The event planners would love for it to take place in Berkely Church because there was something very naughty about the juxtaposition of a sinful S&M party in a church. Throughout the venue would be various “sin” themes carried out, each representing one of the Seven Deadly Sins: Gluttony would be the bar; Vanity would be the make-up stations; Wrath would be the dominatrix bartenders and waitresses; Envy would be the runway fashion show; Lust would be the topless male models serving martinis and sushi; Greed would be the generous swag bags; and Sloth would be the massage stations. I knew Caden would love it.
As the successful party planning progressed, so did Caden’s approval of me. I had come up with the idea to have a “Where is the Gi-Spot?” teaser campaign directed at local media, socialites, celebrities and Gisele. Greatly amused at how naughty I was, Caden had given the go-ahead to send the invitations out immediately. It was thrilling to get Caden’s encouraging emails and supportive smiles at the coffee bar. It was obvious that he was flirting with me. Sydney refused to give the topic the time of day but if Stevie were around, I was sure he’d agree. And I didn’t have to get a boob job or dress like a high end escort!
“How’s Britney?” I dared to ask Caden at the coffee bar one day.
“Great girl, but we’re not together any more,” he smiled.
“That’s too bad,” I said, wildly celebrating inwardly. Sydney yanked my arm disapprovingly as I blushed and smiled shyly.
Feeling particularly daring and confident one day in my sexy librarian garb, I stopped by Caden’s office to deliver non-critical news of additional editorial coverage I secured for the Gi-Spot launch. The door was closed. I hesitated to knock and decided against it. Just as I was turning away, the door opened to reveal Chloe. Suddenly and unwittingly face to face, we glowered momentarily at one another and stopped only when Caden came up behind Chloe and greeted me like a long lost friend, or as I liked to think, lover.
“Veronica! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Chloe remained trapped between us and I was only too happy to force her to listen to my good news and ensuing praise.
“I have some great news that I wanted to share with you! The beauty editors hadn’t yet received the Gi-Spot products but no worries – I called my US counterparts and had the products shipped overnight. I just got word that Gi-Spot will receive coverage in the next issue of Fashion, Flare and Elle Canada!”
Chloe’s face had gone from glowering to white. She looked like she wanted to bolt for the hills and drag me behind her by the hair.
Caden looked confused. “That’s strange. Chloe had confirmed that coverage weeks ago. Are you sure it’s for Gi-Spot?”
Chloe remained silent and tense, glaring at me.
“Yeah, it was a huge crisis this week when the agency realized the products hadn’t been sent so I got pulled in to help out,” I replied. I saw Chloe’s bitter, shamed expression and it suddenly hit me what had happened. Chloe had forgotten to send the products and had lied to Caden when she confirmed the editorial coverage. Despite my keen dislike for Chloe, I was mortified. It was not my style to throw my colleagues under the bus.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” I said with genuine apology to Chloe. Her eyes burned like a vampire’s as she pushed past me.
I was truly horrified as I was left standing uncomfortably in front of Caden.
“Thanks Veronica. Anything else?” he asked, gracious in his attempt to cover up my humiliation.
I shook my head. “I think you’re going to love the presentation tomorrow.”
“With you in charge, I know I will,” he replied softly.
With all my work drama, I was unable to help out with the party planning for Calista’s congratulations party. Now I knew how annoying I was when I was planning our outing to see Carpenter Boy’s band. Maybe my girls had just put it off until the last minute or maybe they were closet party planning monsters, relentlessly contacting me for input and ideas. One would have thought this was Calista’s Sweet 16 party on MTV. Calista would have been just as happy if her closest friends got together at our favourite pub. I knew they thought I was blowing them off by replying I was good with whatever they decided and to go ahead planning without me. But didn’t they know I was busy during the week? I just wanted them to tell me what to bring.
Lindsay was particularly disappointed that I didn’t want to ask Carpenter Boy’s band to play at Calista’s party. Maybe I would have humiliated myself again if it were U2, but I saw through it as Lindsay’s last feeble attempt to try and set me up with her carpenter fantasy.
The bash was held Saturday night in the party room of Jackie’s downtown condo. It was certainly festively decorated, although I was surprised that a few decorations had consumed so much time. When I saw the spread of food, I realized that Lindsay prepared many of the hors d’oeuvres herself. For the first time, I felt a slight pang of guilt that my job prevented me from helping out. However, with Jackie in charge of alcohol tonight, my girls would shortly forgive me. There was a DJ setting up, probably one of Jackie’s “friends”.
I arrived late because I had been working all day and had dedicated a considerable amount of timing preparing myself to look fabulous to wow the friends I hadn’t seen in awhile with my glamourous new job and exciting lifestyle. Apparently all the preparation was for nought. Perhaps I was out of touch with my friends longer than I thought but I didn’t recognize anyone. I walked through the sparse groups of people, trying to pick out a familiar face.
“Am I just old and prudish, or are Lady Gaga’s videos disturbing?” I heard one person ask.
“No, you’re not old, just a prude,” her friend confirmed.
“Who are these people?” I asked Jackie. I found her in the first placed I looked, making drinks at the bar.
“They’re Calista’s friends from her PhD program. Interesting crowd.” she responded diplomatically as she made me a gin and tonic.
“Drink up,” she winked as she slid the tumbler across the bar towards me.
I coughed when I realized I was drinking straight gin. “Did you put any tonic in this?”
“You’re late. You need to catch up.” And with that she poured us shots.
“Where’s the fashion show?” Lindsay asked as she approached us. The question was directed at my outfit and if I wasn’t mistaken, may have had as heavy a dose of sarcasm as the gin in my drink. Perhaps I was a little over dressed in my flouncy, strapless mini-dress and platform pumps, I speculated as I surveyed the crowd. Economists dress really boring.
“Thanks,” I responded. “Hey Jackie, Lindsay missed the shots, another round of shots for the ladies!”
“Uh, maybe you should have a glass of water instead,” Lindsay said, looking at my two empty glasses consumed in just the first few minutes of my arrival. “Have you had a chance to eat dinner? Maybe you should fill up on hors d’oeuvres. By the way, you paid for all the food.”
“Yeah dude, this isn’t a frosh party,” Jackie said as she poured us shots. “Have a little class.”
I smiled approvingly at Jackie’s “classy” shots. I’m going to need a few drinks to stomach this crowd.
“Are you still pissed off about Carpenter Boy?” I asked Lindsay.
“No, I’m disappointed again that you always put your stupid job ahead of your best friends,” Lindsay answered.
“Wow, that’s a harsh statement,” I said. “And completely unfair.”
“Ladies, let’s not argue on Calista’s special night,” Jackie interrupted. “Speaking of which, the party girl’s coming. Another round of shots for Calista!”
The crowd started to pick up, or maybe it was the multiple other shots that made it more palatable. I don’t remember who I met but I do remember that I definitely have the coolest job. I also vaguely recall Lindsay trying to silence me physically a number of times. I may have been yelling to people about my Gi-Spot and introducing myself as a professional sex party planner. I’m pretty sure Jackie called
me a cab and let Lindsay drag me out of the party when I started yelling that I was at the top of The Tracker and harassing the men into declaring that I was the hottest girl at the party.
I was severely hung over the morning after. Embarrassing remnants of the night passed over me like nausea. I don’t know what made me want to puke more – the hangover or the embarrassment. I dragged my sorry disheveled ass out of bed at noon to buy Pepto Bismol and Gatorade from the corner store. I was unshowered, wearing dirty jeans and a ratty T-shirt, my hair in a sloppy ponytail.
“Hung over?” the cashier asked me when he saw my purchases.
No shit.
“No.” Bitter in my hungover state, I didn’t want to grant the inappropriate cashier the benefit of being right.
And of course, the karmic gods were pissing their pants laughing as I ran into Carpenter Boy in the elevator, hugging my hangover remedies close to my chest, trying not to shake from the exertion of standing up vertically. I couldn’t remember the last time I looked or felt this revolting. Luckily I had managed to avoid him until now, thanks to my obscure schedule. But what better time to bump into him than when we were in a closed space. All the better to smell the stench of last night’s alcohol leaking from my pores.
“Rough night?” he asked.
“Uh…yeah,” I replied head down, leaning against the elevator wall, praying that I would make it to my condo without puking.
“You know what the best hangover remedy is?” he asked. I forced myself to lift my head and look up at him pathetically. “A beer!”
I winced.
“Just kidding, bad joke. Seriously, a banana milk shake with a little honey. Best remedy.”
“Banana milkshake?” Just saying those words made me want to projectile hurl. “That’s disgusting.” Almost as disgusting as me right now. This elevator ride was taking forever.
“It works – I swear.”
“I would puke. But thanks.” The elevator doors finally opened and I bolted as quickly as my incapacitated body would allow me.
“Wanna borrow some bananas? Last call,” he asked as he kept pace with my slow, pained hobble. I couldn’t tell whether he was mocking me.
I shook my head and barely made it into my condo before I dry-heaved glamourously into the bathroom sink. I was not a hot girl right now.
There were a couple of text messages on my phone that morning. One was from Lindsay that said “WTF?” and another one from Jackie asking me what the hell my obsession with hot girls was. Her follow-up message was “btw: so not hot.” Nothing from Calista.
The rest of the day was a total write off. I was planning on spending Sunday at the office trying to get caught up on work but instead spent the day hydrating myself and miserably hoping the hangover would pass. But alas, it was a full day punishment. Nor did the shame pass. I couldn’t bring myself to apologize to Calista that day. I thought a text would be tacky and talking was still as painful as thinking about a banana milkshake. Calista called in the evening but I convinced myself that it was OK not to answer. She would understand. After I make up big time for my childish and selfish behaviour. I was awful – I didn’t even remember congratulating her that night. Come to think of it, I may have bitched to her about cancer and animal abuse for awhile. She didn’t leave a message.
When I was able to sit upright in bed without feeling nauseous, I googled hangover remedies. Hey, what do you know? Banana milkshake with honey was right up there. Carpenter Boy wasn’t f’ing with me after all. I googled friend remedies, thinking that I might need it soon. Despite the hundreds of suggestions for hangover remedies, oddly enough there was nothing specifically dedicated to friend remedies. This one I’d have to figure out on my own.
Chapter 16: Naughty Girl
The event planning agency did a spectacular job at presenting the event and bringing the sinful themes to life with a multi-media extravaganza. They had dressed up in S&M outfits and tripped over one another to seduce Caden. Sure enough, Caden was delighted with everything, calling me his favourite naughty girl, much to the chagrin of the S&M-garbed event planners. I could tell from the envy in their eyes that they wanted to whip me with their black patent leather whips.
“It’s all yours,” he said to me. I saw the event planners purse their scarlet-stained lips. Their shiny patent leather outfits squeaked as they shifted with displeasure.
“I have to give full credit to the agency for their hard work and creativity.” I said. I did not want to compromise my relationship with them. One Chloe in my life was all I could deal with.
“Absolutely, you’ve all done a tremendous job. I couldn’t be happier,” Caden flashed a smile at the S&M ladies and they swooned as much as their stiff leather cat suits would allow. “What I meant was the Gi-Spot product launch. Veronica, it’s all yours.”
“But…hasn’t Chloe been working on the launch for the last year? I hate to take it from her now when it’s practically done.” I can just imagine what hell I would get from Chloe now that I’ve fully stolen her Gi-Spot from her.
“Ah, there’s been a few bumps in the road and you’re just the person to smooth it out. Chloe has moved on to her next project. Besides, it would be nice to see more of you,” he winked, sealing the deal.
“OK,” I gushed, before realizing that I had just signed up for an unreasonable shitload more work and the wrath of Chloe.
I hoped that Caden had cleared his abundant use of my time and energy with Savannah. I knew the news that she wasn’t the centre of my universe wouldn’t go over well with her. Perhaps I could quell her wrath with my brilliant marketing idea. I usually never approached Savannah unless I’ve cleared it with her admin and confirmed that she was in a relatively non-abusive mood. However, on a whim, I decided to stop by Savanna’s office unannounced. I was still on a high from Caden’s approval of my naughtiness and desire to see more of it. I might as well continue the momentum.
I was standing outside Savannah’s office, silently psyching myself up when I heard a strange and unusual sound coming from inside her office. Usually the sound of crying was preceded by Savannah’s wild shrieks. However, the office was eerily quiet except for the sound of weeping. Before I could stop myself, I peered around the doorway to confirm the impossible. Did Savannah actually have feelings other than anger, boredom and disdain?
“Are you OK?” I asked, surprised by how genuinely concerned I sounded.
“Gucci is sick,” she blurted as she delicately dabbed at her red, swollen eyes with a tissue. It looked like she had been crying for awhile.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were that close with the designer.”
“No, no, Gucci’s my dog,” she gestured, tears running down her face, at a framed photo beside her computer of a Pomeranian in a fluffy sweater and diamond collar. “Little G,” she added with a whimper.
“He’s so cute! I hope he’s going to be OK.”
“She.” Savannah corrected. Of course, a bitch would have a bitch as a pet.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she continued. “Gucci’s barely eating and has no energy. I’ve been monitoring her behaviour and tracking it in several charts.” She showed me several line and bar graphs indicating Gucci’s water and food consumption and sleep patterns on an hourly basis. “My vet told me to relax and just wait and see. Is he crazy? I can’t relax!”
“I’m sure she’s fine but why don’t you get a second opinion? It might make you feel better. My parents have a great vet that does house calls.” My parents are alarmingly obsessed with their miniature poodle and had rejected countless vets before entrusting their current vet with the health of their baby. I knew that Savannah would expect nothing less than the obsessive-compulsive choice of my parents.
Savannah looked perplexed that she had not thought of the obvious. “Well, I’m desperate so I guess I could try that. Can you please leave? I’m having a little bit of a private moment.”
As I gingerly excused myself, I noticed that the Medusa sn
akes were gone.
I had been deeply dreading my transition meeting with Chloe and almost considered passing on it but Caden had arranged the meeting to ensure that all necessary transitions would happen. In fact, strangely enough, he had the meeting with the three of us in his office, as if he knew that he would need to arbitrate.
We were seated silently outside his office, waiting for his previous meeting to end. I could feel the hostility emanating from Chloe. As nasty a person as she was, it still deeply bothered me that she hated me.
“I’m sorry,” I finally ventured to say. “I didn’t ask for this. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not going to have a life or very much sleep until this launches.”
“Whatever,” she replied, looking stonily ahead. “Too bad you can’t run to Stevie to solve all your problems. Are you sad that he’s crashing and burning? I give him two weeks before he’s fired.”
“Stevie’s not crashing and burning,” I protested in fierce defense.
Chloe made a face to indicate she was in complete disagreement with my statement.
“I know you’re mad at me, but please don’t take this out on Stevie,” I said.
“You’re taking everything away from me. And now you think that you can take Caden.”
I felt my chest burn. “Caden’s not yours. He’s your boss.”
“I don’t even know why I’m here if he thinks you’re so perfect. You can figure it out without my transition.” And with that, Chloe got up and walked away. I sat surprised and confused for a few moments until Caden opened his door.
“Where’s Chloe?” he asked.
Why I Love My Gay Boyfriend Page 13
