“My fault,” Sean said. “I should have made it a priority.”
“It’s not your fault.” Laverne tossed down the dish towel. “We thought we’d get out of the business first. Then it wouldn’t be ‘meet my girlfriend, we do porn together.’ Although, Des thought you probably wouldn’t hear anything after ‘girlfriend,’ so she thought it would be fine to do it sooner.”
Sean looked away, his eyes cataloging everything in the apartment.
“You looking for something?” she asked. “We keep the sex toys in the bedroom.” Laverne’s voice was flat and vicious.
“Where do you keep the drugs?” Sean returned the favor.
To his surprise and chagrin, the tears she had been holding back began to flow in earnest and great big sobs shuddered through her. His first reaction was to walk out and go to the gym and hit something hard. But if Mary Katherine had loved her, she would have be ashamed of him if he did.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” He looked around for tissues before handing her the kitchen towel.
Laverne got herself under control after a few minutes. “The lasagna should be done. Why don’t you go sit down?”
And go fuck yourself.
Sean finished the sentence in his head for her. He sat at the table, taking a healthy swig of the wine. Completely aerated or not, it soothed his temper as it went down. He was mad at only himself.
A text came through and he fished his phone out of his pants to see who it was. It was Liz. All the air exited the room. His fingers shook when he thumbed to the message.
RU still coming as Prinz Charming????? 2morrow @8 B there or B []
Jonathan had gotten his hands on his mother’s phone.
Yes.
Let her call or text him back and tell him not to come if she wanted to. Of course, now he had to figure out how to get a prince costume the night before Halloween. Hell, he was in New York City, he should be able to find something. Google was a lifesaver. He looked up from his phone when a plate of steaming hot lasagna was put in front of him. Laverne’s portion was more moderately sized.
“What are you looking up?”
He told her and she laughed. It sounded like bells ringing. If it was true that an angel gets its wings every time a bell rang, maybe Mary Katherine was fluttering nearby.
“Do you have blue pants—not jeans—and a white shirt?”
Sean narrowed his eyes in thought. “Sweatpants, yeah.”
“Go to the fabric store tomorrow and buy a few yards of gold rick rack and glue them up and down the outside of the legs. You got a sword, right?”
“Uh, no.” He picked up his fork and tried to decide how to shovel a mouthful in without burning his tongue. Settling on blowing at it, he looked up at Laverne expectantly.
“Well, get one. You can’t be Prince Charming without a sword.”
He put down the fork to make a note on his phone: riftraft, whatever the hell that was, sword . . .
“Your regular belt should work. Just wear it over your shirt. You’re going to need epaulets.”
“I am?”
“You can make them out of white cardboard and glue them on your shoulders.”
glue, white cardboard . . .
“A sash. A large gold sash. And you should be done.” Laverne beamed and tucked into her side salad.
Oh yeah, he hadn’t noticed there was a nice green salad. He ate that first to be polite and because the inside of the lasagna was still molten.
“Thank you for inviting me,” he said, trying to make up for his earlier bluntness.
“I wish it had been while she was still alive.”
“Laverne,” he put down his fork. “Why did she die?”
It was the question his heart had been asking for more than three months, but it was the first time it came out of his mouth.
Laverne took a long swallow of wine. “I ask myself that all the time.”
“When did she start using?”
Laverne shook her head. “She didn’t. Not really. She was always chasing a new thrill, a new experience. I know she tried drugs before but didn’t like them. Marijuana made her hungry and sleepy. Cocaine bounced her off the wall. The ice was a new thing. I saw the pipe, but she was always buying edgy paraphernalia like that. I didn’t think she was smoking anything.” Laverne rolled her eyes and took another deep swallow of wine. “She used to tell off the crew who went outside to smoke. ‘You’re ruining the air . . .’”
“‘For all of us,’” Sean mimicked his sister’s voice.
“Exactly.” Laverne saluted him with her glass.
“Why didn’t you come to the funeral?” he asked.
“I did. I stayed in the back. I waited until you all had left.”
“You could have introduced yourself. Said you were a friend.”
“I wasn’t just her friend.” Laverne slammed down her fork. “And I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise to a bunch of self-righteous assholes who would have told me my wife was going to hell.”
“Wife?” Sean croaked.
Laverne waved her hand wearily. “We never had the chance to make it legal. But it was another thing we were going to do. And now we never will.” She looked down at her plate and started toying with her lasagna.
Sean drank wine because he didn’t know what to say.
“Brian told me you thought porn drove her to the drugs,” Laverne said when the silence became too much.
“No,” Sean said. “I didn’t know. I convinced myself the lifestyle led to drug abuse, but three months of analysis with NYU’s finest computers and I can’t find any correlation that doesn’t exist in other professions as well.”
He thought of Sabrina’s comment about stockbrokers and it was true; they scored in the highest percentile of drug users in the workplace.
“Brian also told me that Mary Katherine was very happy in her chosen profession and with you,” Sean said.
“I’d like to think so.” Laverne stared out into the living room. “What do your parents know about her death and her life?”
“They don’t know about the stripping, or the porn, or you.”
Laverne’s smile resembled a grimace. “Their little baby got swallowed up by the Big City?”
Sean nodded. “I can see that’s where they’re slanting the truth to be.”
“Are you going to tell them the real truth?” she glared at him.
“No. It serves no point. My parents wouldn’t believe it anyway.”
“They should know that what we had wasn’t a sin or disgusting. It was beautiful. We loved each other.” Laverne was crying again, and this time he pushed his chair back and went over to her.
After an awkward moment, he hugged her. And after another awkward pause, she hugged him back. While they comforted each other, the lasagna cooled down and the tears dried up. Sean resumed his seat and poured two more glasses of wine.
“I’m glad you brought the big bottle,” she said.
“I planned ahead.”
“Des said you were a Boy Scout. She was proud of everything you accomplished. She thought your dad drove you too hard.”
Sean shrugged. “It was his way.”
“Was it tough growing up with him?”
Sean sighed and dug into his lasagna. “It wasn’t a picnic.” Flavors exploded in his mouth, the creamy ricotta and the smoky mozzarella. The sauce was fresh and bits of meats and sausage dotted throughout it. “This. Is. Amazing,” he said around a mouthful.
“It was Des’s favorite.”
Sean chewed and swallowed. “You never call her by her real name?”
“Desiree was her real name. She hated Mary Katherine.” Laverne sipped her wine, shooting him a challenging look over the glass.
He blinked. Took another big bite, savored it. “I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot of things you didn’t know.” Glancing down at her plate, she sighed. “And now it’s too late.”
Sean leaned back in his chair. “I’m s
orry for that. I wish I could change things, but I can’t. I am happy that my sister had a nice life. She seemed like she was happy.”
Laverne dabbed at her eyes. “I’d like to think so.”
“She wouldn’t have been satisfied to stay on Long Island.”
“Not with your parents anyway.” Laverne gave a half laugh.
“Even without them. Manhattan was her city. She belonged here. She belonged with you.” Sean tapped his wine glass to hers.
“Are you going to pretend I didn’t exist and that she didn’t fuck on camera for money?” Laverne challenged.
“I’m not going to dwell on the ‘fucking’ part. Eww, that’s my sister you’re talking about. But no. As far as I’m concerned, you are my sister-in-law.” Sean finished his wine.
“But I’m a lesbian.” Laverne regarded him with narrowed eyes.
“Which is why you’re not my brother-in-law.” He refilled his glass and topped off hers.
“I thought your people have a problem with my people.” Laverne waggled her fork back and forth between them.
“I’m a therapist. We’re all people. We all make mistakes. Some of us regret them for the rest of our lives.” He thought of Liz. “Some of us die from them.” He shook his head. “What a fucking waste. I’d like to smash that pipe over Mar—Desiree’s thick head.”
“Get in line,” Laverne said, and then attacked her lasagna with gusto.
They made quick work of the rest of the meal and took their wine into the comfy chairs that looked out over the city.
“What are you going to do?” he asked. “Are you still going to make movies?”
“Nah,” she shook her head. “Too much hassle. I’ve got a webcam set up in the bedroom. I cut out the middle man. I have a subscription service. I do webcasts and interviews. Every Monday is a guest feature.”
“If you don’t mind asking, how much . . .”
“Enough to pay for this apartment every month and to live decently in the greatest city of the world.” Laverne primped her hair and gave him a sassy grin.
“Holy shit,” he said. “I thought when I made five hundred dollars a night it was top dollar.”
“What?” Laverne goggled at him.
So he told her all about dancing at Club 69. And, of course, that led into FATE and Liz. Pretty soon he was drinking more wine and telling Laverne all about his stupid ideas.
“Just because I thought I could be like Margaret Mead in Samoa.” He slapped his hand against his forehead. “I’m such a jackass. I forgot the rules. Shadowing, cultural immersion, minimum impact. All out the fucking window. Bottom line is that we’re all people and we’re all some type of fucked up inside. And now I lost the best thing in my life because I was an arrogant jerk.”
“You need to tell her that,” Laverne said.
“I tried. She hates me.” The wine was making him maudlin and he was half aware that he was on his way to a good drunk.
Another text buzzed in his pants. If it was Liz telling him not to bother, he was going to toss his phone in the trash. But it wasn’t. It was McManus.
You’re inked for Kyle Donovan. Be at the gym Saturday 7 am.
“Seven a.m.?”
“Isn’t that still the middle of the night?” Laverne said.
“On a Saturday no less?”
Laverne winced. “What could possibly be worth being somewhere at that hour?”
“I’m going to be a sparring partner for an up-and-coming heavyweight. I guess that’s when the professionals train. I love getting up early on my day off to get the shit kicked out of me.”
“You could have said no.”
Sean shook his head. “Nah, I’ll take my lumps. It’s penance.”
“You Catholics are weird.”
“It’s genetic,” Sean said. “Well, I should get going. Thank you for a lovely dinner.” He got up, staggered a bit as the room tilted. He risked falling on his ass by leaning down and kissing her cheek.
“Why don’t you stay here for a while? Just until you sober up.”
“Nope,” he said. “I’ve got to find riff raff for my costume tomorrow. I want to impress Liz.”
“Wait,” Laverne stood up. “She’s going to be at the costume party?”
“Yup. Her son just asked me if I was still going. He’s going to be a Power Ranger. But Liz is going to be dressed as Cinderella.”
“You didn’t tell me this was hardcore.”
Sean blinked. “Is that an industry term? Because I’m not taking my pants off again.”
“Oh yes, you are. I’ll need to sew the rickrack on them. I originally came to New York to do costumes and backstage work. I wasn’t that good. And porn pays better. But I can hook you up with a Prince Charming costume.”
“I guess this makes you my fairy godmother.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Laverne handed him his jacket and spun him out the door. She locked up and followed.
Chapter Seventeen
Liz wiggled her toes in her sneakers and tried not to feel like she was cheating. No one would know or care that she wasn’t wearing glass slippers under the big blue dress, but it still felt wrong. She put a cautious hand up to her blonde wig to make sure it was holding up.
“You look beautiful, Mom,” Jonathan said.
He had been so excited to see her in her costume. He even made her put on makeup and go all out.
“No one is going to be looking at me, sweetheart. They’re all going to be wondering who the brave Red Power Ranger is.”
Jonathan struck a pose and Liz fake shivered. The school was decorated like a haunted house, with black crepe paper and cotton ball spider webs. The cafeteria was set up like a club with the tables on the far sides so the center was the dancing. The DJ was playing oldies like “The Purple People Eater” and the tamer versions of some of Dr. Demento’s favorites.
Jonathan spotted his friends. They were dressed as mummies, ninja turtles, and a green-hatted elf that was either Link or Legolas, but Liz wasn’t sure. Looking around, she saw some mothers she knew, but as she made her way over to them, they split up and went in different directions. Changing course herself, she got a glass of orange punch and a cookie from the table.
“Did you make these?” she asked one of the teachers, who smiled coldly and walked away.
What the hell was wrong with everyone? Didn’t they know she just wanted a fun night out with some adult conversation? One where she didn’t spend her time analyzing Sean’s every single word and action since the moment they first started chatting online. There’d been clues, she admitted. And, to give him credit, he did try and start conversations. In her defense, though, Liz had thought they were about his sister’s death and not about the revelation of his big, fat lies. But maybe she should have let him finish instead of jumping his bones. He listened to her confession about Jonathan’s existence, after all. Feeling very much an outcast, Liz walked the decorated halls to her son’s classroom to admire all the work on the walls. She sought out his stuff and was pleased to see his handwriting was neat and that his recycle poster was done on the computer. Impressed, Liz headed back toward the main area. Maybe she would find an alcove and text Sarah.
“Liz Carter! I was hoping you were going to be here.”
Liz smiled. Finally, someone wanted to talk to her. Unfortunately, she didn’t recognize the man coming toward her. He was dressed like the devil, which wasn’t easing her nerves any, but what really scared her was not the red-horned costume with the barbed tail. No, it was the fact that he carried a DVD case.
Now she really wished she had glass slippers so she could smash them on his head.
“I’m a really big fan. Would you sign this for me? My son’s in your son’s class. Luke.” The devil pointed and, sure enough, a little angel was talking with Jonathan. They seemed oblivious.
Liz took the pen he handed her, thinking it could be used as a weapon. Of all the things Sean never got around to explaining, self-defense wa
s at the top of the list. “I’m surprised you recognized me,” she said, accepting the DVD from him.
“I didn’t.” He beamed at her. “Renee told me.”
“Renee?” Liz asked.
“The school secretary.”
“Mrs. Pierce?” she shrieked.
“She didn’t recognize you either. Not at first. It was your friend, Sugar. She’s not here, too, is she?” A lecherous look came over him as he scanned the room. He chuckled, a low and dirty sound. “I’d give my left nut to get a picture with her.”
“Mrs. Pierce recognized Sar—Sugar?”
Liz had introduced Sarah to Mrs. Pierce as Sarah Canning. Closing her eyes, Liz saw her mistake. It had been all over the papers who Cole Canning married. Mrs. Pierce just needed to put together the pieces.
“Did you leave a DVD at my door? And send one to my school?” she accused the man.
“Huh? No. I figured we’d run into each other sooner or later. So, are you alone?”
Before Liz could jab him with the pen, a deep, familiar voice from behind her said, “No.”
Luke’s dad looked up and laughed. “Well, I see your prince has come. Have fun tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You lucky dog.”
Liz scribbled her name and handed it back to the disgusting man. It was the quickest way to get rid of him. She didn’t dare turn around.
“What are you doing here?” Liz whispered once Luke’s dad sauntered away out of earshot.
“Haven’t checked your text messages lately?”
Sean’s voice was dry and she could feel the heat coming off his body. Part of her wanted to melt into his warmth and strength, the other part of her was telling her to grow a pair. She decided to look through her old texts instead.
“Jonathan,” she sighed. “He doesn’t understand.”
“Actually, neither do you. I wanted . . .”
She held up her hand. “I know who you are, Doc.”
Now it was his turn to sigh. “Not yet, but I am going for the PhD.”
Liz whirled on him. “What was truth and what were lies?” She jammed her hands onto her hips, but the sight of him wilted her. He looked exactly like Prince Charming. Right down to the details.
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