by Avery Aster
“Espresso?” Massimo smiled then looked at her belly. “Wait, the baby can’t have caffeine.”
“Chamomile tea with lemon.” She noticed the time. “Vive and Taddy will be here soon. I’m going to get in the shower.”
She went into the bathroom and undressed. Her best friend had texted her a few more times the night before, worried about the wedding. She didn’t have a clue what was really going on with her. And how would she? What she couldn’t figure out was why Vive’s behavior was growing increasingly erratic. Blake was skittish enough as it was about being in the wedding. She sure as hell didn’t need her getting all maidzilla. The Easton Essential showroom manager had told Massimo that Vive had come in to try the dress on with a bad attitude, cussing up a storm, anti-wedding this and anti-wedding that. Aside from embarrassing herself, she’d hurt Lex’s feelings.
At first, the showroom manager thought Vive was just plain rude until she found her passed out in one of the dressing rooms, wasted.
An hour later, Lex opened the foyer’s French doors, seeing Taddy smiling and Vive frowning.
Massimo and Jemma were in the kitchen. Miguel and Blake had just left with M2 for the day. The Poppy White Show preparations were full steam ahead.
“Morning, Easton.” Not making eye contact, Vive strutted in right past her and plopped Hedda on the white carpeting.
“Hi, Viveca.” She addressed her by her full name when she was pissed off, and she was. Why Vive couldn’t have come earlier, alone, was anyone’s guess.
“Taddy.” She hugged her friend who always smelled of tuberose.
“I’m wearing silk. Don’t squeeze me so tight, I’ll wrinkle.” She let go of Lex and stepped through the entryway. Her long, ginger hair was pulled up by her oversized sunglasses. A pair Lex had purchased for her when they were shopping while in St. Barth last winter. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. As I told you two in my texts, I’m A-Okay.”
Typical Vive, she fixed herself a cocktail at the bar on the far side of the living room. The dog followed her, as best as she could; Hedda couldn’t see, but got around okay.
“Can you please wait ‘til after we’re done taping to get trashed?” Lex inhaled deeply through her mouth and then tried to force a smile. She wasn’t kidding.
“No, I can’t. I’m stressed out as it is. I need a bloody Mary, or two, to take this edge off.” Vive filled up a glass with ice from the mini fridge. The cubes clinked loudly against the crystal.
“Please, Vive, prep me on this interview.” She hoped to win her over, put her in a good mood, make her feel important and part of the wedding process. Was that what bothered her friend? Did she feel left out?
“Taddy has the preliminary questions. It’s mostly about who’s in the wedding party, what we’re wearing, your music selection, the usual bridal mumbo-jumbo.”
“Right, of course.” Lex motioned Taddy over and whispered in her ear, “What’s with her?” It saddened her to see their friend acting up. She thought back over the week. Had she done anything to tick Vive off? Not that she knew of.
“Beats me. She picked up her bridesmaid’s dress yesterday. That’s all I know.” Taddy shrugged.
Lex could usually tell when she fibbed to keep the peace; she wasn’t.
“And?”
“Talk to her.”
“Vive…” She stepped closer, picking up fluffy Hedda and giving her a hug. Lex waved the dog’s dainty paw in Vive’s face and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Why did you ask me over here an hour early?” Unscrewing the blue lid from a Grey Goose bottle, she poured the clear liquid into a glass.
“To talk and catch-up.” Lex didn’t want to state her reasons, not in front of Taddy. She realized she’d have to talk to her best friend directly. Trying to get Vive to weigh in on the matter was a huge mistake.
“My champagne toast is written. I have my plus one. I’m all set.”
“The tomato mixer is in the other fridge.” Lex went to get it for her, giving up on trying to keep Vive sober for today. “Who’s your date?”
“Warner’s brother, Sheldon,” Taddy interjected.
“Studly Sheldon.” Lex thought they’d make a great pair. They both loved booze, sex, and parties. “You two will be a hit.” She handed the mixer to Vive.
Warner and Taddy had been dating for a few years now. Warner was a busy billionaire, but he always made time for Taddy. Sheldon, on the other hand, was trouble. Hot, yummy, fuckable trouble were the words Vive used when anyone mentioned Sheldon Truman.
“Thanks, I’ll drink it straight.” Vive raised her glass in the air and downed it as a shot.
Oh, brother.
“That’s better.” She adjusted her pink lip-gloss. “Lex, I have to ask you something?”
“What?” Confusion irked her. This was supposed to be about her and Taddy. How did Vive’s drama get into this?
“Did you talk to Blake? Did he tell you I didn’t want to be in the wedding? That’s it. Isn’t it? That’s why you wanted me over here so damn early to tell me what a bad friend I am to you.”
“What? No.” She felt slapped across the face.
“Why don’t you want to be in the wedding?” Taddy asked.
“Come off it, Brill, and you do?”
“Yes, of course.” Taddy didn’t waver.
“Why don’t you want to be in my wedding?” Feeling a burning streak down her spine, she folded her arms and tried not to lose it.
“I’m too old for this.”
“Too old?” her BFF repeated.
“To be a bridesmaid. I’m practically thirty, for Christ’s sake.” Vive’s face reddened as her voice became louder. “Isn’t that why you wanted me over here bright and early this morning, to go off on me? I told Blake—”
“No. That’s not it at all.” Lex knew the wedding would be hard for Blake, but she didn’t imagine Vive would be at odds. It didn’t make any sense. “I asked you over so I could talk to you about something else, privately. It’s not important now.” She held her friend’s hand and said, “If you don’t want to be in the wedding, you don’t have to be. Leave.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Go.” Lex dropped her hand slowly, as if it was the last time she’d ever touch her. “You’re not needed here today. You can go get wasted somewhere else.”
“Lex,” Taddy scolded.
Tears glistened on Vive’s striking features. “I didn’t realize the wedding was going to be such a big production. I mean, Saint Patrick’s Cathedral and The Plaza? Jesus Christ. Who are you, Princess Kate?”
“Sort of.” Taddy glared at her. “She is marrying a prince.”
“The dress we have to wear goes to the floor.”
“Most black-tie affairs require gowns as such. You’re a Farnworth. You’ve been to a million of these types of events. Vive, what is wrong with you?”
She put her hands in the air and raised her voice. “This isn’t you, Lex. You used to be so low-key. Ever since you met Massimo, you’ve changed.”
“Well, this is me now. And if you don’t want to see me happy then you don’t have to come at all. Blake, too. The both of you. I’m done.”
Taddy tried to step between them. “Lex doesn’t mean it.”
“Yes, I do. Get out of here, Farnworth!” She’d had it. Lex had heard of brides who lost their cool and fired their maids days prior to the ceremony. God damn, she’d become one of them. “Over the years, I have bent over backwards for you.”
“Who asked you to?”
“You did!” she shouted.
“I have not.”
“Vive, you are delusional.” Her temples pounded. “Who was there when you buried San? Took you to rehab for pill addiction? Helped you sell your magazine?” She slapped her own mouth. Did she really just say all of that, out loud? Oh, no. The second the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. She’d crossed the line.
It took a lot to make Vive cry. Ov
er the years, she’d flown first-class to Hell and back. She choked back the sobs and said, “You, Lex. You will always be the friend I look up to, my role model. But I have news for you, girlie. I’m…not…you. I don’t keep a scorecard. But if we’re tallying up…who was the only girl at Avon Porter who talked to you because you were so fat?”
Lex felt her jaw drop.
“Me. That’s who.”
Vive eyed her up and down, making Lex feel thirteen all over again.
“And who was the only woman in this city who stood by your side privately and publicly when your father whacked himself and you lost everything, including the shirt on your back?”
She still didn’t have a word for her. Vive had never spoken to her like that before.
“Again, it was me.” Vive stepped in her face. Her black pupils swallowed her gray eyes. “And who was the first journalist to give your not-so-special fashion designs a glowing review?”
“Get the fuck outta here, Farnworth!” Lex had heard enough. “I don’t need this shit from you. I don’t need you in my life, Vive.”
“That’s obvious, isn’t it, Princess Tittoni? You have yourself a very special wedding.” With that, her shaking hands picked up Hedda and she stormed out.
Massimo came into the living room, face white as snow at what he had obviously heard. Jemma stood behind him, her mauve, glossy mouth hung open.
“Fuck. I didn’t mean what I said. I just flipped.” Pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, she realized how hard she’d worked over the years to not lose her shit, and she had just blown up all over the place in a monstrous way. “I don’t understand Vive. What’s going on with her?”
“Vive has her good days and not so good days, Lex. You know this.” Taddy put her arms her around her. “Jemma has your designs. I’ve drafted your talking points on index cards.” She pulled the papers out from her Birkin bag and sat them on a nearby end table. “If I know Vive, she’s headed to The Pierre to drink. Can you handle Poppy without me?”
“Go. Be with her. I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”
“Know I’m not taking sides. I’m just nervous Vive might...”
“Me, too.”
The last time Vive hurt herself was when she’d learned the little baby girl she’d been forced by her parents to give up for adoption, the infant she’d always wanted to see again, had no interest in ever meeting her. The adoptive parents had reinforced a closed-adoption policy even as the child grew into her teen years.
She turned, facing Massimo and Jemma. Her wedding seemed frivolous right then. “Can we cancel? Please.”
“Sì. I will call Poppy and tell her no show for today. She will understand.”
“No, I don’t mean the show, Masi.”
“Bella?”
“I want to call off our wedding.”
Stunned, Massimo asked, “Are you sure, bella?”
“I’m sure.”
Lex didn’t see the sense in celebrating without all her friends. If Vive and Blake weren’t happy for her, she wasn’t going to rub their noses in it. From the start, her wedding had been what everyone else wanted. She was over it. Maybe Vive was right. Maybe she was becoming to frou-frou for her own self. Well, not anymore!
Madeline’s High Tea
Upper East Side
Miguel’s expectations of Blake lending a hand babysitting his nieces ranked at about zero. But to his surprise, Ofelia, age four, and Cierra, age six, adored them together.
Blake treated the girls to Madeline’s Tea Room at The Carlisle Hotel, an Art Deco institution on the Upper East Side. M2 slept in the stroller; Ofelia and Cierra were in wonder over the 24-karat gold leaf-covered ceiling. Studying the mural depicting the tales of Madeline’s adventures, the imagery featured illustrations by Ludwig Bemelmans. He pointed to each drawing and educated the girls on the wall’s story. They munched on raisin scones spread with clotted cream and raspberry jam. Miguel never saw his nieces as captivated as this before, let alone eating anything other than cheese pizza.
A pianist, who stirred memories of his late grandmother, played nursery rhymes from Mother Goose. Cierra knew the words and sang along while Ofelia clapped, swaying her shoulders and bumping into Blake, then him, then back to Blake.
“Tío Miggy,” Cierra whispered in his ear, chomping on a pink jellybean which she’d screamed tasted as yummy as a real watermelon. “Me and Ofelia like Blakey.” She popped another candy in her mouth. “He’s fun.”
He grabbed the bag of sweets from her sticky hands. He hoped to have the kids back to his sister before their sugar crash arrived. “I like Blake, too.”
“Tío Miggy?”
“Sí, Cierra?”
“Is he coming to Papá’s for dinner?” she asked as her brown eyes widened with anticipation.
Cierra possessed an inquisitive side. Her intelligence was from her grandfather, his father. He noted how alike they were. His father always asked a lot of questions.
“Blake will be there for dinner.” The fact he’d be coming out to his family was an abdomen-jolt he’d not forgotten. He never thought he’d have the support to come out to his parents—until then.
“Yeah!” Ofelia overheard and cheered on. She reached for his hand and squeezed it.
Her little fingers in his hand reminded him how unconditional love felt. He never wanted to not have his nieces in his life. The girls were so very special to him. He hoped his sister wouldn’t react negatively to his being gay and do something drastic, like not allow him time with the girls.
After tea, they walked to his sister’s condo near the Whitney Museum, returning his nieces to their nanny. They then headed over to Central Park for a walk, pushing M2 in the stroller.
North of the Conservatory Water at East Seventy-Fourth Street, they stood facing Alice in Wonderland. A bronze sculpture featured Miss Alice atop a large mushroom surrounded by the Cheshire cat, Dormouse, Dinah, and the Mad Hatter.
“Ever imagine yourself with kids?” He knew Blake’s response but wanted to ask to be certain.
“Sure, all the time,” Blake answered without any hesitation.
“Really?” He heard his own voice crack. Miguel remembered Blake wanted kids when he was married, but if he was so uncertain about romance a second time around, wouldn’t his desire to be a father change, as well?
“You sound surprised.” Blake slowed his pace to walk in tandem with him. He looked a bit silly with the stroller. He was so tall and uncomfortable with it. “Diego and I were looking into adopting. We both knew our marriage wasn’t going anywhere, though, so we stopped.”
“A boy or a girl? You have a preference?”
“Nope. As long as he, or she, is healthy, that’s all that matters. And you?”
“Same. I’d love to have a baby.” He wanted children. This was his first time articulating it to anyone. Not even Lex or Vive knew. To his revelation, his response came out with natural ease.
“Really?” Blake mimicked the tone he’d heard moments before.
“Don’t be sarcastic.” He pulled Blake into him as they picked up speed, pushing M2 through the park.
“You didn’t strike me as relationship-bound, let alone the fatherly type, ’til today.” Blake grabbed his hand and complimented, “Watching you with your nieces was sweet.”
Honored to be holding his buddy’s hand in public, the sensation felt good, but different for him. His insides tingled with excitement. Guys from Miguel’s past shied away from public affection. Not Blake. In the group, he hugged everyone as he greeted them. His arm at a party held friends’ hips, as he laughed and carried on. It was odd to think that behind closed doors, a man so giving would receive so little. He remained natural at being himself in any setting. Always comfortable with being gay, even effeminate at times, he didn’t hold back. He wasn’t affected, but expressive, and in touch with his emotions. It struck him as refreshing.
“I’ve helped raise the girls since they were born. Inez’s ex-husband lost
custody last year when his money laundering surfaced.”
“I’m sorry. You never talk about your sister’s life. I remember one tiny blurb about it in the Wall Street Journal, but that was it. Lex said you didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t pry.”
“My dad tries to keep us as media-free as possible.”
Unlike the rest of his friends’ families, the Santana’s avoided scandals. Looking back on that statement, he realized it was one of the reasons he’d never come out. He didn’t want to bring shame to his family.
Miguel pointed to a bench for them to sit. The plaque on the backrest read, “Madeline Kahn, 1942-1999, A brilliant actress and lovely soul who loved this city and this park.” He continued, “The judge wasn’t lenient on him in regards to grand larceny, falsifying business records, and securities fraud.” His ex-brother-in-law was such a pompous ass who never thought he’d get caught. “He’s locked up for the next two decades. The girls don’t have a father who’s around.” Resentment entwined inside him.
“I feel ridiculous about the tea room.” Blake’s cheeks reddened.
“Don’t. Today was great. The girls loved it and they enjoyed you.” He couldn’t remember the last time such happiness had decorated their sweet little faces. “Cierra sang and Ofelia danced. Granted, their good moods may have been from too much candy.” He beamed, holding his hand tighter.
“It’s frivolous.”
“My nieces don’t have to live in a constant reminder their dad’s a con and Mom’s caught up in her career.”
“I see…Inez isn’t home much, is she?”
“No. It makes me loco. But I’m not their parent, she is.” He studied Blake’s eyes for a second to see if he followed. He did.
“Does your mom help out?”
“Mamá’s preoccupied with my papá.” Apprehension swept through him.
His high forehead rose up a fraction. “What’s wrong with your dad?”
“Let’s change the subject, okay? Why spoil a perfect day?” He shuddered at the thought about telling him about his father’s health or how they left Mexico the way they did. His family never talked about it; he wasn’t sure he even knew how.
