by Roxy Harte
“Hiroko, see reason.”
She smiles. “I am more terrified of walking through our front door than you could ever imagine, but I am resolved to do this.”
“I am as resolute you will not do this.”
Chapter 41
Bianca
Rain falls from the sky, matching my mood, except I am completely out of tears and the dampness on my face is from the precipitation. There was a moment Bishop made me believe I would have to call a taxi to get to the airport, but at the last possible second, he drove. Saying goodbye to Hiroko was as hard as saying goodbye to Bishop now is.
I can’t explain how she makes me feel, except when she enters the room, it is like the sun coming out after a stormy day. She fills me with joy, for no other reason than she exists, and that is hard to understand or explain.
“I never meant to come between the two of you and I have,” I say as Bishop joins me on the curb.
“You’ve opened our eyes to needs we’ve had but been unwilling to face. That is not coming between us. Neither of us want you to go.”
I meet his gaze, holding tight to my resolve to go home. “I can’t tour if I stay here. Now that I know what I want, I can’t let go of my dream again…and you’ve made your feelings very clear concerning Hiroko’s involvement in my plans.”
“So, we’re at an impasse because I love my wife and want only what’s best for her.”
I laugh in his face. I can’t help it.
“I know you don’t agree with how I take care of my wife. You are from a different world than hers.”
“You use antiquated traditions to keep her subjugated to your will.”
“And you walk around in leather, wielding a whip and making men call you Mistress. How can you stand in such self-righteousness?”
Impasse. Yep. That sums it up.
I walk away. No amount of rehashing or arguing is going to fix this mess. I don’t look back. I can’t let him see my broken expression. I was so foolish. Falling in love is for little girls who still believe in happily ever after, and no matter how much I love Bishop, no matter how much I love Hiroko, there is no happiness in our future.
Hours in the air doesn’t lift my bleak outlook. I don’t go home. There isn’t anyone there, and I don’t want to be alone. I go to Orgasms because I like the atmosphere and almost everyone knows me. I can hide here, and no one will care that I was ever Bebé.
Alec sees me and pushes me a tumbler of their best Irish whiskey, poured over two cubes of ice.
I say, “Keep them coming, okay?”
He winks and does what he’s told. I love a man who obeys, and by my third drink I’m looking at Alec with fresh interest.
Adrian slides in beside me. I look at him, then behind him, expecting Toby. “Where’s your boy toy?”
“Ah, that’s right, you’ve been away so you don’t know. Toby dumped me.”
I pick up my dropped jaw, slurring, “Now that is truly a shocker. What happened?”
Adrian asks Alec to bring around some coffee, and I see that he already has two cups in his hand. As always Alec is the world’s best barkeep. He pours coffee and I sip, more because my throat is dry than the urge to kill my buzz.
“She moved to Malibu. She said it puts her closer to work, she’s filming her new fitness show on the beach now, but I have it on good authority that she moved in with one of the Advocate writers.”
“Good authority?”
He pulls a copy of The Advocate from behind the bar and opens it to a two page spread on Toby.
I whistle. Toby looks absolutely dazzling on high-sheen paper. “Did they airbrush this, or have her abs always looked that fucking amazing?”
He points to the final paragraph, not answering my question.
I read, “As of this printing Tobias Fitzsimmons is no longer single. As a direct result of this magazine interview, she married writer Lexi Dade-Smith.”
“Ah,” I say. “How sweet is that? Did they fall in love during the interview? This could be a Harlequin novel. Blistering heat, passion, marriage within days of meeting.”
“Harlequin doesn’t accept lesbian love, and you’ve been gone three months. They actually dated for two before saying ‘I do,’” he corrects.
“Damn. Married? Seriously? What’s her last name going to be? Did she give up her last name or did this Ms. Dade-Smith give up hers?”
“They’re both professionals. Neither are giving up their names.”
Looking at the photo spread of Tobias Fitzsimmons, out of the closet fitness guru, I suddenly really regret not getting naked with her when I had the opportunity. Once I manage to stop drooling over Toby’s abs, I start reading out loud. “Speaking softly, Tobias Fitzsimmons, Toby to those who know her best, hides what’s left of her childhood British accent. She won’t speak of her time there, she barely speaks of her time spent here, but she will talk about her passions…fitness and art…so in interviewing her I focused on that. I find out quickly enough that Toby doesn’t like labels, whether they be queer, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, butch. She wants nothing to do with labels. Much like her paintings, her life isn’t contained within the lines, whether those defined by herself or others. She prefers to define her reality and with it, her sexuality, with a uniqueness all her own.”
“Is that really necessary?” Adrian asks, trying to snatch back the magazine.
“Sad for you, huh?”
He makes another wild swing and despite my tipsiness, I manage to outmaneuver him. I keep reading. “Fitzsimmon’s art will be on display at her first solo exhibit, titled, ‘Love Affair,’ at The Interim Gallery in Malibu through January third.”
I look up, asking, “What’s the date?”
Alec volunteers, “The fourteenth.”
“Two weeks. Good. I still have time to make it. Did you go to the opening?”
Adrian grumbles, “I wasn’t invited.”
“Well, we’re going. So open a date on your calendar.”
He hugs me from behind, and once I’m distracted he grabs the magazine and tosses it back behind the bar. He whispers against my cheek, “I’m glad you are home.”
I laugh. “I am not a Toby substitute.”
“This has nothing to do with Toby. I really did miss you. And I’m worried about you. I thought you’d gone and turned Japanese on me. Like I might never see you again.”
I’m suddenly sorry that I am eight shades of intoxicated. I swallow big gulps of coffee then fight hard to keep the whiskey in my stomach where it belongs and the emotion locked out of my heart where it isn’t welcome.
“Give me my keys, Alec,” I demand as he pours more coffee.
“You’re drunk, Bianca,” Adrian admonishes me. “You aren’t driving anywhere.”
“Call me a taxi, Alec.” I stand, sticking out my tongue at Adrian before tripping out of one of my four-inch stilettos.
Adrian bends to pick it up for me and helps me put my foot back into it.
“Thank you.” I weave on my feet, the next step I lose both shoes and Adrian picks me up. Alec retrieves my shoes and follows us to the back exit. “Put me down.”
“Bianca, you’re drunk as hell, and I’m inches away from firing Alec because you got this drunk right under his nose and he didn’t even notice it.”
“I served her a few shots at the beginning of the evening, boss. I don’t know what happened.”
“Men happened, Alec. Men buy women drinks. Your job is to keep the women from getting this intoxicated. Do you realize anyone could have picked her up in the condition she’s in?”
“In the condition I’m in?” I ask, outraged. “I just read an entire article out of that damned magazine.”
“Congratulations, you can read. You still aren’t going anywhere except my apartment upstairs until you are one hundred percent sober.”
“I’m not having sex with you.”
“That’s probably for the best.” He kisses my temple as he starts carrying me up the stairs. “You’re a
horrible lay when you’re drunk.”
I WAKE UP BUT DON’T open my eyes. Disoriented, I hope for a minute that the last twenty-four hours have been a bad dream, that I am still in Tokyo, that I still have hope for happily ever after because I’ve never been as happy as I was with Bishop, Hiroko, and their children, but then I smell bacon frying and know that my nightmare is real.
I’m back in LA.
What in the fuck do I do with my life now?
“Wake up, sunshine.” Adrian throws open the blackout curtains, allowing blinding light to stream in.
It hurts…even with my eyes tightly closed. “Oh God.”
He flops down beside me, making the mattress bounce and my stomach roll. I brave opening one eye to find him dressed. “We didn’t sleep together?”
“You were a little too drunk for that.”
“Oh.” That wouldn’t have stopped him before. “What’s going on? You haven’t made a move on me at all. Is there something else that’s changed since I’ve been in Tokyo?”
“A month after Toby moved out, Phelps moved in.”
“Oh? Oh-hh!”
“Come on, get up, get movin, get in the shower. Phelps is making you breakfast.”
My boiling stomach argues with the suggestion. “Not hungry.”
“Too bad. Everyone eats when Phelps cooks. Trust me, you are going to want to eat.”
Post shower and facing a stack of Phelps’s made-from-scratch pancakes, I actually agree food is a good idea.
“So, Tokyo? What was that like?” Phelps inquires.
“Different. Very different.”
Adrian arches his brow questioningly. “So, being the secluded mistress wasn’t all it was cracked up to be?”
“I wasn’t secluded.”
“His wife knew about you?”
“I’d say so. We formed a ménage.”
Phelps announces, “I’d be up for a threesome.”
Half joking I ask, “Would it make me feel better about my life?”
“It couldn’t hurt.” Adrian leans in and kisses my shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”
“And I’d really like to get to know you better,” Phelps says, lifting my hand and kissing my knuckles.
“A scene? Or just sex?” I ask, growing more curious and hoping to drive visions of Bishop and Hiroko from my brain. There’s no better way to go than to get right back on the horse after being thrown, right?
The two men share a look, making me wonder who is the dominant one in their relationship. Suddenly, I don’t want to dominate anyone. I say, “How about just sex?”
“Damn, and I had such lovely knots forming in my mind,” Adrian admits, waggling his eyebrows. “I could tie you together in an intimate cocoon.”
“Ah, but there’s also time constraints today,” Phelps reminds him. “We need time to dress for the bondage ball.”
“Good point,” Adrian agrees, pulling me to my feet.
“Bondage ball? Tonight?” I groan. I am so not ready for this. “I think I’ll pass.”
“What exactly happened to you in Tokyo, Mistress? Are we going to have to have an intervention?” Adrian gives me a long look before dropping to his knees to kneel before me. He unbuttons my jeans and starts sliding the fabric down my legs.
Phelps pulls my arms behind me, holding me in a tight grip as he kisses and bites my neck and shoulders. They leave me feeling very out of control of the situation, very unmistressy, but I don’t do anything to take control of the situation.
Adrian spreads my labia, making my clit easy to find. He doesn’t ask permission to lick, he just does, and within minutes I’m shaking, quaking, screaming.
Phelps holds me tighter, still kissing, still biting, as I rise and fall on waves of orgasm. “Oh God, Ohhhh God.”
LYING ON THE FLOOR between Adrian and Phelps I laugh and laugh. I’m hysterical. I can’t stop laughing. “Dear God, we’re an incestuous bunch.”
“You have no idea.”
“What?” I roll to face Adrian.
He admits, “I had sex with Jameson while you were in Tokyo.”
“Oh God!” I moan, torn between total disgust and humor. “Do I even want to hear this?”
DRESSED IN LEATHER for the first time in ages, and surrounded by a hundred similar costumed friends, I am once again reigning Queen Bee. Being at the bondage ball makes me feel like I never left, like the three months in Tokyo never happened, until my cellphone rings and I see that it is Bishop. I almost collapse with the sudden overwhelming heartache, and pivot quickly to face a blank wall so no one will witness my moment of weakness.
Much can be said for hiding behind a persona. I’ve done it for years, and sliding back into my role of Mistress was easy, so easy, it almost completely covered the pain of leaving Bishop and Hiroko.
I consider not answering, but my racing heart won’t let me press ignore. “Hello?”
“So you are alive. I thought you’d at least call and let me know you landed safely.”
I deserve the chastisement, I should have called, but before I can say anything he is talking again, “We want you to come home. Both Hiroko and I. I’m sorry I didn’t handle things so well, and I am willing to see how things play out concerning your tour and having Hiroko manage your career before insisting it won’t work.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I want you to join Hiroko and our family permanently. I want you to make a commitment to us…think of it as marrying me and Hiroko…and then putting that relationship before all else, fit your career into our life together.”
I understand what he is saying. If the tour would interfere with the ménage he would expect me to set it aside. The tour. My career. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
I hang up, regretting having answered. I love them both and want to return to them. I guess the question boils down to which I want more, love or a career?
Holy shit. Am I really considering going back?
A quick scan of the room leads my gaze to a corner stage where Adrian is in the process of tying and suspending Phelps. I walk over to a stage side table and sit, then grab a drink off a tray carried by a passing waiter. I take a long swallow before turning my attention to the scene. Watching Adrian with Phelps makes me feel as separate from him as I did when he played with Toby. We might be fuck buddies, but we’ll never be more than fuck buddies. The thought makes me sad.
“I heard you were back.”
I look up to find Jameson towering over me, also with a drink in hand.
“Mind if I join you?”
I gesture at an empty chair, thinking he looks good. Relaxed. I wonder how far away Emma is and how long a conversation we can fit in before she comes to find him.
He sits his drink on the table and folds his hands in front of him. “I’m legally separated. I have my own apartment now, closer to my new job. I’m getting my life back. It’s been slow, but I think everything is going to work out.”
“Good for you,” I say, surprised. I don’t ask where he’s working, or what he’s doing. I’m numb to him. I don’t care.
“The divorce shouldn’t take too long.”
“Wow. I never really believed you’d do it.”
“There were days I wasn’t sure I could. Adrian’s been a big help, moral support, someone to talk to.” He strokes my wrist. “Do you ever think you might want to try being a couple again?”
A few months ago I would have said yes without even considering the consequences. Now, I want more. “Who’d you come here with, if not Emma?”
“Just a girl. Nobody really. She isn’t important.”
I nod. “Is that what you’re going to whisper in her ear while you fuck her tonight? That’s she’s a nobody? That she isn’t important?”
Before he can answer the crowd starts a chant for Mistress Bee to come up on stage. I look up to see the chant is being led by Adrian. Is this his attempt to rescue me from Jameson, or is this merely a jealous streak showing?
Making a q
uick escape, I hurry to my car and call Bishop. “You won’t stand in the way of Hiroko managing my career?”
“Not if you always place the ménage first.”
My heart is pounding, racing so fast it hurts to breathe as I admit, “I want your and Hiroko’s love more than I want a singing career, so you won’t have to worry about that. I was thinking…instead of a big, world comeback tour, maybe I could just play at a few intimate clubs. Very low key and non disruptive for our family.”
Sounding guarded, he answers slowly, “If that’s what you want. It might be a way of easing into your career slowly.”
“Slowly. Yes.” Will it be? Slow. Too slow? Will I be bored. The recent rampage of paparazzi comes to mind. “There will still be cameras. Everywhere. The media pries… the media discovers secrets you didn’t even know you were keeping, and then the world knows you better than you know yourself.”
“That’s what happened before?”
“My life spiraled quickly down the toilet …before.”
“Yes, I believe that was your perception about what the media was writing about you, but obviously your fans still adore you. Your fans still want you.”
I sigh heavily, closing my eyes. I miss my fans. I miss the tantalizing thrum of adrenaline rushing into my veins as I am converged upon, my name being screamed by hundreds. I don’t miss the unbearable exhaustion that living on adrenaline brought with it. And I really don’t miss the terror of being killed on the freeway as I try to escape overzealous paparazzi. “I want to come home… to you. To Hiroko. But I can’t promise the shows will stay small, even if they start small. There might be a world tour in the future and it will be disruptive. Neither of you can come into this life with me if you aren’t ready to accept that. Can you?”
He doesn’t answer my question. Instead he asks, “How soon can you be here?”
“As soon as I can get a flight.”
“Sweetheart, the jet is at LAX waiting for you.”
A weight that has been hanging over my shoulders releases and I relax, smiling. I feel happy. Really, really happy. Happier than I’ve ever been in my life. “I love you. Hug Hiroko for me and tell her I’m coming home.”