by Weber, Carl
Almost.
Once I touched down back home, I’d just have to be civil. Steer clear of her, Harris, and the demon spawn in her gut.
Besides, it was only a month after all. Then back here to complete my schooling.
“Is your family sending a car for you, Mademoiselle Duncan? Or will you need transportation arranged?” Madame Joan Marie asked before she turned her attention to the next departing student, this Croatian bitch with bad skin. Madame Joan Marie liked everything to run with Swiss precision. And when it didn’t, heads rolled.
The text I’d been waiting for came through on my phone, leading me to tune her ass out momentarily.
“No, Madame. My ride is here now,” I said as I looked up at her, flashing my first genuine smile of the day.
“Very well, mademoiselle. Adieu,” she commented as she took a slight bow and gracefully stepped aside. Funny that she never referred to me by my first name. Probably thought being named Paris, after a city, was ghetto or sumthin’. But not ghetto enough to refuse our money.
Had been counting down all week to this moment. So with a deep sigh of relief, I stepped, luggage in hand, toward the thick reinforced doors strong enough to survive a bomb blast. The inconspicuous school in this town, not far from the border with France, was on a lake bearing the same name. Until my parents sent me here to Neuchâtel, I only knew of this town for the Swiss chocolates they sold in America.
But my school was no Willy Wonka experience. No Oompa-Loompas around here. And creepy men in top hats and coats would get got.
Place was originally a hospital until, back in the late 1800s, it was converted into a school for the betterment and civility of young ladies like me whose parents had the money and desire to have them molded into so much more.
Leaving the toasty confines, I pulled my fur close to shield me from the cold rush of air on a sunny day. Just as the text said, a car horn to my right alerted me to the all-black Citroën C6 rolling in my direction down the slightly uneven Rue du Pommier. If I knew my daddy, he probably had it armored. I couldn’t contain myself and waved frantically, dropping the poise and polish drummed into my head twenty-four seven over the past year. I hoped LC had made the trip across the ocean to surprise me. I couldn’t wait to show him the new me I’d become and what I’d learned from my instructors.
Standing in the cold air I spotted Jae Kim being comforted by her fine-ass British hotty, who attended the male equivalent to our school in the next town. We exchanged bitter, hostile glares when I noticed him checking me out. Instead of continuing down the steps I stopped for a moment and a smile spread across my lips. When I finally approached them on the first landing of the steps I saw a look of confusion flutter across her face.
“Bye, Jae. Have a great spring break,” I offered in my most conciliatory voice. “You heading back to Korea?”
“Don’t you speak to me, you fucking bitch!” She glared then turned her back to me to punctuate her seriousness. But he shot me an apologetic smile. I stepped to him.
“If you didn’t have such shitty taste in women I’d consider giving you some.” I reached into my pocket and handed him a card with my phone number on it. “Just in case your taste improves,” I finished, the sounds of them arguing followed me down the stairs.
When the sedan rolled to a stop in front of the school, I didn’t wait for the driver to exit. Instead, I scrambled down the remaining brick steps and up to the car window where I tapped on it with my fingernails. Through the tint, I could make out a silhouette that had to be my daddy’s.
As the passenger lowered the window, the driver exited and went about gathering my bags to place in the trunk.
“Hello, Paris,” the voice said, taking me aback that it wasn’t my daddy’s.
“Orlando,” I muttered dryly at the recognition of my brother, clad in a navy blue suit with shiny O.D. cufflinks that adorned his crisp white cuffs. “Where’s Daddy?” I asked as he discarded a cigarette out the window while blowing smoke out his nose. Orlando was trying too hard to fit in with the cool and the chic out here. He had a woman seated on the side of him who looked to be Italian and probably didn’t speak a lick of English. I guessed it was a high-priced whore whom he’d arranged to spend time with. I paid her no mind.
“Well, hello to you too,” he replied with a grin certainly meant to piss me off.
“What do you want?” I asked my brother as the driver slammed the Citroën’s trunk shut then opened Orlando’s door for him. Bitch was getting cold and they wanted to play games. As Orlando exited, he allowed the driver to place his wool overcoat on him like he was a stone-cold pimp. The brunette stayed inside the car, never daring to look at me.
“C’mon, take a walk with me,” Orlando said with a motion of his head.
The Citroën slowly trailed us in the distance as me and my brother strode along the lake on Quai Phillippe-Gaudet. As a little Smart car buzzed by, even I had to admire the postcard beauty of this town. But this was cutting into my free time and Orlando wouldn’t come all the way here just to take a stroll with me.
“Why aren’t we on a G5 by now?” I pressed Orlando who’d been much too quiet.
“Because you’re not going back home.”
“Huh?” I said, stopping dead in my tracks. “Oh, that’s some serious bullshit!”
“At least not this time,” he added, taking two more steps before looking back at me. “You know London’s at the end of her pregnancy?” he said as both of us resumed walking, albeit much slower this time.
“Yeah. So?” I spat out, irritated at Orlando’s mention of my older sister.
“Your sister’s having some health issues, Paris. LC wants you to wait. Just stay away for a little while longer. Until the baby’s delivered. Every time somebody mentions your name it’s like her blood pressure spikes or something. You can see it in her eyes. Pop knows how y’all two are when you’re together.”
“London’s still upset about that ex of hers? Damn. That didn’t mean shit and I was younger back then. ’Sides, she should be thanking me for saving her from his lame ass.”
“No. It’s not just London’s issue with you,” he said, pausing to ensure our car was still trailing us. His disdain and disgust for that whole mess back when I’d visited London in college, especially my part in it, still showed. “Things are also unsettled over the stuff that went down with Vegas.” He mentioned my second-favorite brother and the family peacekeeper. “Delicate times.”
“And you’re just swooping in to take over for the throne, ain’t ya?”
“Your feelings for me aside, you need to shut the fuck up and listen,” Orlando growled. “Instead of coming home this trip, we want you to stay in Europe. Got a resort for you in Spain. Five stars . . . just how you like. Sun and fun, so it’s right up your alley. But try to stay low-key. We have enemies all over so we don’t need you broadcasting who you are. Reservations are under ‘Paris Wimberley.’”
“Spain, huh? And if I choose to go home instead?” I pushed, challenging my older brother. Fuck. I’d already planned my first twenty-four hours back home. Me and Rio were gonna get fucked up, go clubbin’, then compare notes on the men we’d selected for the night. Thoughts of spring break were what got me through these last few months. But now?
“This was LC’s decision. So he would be very disappointed in you,” Orlando replied, meaning Daddy would go ape shit and cut off my funds. Or worse. “Any more smart aleck questions?” my brother added after gauging the look of fear on my face.
“Yeah.”
“What now?” he said gruffly as he motioned our car over to pick us up.
“Can I get a new wardrobe?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.
Orlando frowned, consternation etched on his face as he no doubt wanted to object. “No! You’ve supported the rising stock prices for high-end designers long enough. Deal with it,” he bellowed.
“Then you wouldn’t mind me telling LC how you’re spending your money on this trip . . . and at h
ome. At least I have some material shit to show for my money. All you have are memories of nasty cum stains on some fake-ass titties bought by the last john,” I said, setting his ass straight.
Niles
2
I had been gambling most of the night and although I was up I hadn’t made a move. Yet. My biggest opponent at the table also happened to be the world’s biggest asshole.
“What are you gonna do with that?” He slammed down his card, making a big show. His name was Jeffrey, another useless trustafarian. His father was a billionaire, which accounted for his snobby, elitist arrogance. I’d known him for a couple of years. Since I moved from London to Barcelona. “What? What you gonna do?” He slid a hand down the arm of his incredibly hot girlfriend. I’d seen her with him recently and couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to land her. If I were a chick there wouldn’t be enough money in the world to waste my time with him.
“Call.” I nodded to the dealer. Tonight was one of those when I would have preferred to fly under the radar but I couldn’t help but fuck with this arrogant prick.
“Why the hell you gonna call? You see my cards I got showing,” he bragged, gesturing to the hand in front of him. The dealer laid down the perfect card for me. Lady Luck was definitely on my side. I revealed my hand: a flush.
“You fucking cheated!” He pushed up in my face. “What you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna take all your money and then I’m gonna take your girl upstairs and fuck the shit out of her!”
A look of shock colored her face a bright red.
“Whoa!” People reacted all around like cattle, one feeding off the next, all in awe like a group of kids on the schoolyard itching for a brawl.
“What the fuck you say?” Jeffrey reached into his waistband and pulled out a gun. The room swelled in a collective gasp. I shook my head slightly, amused at his misguided brazenness. This was not his best move. Instead of retreating I took a step toward him, pressing my chest against his weapon.
“You have any idea how many problems you gonna have if you shoot me?” I said. It was obvious that my words unbalanced him. I could see it on his face. This wasn’t how he expected things to go down. “All of your daddy’s money will be no match for the wrath that will rain down on you. Not to mention the lengthy prison sentence you’re going to serve for shooting an unarmed man in a room full of witnesses. Something tells me you’d be a popular bitch in prison.”
He swiveled as if noticing the crowd for the first time.
“Put the gun down now!” I demanded.
He wavered for a minute, trying to decide which was more important: his ego or his future. “You’re not worth it,” he snarled, lowering his gun.
I looked past him and addressed his woman. “You want to be with this loser, who is obviously all talk and no action?” I faced him again. “You pull out a piece then you should at least use it.” Then I smiled at her. “Or do you wanna be with a real man?” I waited for our eyes to lock before I softly said, “I apologize for my earlier comment. I lied. I’m not going to fuck the shit out of you. I’m going to make sweet love to you like a real man.” Her face spread into a smile and she took a step away from him, moving in my direction.
“What the fuck?” Jeffrey grabbed her arm possessively. She gave him an ice-cold stare and shook his hand off of her. I stepped in between them, ready to take him down.
“There is no need for that. I guess we all knew I was leaving with you,” she said, placing her hand into mine. I removed my jacket, threw it on the card table, and filled it with the winning chips less the ones I handed the dealer. I then tied my jacket up like a satchel, making sure it held all my winnings.
“Ready?” I grabbed her hand again and walked toward the exit. We could hear Jeffrey in the background taking stabs to regain his dignity but it was way too late for that.
Rio
3
By the time my parents entered the back room at Peter Luger’s, our family’s favorite restaurant, I had already downed my first martini and was quickly moving through my second. I stood up to greet my ’rents; the liquid courage coursing through my veins helped me to look normal and not scared shitless. The old-school waiter rushed over and affectionately greeted LC and Chippy, having served them for decades.
“Champagne. Bring us your very best!” LC shouted, beaming down at me.
“Dad, it’s okay. I’m already drinking vodka. Not good to mix alcohols.”
“Honey, it’s not every day you insist we have a private dinner.” My moms beamed at me. This was clearly going to be a whole hell of a lot harder than I thought.
“Can I get another one of these?” I motioned to the waiter before downing my drink.
“Yes, son. This is a very big deal. When you got into Morehouse your mother and I were very proud of you, especially when you agreed that law school was your plan. Your mother and I couldn’t help it so we checked your mail and saw that you got into every Ivy you chose plus a few Big Ten. Don’t keep us waiting. Which one do you think you’re going to choose?” LC, who normally kept his applause to a minimum when it came to his children’s accomplishments, was damn near jumping out of his seat. An Ivy League law degree was simply as good as it got in his opinion. What parent didn’t welcome the chance to brag to their friends about their offspring?
I steeled myself. There was really no point in delaying the unpleasant and inevitable. “Mom, Dad, we can talk about school next. First, there is something I really need to say to you,” I started.
“Well, get on with it!” LC barked, anxious to get back to discussing my continuing education. “The more good news the better!”
“I’m gay!” I announced as if I were saying “ta-da!” I stared at the undisguised shocked expressions on their faces.
“What the hell? Oh, no, no, that’s not possible!” my dad sputtered.
“Rio, you’ve always dated such nice girls,” my mother chimed in.
“Like that pretty brown-skinned girl you brought home last summer? You two seemed close to me,” he questioned.
“Erika is just a friend.”
“Relationships that begin with friendship are often the best ones,” my mom said, attempting to comfort my father.
“Look, I knew that this was going to be difficult for you but I can’t help who I am.” I spoke calmly even though I felt my voice shaking.
“This is bullshit! Whatever bored rich kid phase you’re going through, get over it! No son of mine is becoming some man’s little bitch.” LC sneered at me.
The waiter couldn’t have had worse timing as he chose that moment to present a rare and expensive bottle of celebratory bubbly. LC’s cold stare convinced him to keep it moving. He grabbed the bottle and hurried away.
All my life my father had run roughshod over us children. He controlled all aspects of our lives. If our friends failed to measure up to his standards, he would let us know. If our hobbies weren’t what he expected, he would make us stop. He even handpicked our respectable careers. Whatever we wanted to do or became second to what he expected and planned for us. Sure he made us think we had some say in it but when he pushed us in a general direction we all just went.
But my sexuality wasn’t up to him and now that I had come out of the closet there was no way I would allow myself to be shoved back into the darkness in order to please the great LC Duncan. I was going to control this part of my life whether he liked it or not.
“Honey, this is upsetting to your father,” my mother, ever the good cop, said sweetly as she leaned in close to me. It was her way of telling me to dial it back. “Son, this isn’t a good time to have this conversation.”
“Really? So that means that there is actually a good time?” I challenged her.
“How about that girl you went away with last spring break?” Dad questioned, sorting through his mental Rolodex for proof that I was absolutely straight like my brothers, Junior, Vegas, and Orlando.
“Alexandra was my beard. She liked girls and
I liked guys so we were the perfect match. I could fly under the radar and so could she. Eventually she found a girlfriend and came out to her parents. Since her parents were so loving and supportive, she encouraged me to do the same.” I dropped the words on the table like an avalanche. Undeniable. Heavy. I was hoping that my parents would get the hint and accept my declaration like Alexandra’s parents. If they didn’t, well, then I knew the damage would be permanent.
“This is the end of this conversation! We are not going to talk about it again. Ever!” my father finished, waving the waiter over. My mother patted my hand, her attempt at comforting me. He stared over at my mother.
“Did you know?” His voice bellowed through the room accusingly.
“I suspected,” my mother admitted. She caught the look of shock on my face. I thought I’d had everybody fooled. Especially my parents.
“How could I not? When Paris got that Barbie Dreamhouse Rio cried until I told him that he could share it. He always hated getting dirty the way our other boys did and . . .” She turned to me. “You’re still the only one that ever notices when I change my hairstyle.”
“That doesn’t mean anything!” My father’s voice brought me back to this fucked-up reality in front of me. “You have coddled and babied him so much he’s completely confused about what it means to be a man!” he accused my mother.
“LC!” Chippy’s tone sounded like a warning bell.
“She didn’t make me gay. I was born like this. I’m gay! G-a-y.”
