
“Holy shit! It’s Angus! I mean, Daniel Stephenson,” the other man said. He pulled aside the velvet rope and led us into the club, babbling the whole way. “I’m so glad you two made it. Daniel, I’m sure you know Taylor? The club’s owner? He’s doing an interview with the director of BATS right now. I know they’d love to get a picture with both of you. Come on.”
We posed for a few pictures, and Daniel, speaking for both of us to the reporter, said, “It’s high time that legislation to extend civil liberties to transgendered people was introduced to City Council. There were nineteen transgendered people murdered this year. Blaine and I feel that transgendered people have a right to feel as safe and protected in this city as anyone else.”
When we joined the party and hit the dance floor, Daniel wrapped his arms around me and started moving slowly to the music, although a fast dance mix was pulsing through the club’s sound system. It felt good to have him close to me, and it was easy to forget all of our arguments, but I reminded myself that there were photographers around and he was only portraying his role as the doting boyfriend.
“I didn’t know I felt so strongly about transgender equality,” I said in Daniel’s ear.
He pulled back from me and said, “I’m sorry I spoke for both of us.”
“No. It’s fine. I’m all for it. Now that I know someone who’s . . .” I trailed off, unsure of what I was trying to say.
“What?” Daniel yelled.
“Never mind,” I shouted. Daniel shrugged and kept dancing, although he no longer felt compelled to hold me. I spied a familiar face across the room and said, “I’ll be back in a minute.”
When I reached the bar, Violet handed me a martini. “It’s dirty,” she said. “You showed up.”
“Yes. Despite your protests,” I said, sipping the drink so it wouldn’t spill. “Hey, speaking of dirty little secrets—”
“Found me out, huh?” Violet asked.
“Daniel told me,” I said.
“Speaking of dirty little secrets,” Violet mimicked me. She glanced at the people around us and motioned for me to follow her to a corner of the room where nobody would overhear our conversation. “How’s it going?”
“Dammit, Violet,” I said. “I find out I know less about you than I thought I did, and you want to talk about me and Daniel?”
“Could you know less? When’s my birthday? Where do I live?” she asked. I cringed when I realized I had no answers. “Here’s a hint. You’re at a benefit for an organization with Brooklyn in its title.”
“I’m sorry. I suck,” I said. I was relieved when she laughed.
“No, you don’t,” she protested. “You’re a busy man, and I’m your assistant.”
“But I think of you as my friend, Violet, above all else. You’re like my spine. I’d be a mass of quivering Jell-O if it wasn’t for you.” She looked embarrassed, albeit in a pleased way. I remembered our meeting with Lillith and said, “You’re a Capricorn. I know that much.”
Violet exclaimed, “Ha! Technically, Noreen was right. I am an Aries. Four years ago, I had my final operation on January twentieth, so I consider that my birthday now.”
“No wonder poor Noreen was so confused.”
“Yes. Especially since all my legal documentation lists April twelfth as my birthday. I’m sure that’s on her company astrology charts.”
“How come you never told me?” I asked.
“I don’t like a fuss on my birthday.”
“Not that,” I said.
“I was afraid,” Violet said. She stared into her martini as she continued, “I applied at Breslin Evans because I heard they were extending benefits to partners of their gay and lesbian employees. When I found out that was your idea, I asked to work for you.”
“I didn’t have that much to—”
“Blaine, please,” Violet interrupted. “This is my story.”
“Sorry,” I said, failing to suppress a laugh.
“However liberal Breslin Evans tried to be, there was nothing in their antidiscrimination policies that said they couldn’t fire me because of my being transgendered. So I didn’t tell anyone. Why should I? I’m a woman.”
“Despite my being here, I know little to nothing about transgendered people,” I admitted.
“No offense, Blaine, but that’s not a huge revelation,” Violet said, winking before she sipped her martini to let me know she was teasing me.
“But didn’t you have to show HR a driver’s license or something?” I asked.
Violet replied in a patient tone of voice, like a teacher talking to an eight-year-old, “I don’t drive, but the name on my license is Violet Medina. Female. Same name on my social security card. It’s all legal. I wasn’t trying to pull the wool over your eyes.”
“If you were, it would be a fashionable wool hat, I’m sure,” I joked. “But I hear you. It’s like when Gavin said that people should be allowed to reveal their secrets on their own terms. I completely agree with that. Although recently, I’ve been told I can be intolerant to what I don’t understand.”
Violet craned her neck to look at the dance floor, then turned back to me and said, “Daniel looks okay. I guess you didn’t rip his face off for saying that. You’re making progress.”
“I’m not that bad, am I?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t have worked for you all this time if you were,” Violet assured me. “Nor would I go through all this trouble helping you deceive the gay media. How’s it going?”
“It’s tough. The deception is bad enough, but what’s really difficult to deal with is Daniel. If it were anyone else, it would be a whole lot easier.”
“If it were anyone else, you probably wouldn’t be going through all of this,” Violet pointed out. “Is it worth it?”
Before I could answer, Daniel walked up and said, “Hi. Hope I’m not interrupting anything serious.”
He was wiping sweat off his brow, as he’d been dancing nonstop since I left him to speak with Violet. His face was flushed and he smiled bashfully, obviously thinking he looked a mess. He looked fantastic, and I was painfully aware that I was staring at him, so I polished off the rest of my martini and said, “Violet was discussing the Deity line with me, letting me know that Josh is available to shoot ads this month as long as they’re in New York.”
“Do you two ever stop working?” Daniel asked.
Violet and I looked at each other and said simultaneously, “No.”
Daniel shook his head, and Violet said, “I need to go home if I’m going to get to the office in the morning. And you should, too,” she said, poking my shoulder. “Daniel, it was nice to see you again.”
“You, too, Violet,” he said.
As she walked away, she hesi
tated, then walked back to Daniel and said, “Before I go, I’ve wanted to tell you something. A long time ago, after the Pride Parade, I was at the pier dance and you—well, Princess 2Di4—gave this wonderful speech about what pride meant to you and how important our families are to us.”
“Violet, please don’t say it was ‘a long time ago,’ pumpkin,” Daniel said. Running his fingers over his face, he turned to me and asked, “Are my wrinkles showing?”
“Yes,” I insisted.
“What I mean to say,” Violet went on, “is that I loved Princess 2Di4, and she gave me a lot of courage to become the person I am today.” Violet leaned forward and kissed Daniel on the cheek. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, before she smiled at him, waved at me, and left us standing there. Daniel bit his bottom lip as he watched her leave. I could tell he was trying not to cry.
“She’s amazing,” he said.
“You’re amazing,” I said.
Daniel composed himself, took my hand and said, “Yeah, well, smile for the cameras, darling. We’re leaving.”
Since the night hadn’t gone too badly, I was tempted to prolong it. Once we were in our cab, however, Daniel practically hugged the door opposite me, and I bit off whatever suggestion I’d been about to make. By the time I reached my apartment, I could tell it would be a Sominex night. Not that I ever took anything like that. I preferred to stare miserably at the clock while it ticked away the possibility of sleep.
“Welcome home,” Gavin said, after I shut the door behind me.
“How did you know?” I asked, looking around. Gavin’s massage table was set up, the top sheet pulled back invitingly. The air smelled of rosemary, chamomile, and lavender. Ambient music played softly in the background, and the only light came from dozens of votive candles flickering throughout the room.
“Violet called. She thought this might be a good idea.”
“She was right. I’ll be ready in a minute.” I went to my room and undressed, wrapping a towel around my waist. When I came back, Gavin was washing his hands in the kitchen, so I removed the towel, lay facedown on the massage table, and started doing the deep breathing he’d taught me.
Once Gavin started the massage, I shut out Daniel by thinking about Violet. Although she hadn’t been reproachful, it bothered me how little I knew about her life. Or Gavin’s, for that matter. I turned my head and asked, “What do you do in your spare time? Do you date? Do I give you enough time off to have a life?”
“Facedown,” Gavin commanded. “I can’t get into those muscles when you’re all twisted around.” I did as I was told, and he went on. “I’m not dating anyone right now. By choice. I go out for dinner and drinks, or to see shows and movies, with old friends. I have no complaints.”
I was quiet until he had me turn over, then I said, “Since you and Violet have been acquaintances for a long time, I guess you knew her secret. Was she afraid of telling me because I’m an intolerant pig?”
“No! The day we looked at apartments, you left us to meet someone, and Violet and I had dinner to talk things over. How we both fit into your life. How we could work together. She told me that she loved working for you because you’re not a ‘supposed to’ person.”
“What does that mean?”
“Some people do things because they know they’re supposed to. Flowers on Secretary’s Day. Lunch or dinner on a birthday. Violet told me that you don’t operate on that level. You act from impulses of gratitude or generosity.”
“Sometimes I act that way as a means of persuasion,” I said.
“So what? At least you’re honest about what you’re doing. Anyway, Violet said she didn’t tell you up front because she didn’t know you, and she’d been burned by a few people when she was honest. By the time she understood you better, she knew it wouldn’t matter. If you found out, you’d be okay with it. Not because you’re supposed to, but because it was irrelevant. She was right, wasn’t she? It is irrelevant.”
“She’s always right,” I said, and closed my eyes. After a couple of minutes, I opened them, looked at him, and said, “What about you? Are you going to spring any secrets on me? Manservant by day, suave cat burglar by night?”
“My life is an open book,” Gavin said. “Stop talking and practice your breathing.”
Whatever détente Daniel and I had reached at the BATS party had apparently dissolved by our next outing together. The following Wednesday we were slated to appear at a gala hosted by Ultimate Magazine. Wearing a new Armani tuxedo and trying to remain optimistic, I greeted Daniel on his stoop with the brightest smile I could muster. My smile quickly faded when he said, “Hi. I thought you’d be wearing your beaded ball gown tonight.”
“I don’t get it,” I said.
Daniel handed me a newspaper clipping as his front door shut behind him. My eyes were drawn immediately to a photo to the left of Lola Listeria’s column. It was a picture of a blond girl holding a guitar.
“Isn’t that the girl from Family Ties?” I asked. “What was her name?”
“Tina Yothers. Look a little closer,” Daniel urged.
“Christ on a cracker. It’s you,” I said.
“I don’t know where Lola got that,” Daniel said. “Or how. ‘The Tina Yothers Comeback Special’ only ran at Club Chaos a few times. And it was never publicized.”
“The Tina Yothers what? Never mind. I just hope it wasn’t Andy who sold the picture to Lola,” I said, thinking about Daniel’s love-hate relationship with his former employer.
“No,” Daniel protested. “Andy may be a lot of things, but he’d never do that. Besides, I called him and did a lot of yelling just to be sure, and he swore he didn’t. I believe him. He reminded me that ‘The Tina Yothers Comeback Special’ happened before I officially worked for Club Chaos. Andy hardly liked me enough then to want to hang on to any keepsakes of the moment. Some queen must’ve cleaned out his closet, found the picture, and figured he could make a few bucks from it.”
“Martin,” I said vehemently.
“Jesus Christ, Blaine! Martin is my friend. Why would he sell that picture to Lola? I didn’t even know him at that time. Besides, what would he have to gain from this? Nothing!” Daniel yelled.
“That’s true,” I said. “I mean, if it would hurt me in some way, he might. But this is about you.”
“Well . . .” Daniel said, trailing off and looking nervous.
“Oh, fuck,” I said and scanned the article. There was only one section about us, which was adjacent to the photo of Daniel impersonating Tina Yothers. I read it aloud. “ ‘Oh, that Daniel Stephenson! What a ham! Lola dragged—get it?—this alluring photo of our favorite daytime devil from the archives. That’s right, readers. Our soap stud wore drag duds in a show called ‘The Tina Yothers Comeback Special.’ Lola wonders why that’s not on the Secret Splendor star’s résumé? Sha la la laaaa! Lola also wonders if Daniel Stephenson’s boyfriend, Lillith Allure’s Creative Director, Blaine Dunhill, knows about this? Does Blaine dress up like Justine Bateman or Meredith Baxter? Our boys have been appearing at every event in the city, proclaiming that they’re just a normal couple like everyone else. If dressing up like Tina Yothers is normal, Lola’s catching the next bus back home to Boise . . . Speaking of freaky, guess what Lola heard about a certain not so innocent . . .’ ” I stopped reading and gritted my teeth to keep from screaming.
“Go on. I didn’t read that part. What does she say about Britney?” Daniel asked. I grimaced at him and he said, “Never mind. Look, it’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” I bellowed. “Now people are going to think we sit around in petticoats drinking tea.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Daniel said. “Nobody wears petticoats anymore. Maybe a nice Chanel suit.”
“Sure, Daniel. Make jokes,” I said.
“What else can I do?” Daniel said, his voice growing louder. “Nothing! It’s a gossip column. Nobody takes Lola seriously. A few months ago, she tho
ught I was trying to break up Sheila and Josh. Was that true? No. Everyone knows they’re married and very together. Maybe people will think this is more of her moronic ramblings.”
“Illustrated with a picture,” I reminded him.
“You can’t handle another reminder that I used to perform in drag,” Daniel huffed.
“No. You’re wrong,” I protested. “What pisses me off is that she’s setting us back to square one. We’ve spent weeks doing all this work to make people think we’re a normal gay couple, and now it’s all for naught.”
“Normal,” Daniel scoffed. “I guess you blame me, as usual. Once again, I can’t live up to your idea of respectability. Anyway, her column is old news. I was truthful about my past as a female impersonator in Us. Nobody cares.”
“Oh, forget it. Let’s just go to this stupid function and pretend like we never saw this.” Trying to lighten the mood, I looked at Daniel’s tux, obviously new and created by some designer I’d never heard of, and said, “Is that what you’re wearing?”
Daniel looked horrified for a moment, then rolled his eyes and followed me to the car that was waiting by the curb.
Ultimate Magazine was celebrating five years in the publishing business by throwing a gala dinner at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. Not only was the magazine celebrating its success, but tickets to the party were sold to benefit People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. When we arrived, the hotel’s opulent ballroom was crowded with formally attired magazine staff, society’s elite, celebrities, and their pets.
“This is like Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous meets Noah’s ark,” Daniel said.
“I should’ve brought Dexter.”
“He’s better off at home,” Daniel said. “The society pets would all laugh at the state of his fur coat.”
“Don’t say ‘fur coat’ so loud,” I joked. “Chrissie Hynde might kick our ass.”
“I love Chrissie Hynde. I used to impers—she can kick my ass anytime she wants to,” Daniel said.
Josh and Sheila spotted us from across the room and rushed over to greet us. “You look so familiar,” Sheila said, pretending to study my face. “I know we’ve met.”
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