by J. J. Murray
“It is nothing,” Mr. Biancardi said. “How did Patrizio look?”
“Like you,” Lauren said. “Only taller and broader.”
“So he looked handsome,” Mr. Biancardi said. “I am glad.”
“It cost so much,” Lauren said.
“It is my wedding gift to you,” Mr. Biancardi said, “and if Patrizio has a problem with it, you send him straight to me, and I will straighten him out.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t have a problem with it,” Lauren said. “That suit and that coat were made for him.”
Back at the apartment, Lauren moved all the new lights into the kitchen.
“What are you planning, Cinderella?” Patrick asked.
“You clean up nicely, Prince Charming,” Lauren said, “but I’m much more attracted to you when you’re dressed down or undressed.” She set her phone on the floor. “We’re going to make a movie.”
“That explains all the lights,” Patrick said. “Is there a script?”
“No,” Lauren said.
“What about costuming?” Patrick asked.
“We are both going to wear coveralls and nothing else,” Lauren said.
“Sounds drafty,” Patrick said. “What’s my motivation?”
Lauren laughed. “You’re taking all this too seriously.”
“Come on, Lauren,” Patrick said. “This is a fantasy come true. This is my first scene in a movie with you. I don’t want to mess it up.”
“You won’t,” Lauren said. “Your motivation is to make me come loudly.”
“I can do that,” Patrick said.
“I am going to fix something under the sink,” Lauren said, “and I want you to assist me. Go to wardrobe now.”
Patrick quickly disrobed and put on his coveralls while Lauren did the same. “Is this going to be a bad love scene or a porno this time?”
Lauren loosened the straps on her coveralls so more of her breasts would show. “Oh, definitely porno this time.” She knelt in front of the kitchen cabinet and adjusted the film settings on her phone. “This will have to be a quick scene. I only have five minutes of memory at most, so talk and perform fast.” She turned on her phone and put her hand behind her. “Hand me your tool, Mr. Handyman.”
She heard an unzipping sound and felt the full weight of Patrick’s penis in her hand.
“Is this the right tool?” Patrick asked.
“Oh yes,” Lauren said, stroking him. “It might be too large to fix my hole, though.” She let go of his penis and unzipped herself. “I just need some lubrication.” She slipped her hand through the opening and began fingering herself rapidly. “I am getting so hot. You need to cool me off.”
Patrick unbuttoned her straps and pulled her coveralls down to her ankles. “Will a wet tongue cool you off?”
“Oh yes.”
Lauren felt Patrick’s hot tongue licking her from the back of her neck down to her clitoris. Lauren took the clothespin from a pocket and waved it behind her. “Clip this to a nipple.”
“Are you sure?” Patrick asked.
“No,” Lauren said in a small voice.
“Maybe you should do it,” Patrick said.
Lauren turned the clothespin sideways and clipped it to her right nipple, exquisite pain shooting through her entire breast. She grimaced for the camera. “Put your tool inside me now.” She felt his penis filling her completely. “Now pull my hair.”
Patrick pulled gently on her hair.
“Harder,” Lauren said.
Patrick yanked hard on Lauren’s hair.
I should have no worry lines on my forehead now. “Turn me over.”
Patrick lifted her off the floor and spun her around, pulling her feet up to his ears.
Lauren picked up her phone and aimed it at her breasts, the clothespin bouncing as Patrick resumed pumping.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Patrick asked.
Lauren unclipped the clothespin and clamped it vertically to her left nipple. “Yes. Very. I like you doing me on the floor, Mr. Handyman.”
He began pumping furiously. “You’re going to have tile print on your booty.”
“Oh, God, I hope so.” She wedged the phone between her chin and collarbone. “Give me that tool, Mr. Handyman!”
Patrick laughed. “I’m plugging up all your leaks!”
Lauren closed her eyes. “Plug away,” she whispered. “Don’t stop until a ‘damn’ bursts out of my mouth. . . .”
Oh, damn. Here I come....
63
During the second week of January, on the afternoon of the People’s Choice Awards show, Patrick and Lauren flew out of JFK without a single member of the media noticing.
“They’re all in LA sucking up to the real celebrities,” Lauren said as they boarded the plane without incident or flash through the separate coach entrance.
Fellow coach passengers and the crew, however, noticed and applauded as they took their seats.
“Why are they clapping?” Patrick whispered.
“Well, it might be because we’re dressed to the nines as Cinderella and Prince Charming,” Lauren said. She carefully centered the gown on her knees. “I told you it would be easier to go dressed, and look at the response from our fans.”
“Your gown might get wrinkled,” Patrick said.
“It’s pleated,” Lauren said. “No one will notice.”
After posing for several pictures and signing a few autographs, they watched Access Hollywood on Lauren’s phone while the plane sat at the gate because of some malfunction. The first story brought Cinderella and Prince Charming crashing back to earth.
Laura Saltman, the “Dish of Salt,” asked Chazz, “How broken up are you over Lauren’s sudden marriage to a Brooklyn handyman? And be honest, Chazz.”
“Not much, Laura,” Chazz said. “Really. Lauren Short—and I refuse to say her married name, because she won’t have it for long—Lauren Short never treated me like a man. Lauren always came up short.” He grinned. “I tried to teach her how to keep a man satisfied, but she wasn’t a very good student, if you know what I mean.”
Lauren gripped the phone so tightly the case cracked. Patrick gently removed the phone from her hand.
“But you were together for seven years, Chazz,” Laura continued. “You should have taught her something.”
“Evidently,” Chazz said, “some people are just unteachable.”
Patrick wisely turned off the phone.
“Unteachable is not a word, you jerk!” Lauren hissed. “Oh, this is the last straw! Telling the world I didn’t satisfy him! Oh, I can’t wait to tell the world the truth!” Lauren rose up in her seat and saw that many passengers were staring at her. “Oh, sorry about that.” Go back to what you were doing while I burst a blood vessel in my brain!
“I’ll take care of it,” Patrick whispered.
“I should do it,” Lauren whispered.
“Your mama would agree with me,” Patrick whispered.
“Let’s find out.” She turned on her phone. After dialing the number, she sat back and tried to breathe normally.
She did not succeed.
“Mama, did you hear what Chazz is saying about me now?” Lauren asked. “Did you watch Access Hollywood tonight?”
“I never watch that show,” Pamela said. “What’s he saying now?”
“Basically that I never learned how to satisfy him sexually,” Lauren whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” Pamela asked.
“I’m on a crowded airplane, Mama,” Lauren whispered.
“What do you think I should do?”
“Nothing,” Pamela said. “His lies will catch up to him soon enough.”
“Mama, millions of people believe those lies,” Lauren said.
“Then those millions of people will feel especially foolish when the truth comes out,” Pamela said. “Chazz has always been an overgrown child. Don’t act like a child in response.”
“So you want me to do nothing?” Lauren asked.
“Yes,” Pamela said. “And in your case, the more nothing the better. Stay calm and don’t start anything tonight. I will be watching.”
“Bye, Mama.” She hung up. Thanks for nothing, which is what she wants me to do. “She was no help. We need to call Papa.”
“Why?” Patrick asked.
“He’ll know what to do,” Lauren said. She dialed Biancardi’s. “Let me speak to Patrizio.”
Patrick held out his hand. “I’ll speak to him.”
Lauren sighed and put the phone in his hand. “Make sure you tell him everything.”
“I will.” He put the phone to his ear. “Papa . . . ? Yes, I’m on the plane.... No, we’re still on the ground . . . Have you heard what Chazz—” Patrick covered the mouthpiece. “He’s heard. He’s cursing in Italian now.” He uncovered the mouthpiece. “No, don’t get on an airplane, Papa.... You’re not allowed to leave the Bronx. . . . What would you do if you were standing in front of him?” Patrick widened his eyes. “Um, isn’t that illegal? I know you know some guys, Papa, but—” He shook his head. “I know Lauren’s honor is at stake. That’s why I called you. What would you do that doesn’t involve ‘some guys’ and a Louisville Slugger?”
That’s what I’m talking about, Lauren thought.
“He might need them to walk, Papa,” Patrick said. “I’ll think of something. Make sure everyone at Biancardi’s watches, okay? All right. See you soon.” He ended the call. “That went about like I expected it to.”
“He wants to take a baseball bat to Chazz’s kneecaps, doesn’t he?” Lauren asked.
“Worse,” Patrick said. “He wants to cut both of Chucky’s Achilles tendons.”
Yes! “Well, I don’t intend to be civil when we get there,” Lauren said. “Chazz cannot slander me without penalty.” She put her lips on Patrick’s ear and whispered, “I am an astonishing lover.”
“You are,” Patrick said. “But I got this.”
“You don’t know him like I do,” Lauren said. “It’s only going to get worse. The next time he talks about me, he’ll turn me into a lesbian.”
“I’ve known people like him,” Patrick said. “When they’re backed into a corner, they wilt. He’s a coward.”
Lauren looked at her fingers. “I wish I had longer nails.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Patrick said. “Relax. Enjoy the ride.”
“What ride?” Lauren asked. “We’re not moving!”
“Patience,” Patrick said.
“What are you going to do?” Lauren asked.
“You’ll see,” Patrick said. “I got this.”
“Tell me,” Lauren whispered.
“Trust me,” Patrick said. He squeezed her hand. “I’ve been waiting for the right moment, and tonight is the right moment.”
“What are you going to say to him?” Lauren asked.
“You’ll see,” Patrick said. “Now please relax. We’re on a date to LA, and we’re dressed like royalty. We should be enjoying ourselves, right?”
Lauren nodded. “If you give me a sneak preview of what you’re going to say, I might settle down more quickly.”
“I know,” Patrick said.
“Don’t you want me to settle down?” Lauren asked.
“Yes,” Patrick said.
“Then tell me something,” Lauren said.
“Okay,” Patrick said. “I am going to . . .”
“What?”
Patrick kissed her forehead. “I’m going to keep you in suspense. Please trust me.”
“I guess I don’t have any other choice,” Lauren said.
After cuddling for most of a five-hour flight, when they arrived at LAX and left the terminal, they chose a bright pink Yellow Cab SUV to be their carriage.
The driver did a double take when they climbed into the backseat. “Lauren Short?”
Lauren didn’t correct him. “The Nokia Theatre, please.”
“Um, that’s a no-drive zone tonight,” the driver said. “It’ll be limousine city.”
“We know,” Lauren said. “But think of the publicity you’ll get. A bright pink cab alone in that sea of black-and-white limousines.”
“I don’t know if the cops will even let me get near the place,” the driver said.
“Well, if they won’t,” Lauren said, “we don’t mind walking. We’re already running late, and the show starts in ninety minutes. Get us as close as you can as fast as you can.”
The driver sped away and avoided the freeways, taking a zigzag route that eventually put them on South Figueroa where he crept through heavy traffic as far as West Twelfth Street in the shadow of Staples Center.
“It’s blocked off from here,” the driver said, pointing at the wooden barricades ahead. “There’s no way I can get closer.”
A police officer waved them toward West Twelfth.
Lauren rolled down her window. “Excuse me,” she said sweetly, “we have to get to the Nokia Theatre.”
The officer walked over. “Not a chance tonight, not from here.” He squinted at her. “Lauren Short?”
“Hello,” Lauren said.
The officer peered into the cab. “Why aren’t you in a limo?”
“I can make a more unique entrance in this vehicle, don’t you think?” she asked.
“You’ll sure stand out.” He clicked on his microphone. “One pink cab coming through.”
Two officers removed one of the barricades.
“Thank you so much,” Lauren said. “Come on. Let’s go!”
The driver eventually merged between a black limousine and a white limousine then stopped abruptly at the curb as a swarm of photographers began snapping away.
Patrick paid the driver double the fare. “We need to get back to the airport right after the show. Can we call you to come pick us up?”
The driver shrugged. “They might not let me in again, so I’ll just find a space here and wait for you.”
“Thank you,” Lauren said.
Patrick opened his door, stepped out, and stretched his hand inside. “Are you ready, Cinderella?”
Lauren gripped his hand tightly and stepped out of the cab. “Why, yes, kind prince.”
They sauntered down the red carpet through a blitzkrieg of flashbulbs as reporters peppered them with questions.
“Lauren, is it true you’re getting a divorce?”
“Patrick, how does it feel to have the worst beard in show business?”
“Lauren, have you called Chazz for your New Year’s date yet?”
“Couldn’t you afford a limo?”
“Lauren, is it true that you don’t know how to satisfy a man?”
“Patrick, does Lauren satisfy you?”
Lauren raised her eyebrows at Patrick.
“Not yet,” Patrick said.
They posed for official photos in front of a People’s Choice Awards sign, CBS logos in abundance.
“I thought I was getting used to all this,” Patrick said,
“but I’m not. I have led an anonymous existence for so long that it is crazy that people are even noticing me.”
Lauren smiled broadly as the flashes continued. “You look fantastic.”
“Thank you,” Patrick said, “but I still feel out of place. These people aren’t looking at me. They’re staring at me.”
“Because you’re so handsome,” Lauren said.
“They gaze in awe at you,” Patrick said. “They gawk at me. I feel like an animal at the zoo, and they’re just waiting for me to entertain them, even though I don’t know any tricks.”
“Yes, you do,” Lauren whispered, biting her lip.
“Well, I know a few tricks,” Patrick said.
Their official pictures finished, they moved along the red carpet through a gauntlet of reporters on either side. This is like a cattle drive, Lauren thought. Only the cattle here wear ten-thousand-dollar dresses and suits.
“What do you think about what Chazz said, Patrick?”
“Chazz called you out, Patr
ick. What are you going to do?”
“Are you shaving off your beard soon?”
“How could you afford that dress and that suit, Patrick?”
“Did Mafia money pay for your outfits?”
“How long have you had sexual difficulties, Lauren?”
Lauren turned sharply to Patrick. “I have to say something!” she whispered tersely.
“Not yet,” Patrick said.
“But you can set them straight about my abilities,” Lauren whispered.
“That’s none of their business,” Patrick said. “I’d much rather go to the source of the problem, and he’s inside. I work better one-on-one.”
“Yes, you do, but . . .”
He dipped her nearly to the ground and kissed her deeply. “Trust me.”
That was a great kiss. Whoo. “Are you trying to shut me up?”
“Yes,” Patrick said.
Lauren saw a massive black man in a tux outside the entrance. “Before we go in, we have to answer André’s questions. It’s a tradition. He’s Entertainment Tonight’s regular red carpet reporter, and he is usually kind to me.”
They approached André, Lauren smiling brightly. “It’s been a long time,” she said.
André didn’t smile. “Lauren, what can you say to our viewers concerning the recent controversy about your abrupt breakup and hasty marriage?”
That isn’t the worst question he could have asked, but still. “What controversy? I fell in love with Patrick, and I am extremely happy. There’s nothing controversial about true love.”
“Even if most people don’t agree with your choice of man?” André asked.
That was low. She smiled her most dazzling smile. “Oh, but, André, have you asked most people this question?”
André took a breath. “Well, no.”
“Then how do you know that most people don’t agree with my choice?” Lauren asked.
André took another breath. “Some people disagree.”
Though I could, I can’t afford to make him look too bad. He has a lot of followers. “André, many women want a man who’s handy, while others want a man who’s all man. People are just jealous that I . . . have . . . both.” She kissed Patrick’s cheek. “It was good to see you again.” She took Patrick’s hand and led him briskly inside the entrance door. “Do you mind if I gawk at you tonight?” she whispered.