by Cecilia Tan
Chino moving in sparked a flurry of re-nesting: we decided to put a new coat of paint into the spare room and change the light fixtures in the bathroom and that sort of thing, which meant a few days went by during which we made slow progress on the renovations because we kept pausing to have sex.
Flora finally called one night when Chino was out at a band publicity appearance and I was filming a toy review video. I was lying in bed, sweat-soaked from trying to come using a vibrator that was simply too weak for me when the phone rang. I scrambled to answer it. “Flora?”
“Madison,” she said. “I’m not sure what to do now.”
“Okay, talk me through what you’ve done so far.” I lay back and tried to slow my breathing.
“My mother, Ana, I think she’s ready to talk to you. She very grudgingly admitted to me the other day that perhaps she views my stepfather as a problem. But I looked up my brother on the Internet.”
“Are you allowed to do that?”
“I’m not supposed to, but I’m not supposed to call you, either.”
“True.”
“Anyway, about Chino. I fear she’s going to think he’s even worse.”
“Worse than your father? Why?”
“Have you seen the videos and photographs of his musical group?”
Oh, dear. “Yes, yes, Flora, I have, but you have to explain to her that what you see in promo videos is not the same as abuse. That’s not what they actually do at all.”
“Ah,” she said brightly. “You mean it’s all for show, for an image, because sex sells to the decadent public.”
“Not exactly, but—”
“I can tell her that. I can explain that. I think maybe she’ll want to speak to him before she makes a decision. We’re trying to be careful. So careful.”
“I know. Flora, can I speak to her?”
“Not today. Tomorrow, though. I think tomorrow. Around three o’clock.”
“Okay. I’ll be here. I’ll be ready.”
“Thank you. Good-bye.” Her good-bye was stiff and formal, like most of what she said to me, as if she were speaking in a courtroom. It was weird but at least she was speaking to us.
The next day I finally spoke to Ana. Chino was there, sitting silently at my kitchen table, with the phone on speaker.
“Is this Miss Madison?” She had a slight accent.
“Ana, it’s just Madison. Flora told me you were going to call. I’m so glad you did.”
“Yes, well, she said you might be able to help.” Like her daughter, she spoke very formally on the phone. “As you know I have been married to this man for many years. My goal was always to provide a safe, stable environment to raise my children.”
Chino leaned forward suddenly and I motioned to him to stay quiet.
“My youngest has just left the house. I have done what I set out to do. But I made a promise before God that I would be bound to this man for eternity.”
Chino opened his mouth but I forestalled him with a stop-sign hand. I got this. “Ana, I know your marriage vows are very important to you. But if one partner is abusive to the other? Those who make the home unsafe for their partners or other members of the family, they are the ones who have broken the sacred covenant of marriage.”
“Hmph. And is that your opinion?”
“That’s the opinion of many church leaders, ma’am. In the same way that adultery would be unfaithful, and grounds for dissolving a marriage, mistreatment and abuse of many kinds are also bad faith. God requires none of his children to remain in situations that threaten their well-being or the well-being of their children. That comes directly from the United States conference of Catholic Bishops.”
“Well, smart lady, how shall I deal with the fact that I entered into this marriage in bad faith to begin with, for the sake of my children and not for love?”
Chino looked like a ghost, his mouth hanging slightly open.
“Ma’am, nowhere in the vows is love guaranteed. Does he love you?”
“I am certain he does not. If he loves anything it is the feeling of superiority he lords over me. He expected to make me a slave—do you understand that? By rescuing a desperate woman such as myself—poor, disadvantaged, with illegitimate children—he not only made himself a hero in the eyes of his community, he guaranteed himself a slave for life. Cook, clean, serve him, as a wife yes, but far beyond what the other wives of this community provide to their husbands. No money of my own. No worth. No freedom. Because this is what he wanted. A slave. And this was how he could get it. I was too young and stupid to know what I was getting myself and my family into. I did not love him but I loved having a Prince Charming, a knight upon a white horse who swept in and promised me a castle and education for my children.”
“Did Flora go to college?”
“Well, no. She stayed with me because she was afraid for me. She took classes at the community college. She would like to go to nursing school but she has been too afraid to leave me alone with him.”
“Thank you for telling me that, Ana. It sounds to me like you’re ready to leave him?” I prepared myself mentally for the next step in the call, which was if she said yes, if she was ready to leave him, trying to nail down a few concrete exit strategies. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. But if he knew I was going to do this, well, let us say a man does not let a slave escape easily. You may have grasped by now I am not an impulsive woman. I am patient. I make plans. I will need a divorce lawyer. I will need transportation. I will need shelter. I will need money. I will need a guarantee that Flora is safe, too.”
“You’ll have all that,” Chino said suddenly. “Mamá, money is not a problem. You want a castle? I’ll buy you a castle.”
“Chino?” All the hardness in her voice suddenly disappeared. “Oh my sweet boy I’ve missed you.”
Chino’s hand gripped the edge of the table. “Mamá.”
She said something then in rapid-fire Spanish that I couldn’t catch but whatever she said filled his eyes with tears.
“Ana, is there a friend or neighbor you might trust if you have to flee suddenly?”
“I trust no one but my own daughter.”
“Then we’ll need to get you plane tickets, and we’ll need to arrange a time—”
“I’ll come get you,” Chino said. “We’ll come get you in a car; I’ll have the band’s head of security come with me—”
“I must go. I will call again tomorrow at this time if I am able to get away undetected. Good-bye, mi hijo. Thank you, Miss Madison.”
She hung up and Chino put his face into his hands.
I moved behind him and rubbed his shoulders, trying to get him to release the tension, but no such luck. When he looked up at me it was with distress on his face. “I’m such an idiot.”
“This isn’t about you,” I reminded him gently.
“I know. But, man, what kind of idiot have I been? I believed she loved that guy more than my father. I blamed her for what happened to my childhood. And all along she willingly sacrificed her freedom and risked her health so that we wouldn’t go hungry.” He swallowed hard. “And she’s been pretending she didn’t love me so he’d be none the wiser. Because defying him meant punishment of some kind. I’m sure of it.”
“What did she say to you?” I asked.
He hung his head. “That if she was regaining me as a son she hoped I’d be a good boy, now.”
“Oh, Chino.”
“Yeah.” He stood swiftly and wrapped me into a hug. “I…don’t even know what to think. Where did you get all of that stuff about the covenant of marriage?”
“I wasn’t kidding. From the Catholic bishops. When I worked the hotline we got women all the time who knew they were in abusive relationships but thought they were required by the Church to stay with their husbands at all costs. That’s not true.”
“Well, good for the bishops, I guess.” He let go of me suddenly and patted himself, looking for his phone. “If we’re going to get her
out of there, she’s going to need a place to stay. Buying something will take a while. I better call my landlord and tell him I’m keeping the place until September after all.”
“Your phone’s by the bed.”
“Thank you.” He kissed me on the cheek and hurried to find it. Meanwhile I texted Gwen to ask her for the name and number of the divorce lawyer Schmitt’s wife had hired.
* * *
With all the guys in the band back in town, Ricki and Gwen had us over to the mansion for dinner one night. The energy in that room was crackling: three couples, three dominant men with their submissive women, none of us needing to hide who we were or exactly how we felt about each other. It felt a little like the party in Palm Springs except all six of us knew each other so well. Axel and Mal were happy to give Chino a hard time about taking so long to catch up to them.
The Hamilton staff cooked up an incredible meal and wine flowed freely. But when dessert was done and we were taking our after-dinner drinks on the verandah overlooking the pool Ricki said, “Okay, this isn’t merely a social occasion. Gwen and I have something really serious to discuss.”
Gwen and Mal were sitting together in a swing and Ricki paced back and forth in front of them as she talked.
“I’m getting more and more concerned that the club can’t remain a secret. I think there’s some chance even if the current tabloid flak goes away that it might end up coming out during Schmitt’s divorce proceedings. And if not then, the next tabloid scandal is on the horizon. Reeve thinks he saw a camera drone fly over yesterday. I want us to seriously consider taking control of the narrative for ourselves and, for lack of a better word, coming out.”
“You mean, make a public statement about the existence of the club?” Mal asked.
“Yes. And to use it to our advantage, to send a message that BDSM is safe, sane, and consensual, and not something we feel we have to hide. The Rough could use it as a publicity lever, certainly. And I have a few personal and business interests that might be rolled into such an initiative.”
Mal tossed his head. “I’ve nothing to hide.”
“And I certainly think we’re reaching the point where it’s probably not going to negatively affect my career,” Gwen added. “Ever since the whole public proposal thing, people have pretty much assumed about me and Mal. It’s really not like it was even a secret what Mal was into before that.”
“Same here,” Ricki said, gesturing at Axel, who was sitting at a patio table and grinning up at her like he was as in love with her at this moment as he had been when they’d first met.
“What are the personal and business interests you were mentioning?” I asked Ricki from my perch on Chino’s lap. He felt tense under my hands, his eyes zeroing in on Ricki.
“Well, personally I want to launch a charity aimed at educating domestic violence advocates that BDSM is not abuse and that those of us who practice consensually have just as much of a vested interest in stopping non-consensual abuse as they do.”
“That would be fantastic,” I said. “That was ultimately why I had to quit working the hotline. I just couldn’t take day after day of having to hear counselors who should have known better telling women that if they liked spanking or bondage and then they got abused that they had ‘asked for it’ or ‘deserved it.’”
“As for business interests, Madison, that deal for PlayPeople is going through. Signed the paperwork today.” Her grin was almost sheepish. “So I guess in a way I’m your boss now. Or, again. Additionally. Whatever.”
“Cool. The money behind the site was all old porno money.”
“It was. The old money was in extorting a shame tax from lonely men. The new money is all in engagement between the site and women and couples.” She shrugged. “I can pretty much guarantee that you’ll have your toy review blog for as long as you want it. But that’s not all.”
Gwen tossed a balled-up napkin at her sister. “Okay, who else did you buy?”
“You know that acquisition I told you about when I got back from San Francisco? That was a new media company, too. They’ve got half a dozen sites with half a dozen more due to launch shortly, including a new political celebrity gossip rag called Pop-litico.”
“Lawson’s baby,” I said, my smile getting wider.
“That’s right,” Ricki said, folding her arms. “Apparently I am Price Lawson’s boss now, too. So I think if I want to dissuade him from writing about us, I have the leverage to do that. But we do still have the Schmitt problem. Lawson was unfortunately correct that he’s a huge donor to Purity Values causes, which is one of the reasons his wife has had enough. And so have I. We’ll have to be careful about what we feed to Lawson, but if we’re going public with the club that’ll be our spin to control.”
“Oooh.” Gwen clapped her hands. “Have you thought about this? We could have our own brand of sex toys. The Governor’s Club brand.”
“They’d have to be better than the gray ones everywhere now,” I said. Chino shook his head and I assumed it was because of how terrible those toys were. “We could start filming the vlog here instead of in my bathtub!”
“Yes! And you could have more guests!” she enthused.
“Would now be a good time to tell you I’ve already had a preliminary talk with Showtime about providing them with some women-focused sexuality content?” Ricki added. “Your toy reviews could cross over to the mainstream, Maddie. If you were interested. I know you said at one point you’d rather be a journalist.”
I had one hand on the firm warmth of Chino’s chest and I could feel his heart starting to hammer. Was he as excited about all this as I was? “Honestly, Ricki, journalism just isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. But what would really interest me is getting involved with your domestic violence education charity.” I looked at Chino. He hadn’t said a word through the entire exchange since Ricki had brought up the subject of going public. “After all, it hits really close to home.”
He dropped his gaze with a slight shake of his head. I took that to mean he wasn’t ready to tell the guys about his mother yet and I was about to try to change the subject when Gwen blurted out, “Chino, do you know when your mother’s arriving?”
He winced, looking back and forth between Mal and Axel. “No. It’s tricky to communicate with her. We’re trying to get her and my sister plane tickets, prepaid credit cards, whatever it’ll take to get them out of there.”
Axel looked serious for the first time that night. “Your mother’s in…a bad situation?”
Chino nodded.
Mal stood, his long dark hair curtaining his frown. “Where is she? Is there a reason we cannot spirit her away?”
“Border of Michigan and Ohio,” Chino said. “And we’d stand out like sore thumbs there. It’s a small community, everyone knows each other, and if we tip him off that we’re trying to help her get away, he might hurt her. Might hurt them both. Who knows.”
“Chino’s sister is trying to get them both out of there,” I explained. “She’s got a little more freedom and we’re depending on her.”
“Please, Chino, Maddie, let us know if we can help in any way,” Ricki said. “When they flee where are they going to go?”
“I’m trying to convince them to come to Los Angeles,” Chino said somberly.
“Why don’t they stay here? We’ve only got twenty bedrooms not in use,” Ricki said.
“Ten,” Gwen corrected. “Don’t exaggerate.”
“It would be nicer than your place,” I said to Chino. “That isn’t a great neighborhood and I don’t know how safe they’ll feel there.”
“I can’t impose on you like this,” Chino said.
Ricki and Gwen laughed. “Impose,” Ricki insisted. “We need something for the staff to do. Mina loves it when there are houseguests. And there’s always, always someone here.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Chino said, his brow still wrinkled with worry. “One thing at a time. Still have to get them here.”
“Plus now
we’ve got a great divorce lawyer on call,” Gwen added.
“All right,” Ricki said, like she was finishing a business meeting. “Are we decided, then, that we’re all right with going public?”
“Aye,” Axel said, raising his hand and looking around. Everyone else raised their hands, too.
Except Chino. He tightened his arms around my waist.
“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “You guys. I just can’t. My mother’s fleeing a batterer and I’m going to be on Showtime showing off how I like to hit my lover with studded leather? I can’t. I can’t do it.”
“Chino,” I said softly. Just his name.
“No, Maddie. I can’t. Don’t make me choose between what’s best for her and what’s best for all of you.” He got to his feet and deposited me back in the chair. “I can’t.”
* * *
CHINO
They let me walk away, to stew with my thoughts on the dark garden path on the far side of the pool. I think Axel and Mal held Madison back from running after me. They knew I needed a little time, a little space, I guess, or I wouldn’t have walked away.
You ever have voices in your head screaming at you so loud you can’t even tell what they’re screaming at you to do? That’s what it felt like right then, like the roar of multiple tornadoes trying to pull me in different directions. Madison, my mother, Ricki’s media empire, Flora, our manager Christina—it was like I could hear them all screaming at each other about what was right, what was wrong, and what the hell I was going to do about it. I normally wasn’t an all-things-to-all-people kind of guy. I was only good at being one thing: me. But somehow there I was, caught in the middle of everyone’s needs.