After a lengthy silence, he almost successfully made his voice sound calm as he said, “I don’t know how you’ll get out if it, but maybe you shouldn’t come to the ball next week.”
“What ball?” I said into the pillow, reeling too much to understand anything but my own pain.
“The one everyone’s talking about.”
Finally, it struck me that what he meant was the Valentine’s Ball at which everyone was speculating he and Kimberly were going to announce their engagement. Too stunned by this impossibility to feel anything, I bolted up to inspect his face to see if he was being serious. “What’s going to happen there?” I asked, my voice suddenly rough from tightness and fear.
J.J. shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Then he let himself out, closing the door quietly behind him.
CHAPTER 19
LOVE YOUR HEART
If I’d thought I’d been sleeping badly before, now that my heartbreak was coupled with an almost unbearable anxiety about what might or might not take place at the Love Your Heart Ball, keeping my eyes open proved to be my biggest challenge. It was as if my heart and mind were so inundated with misery that they’d shut off in self-preservation. It was like when you sink to the bottom of a swimming pool and look above, the distorted sights and sounds ripple and surround you while your lungs burn with their need for oxygen. But it was every minute of every day, at school, in the kitchen making dinner, trying to help Duane as he altered the deep scarlet brocade of the dress he was creating for Kimberly. Only sleep felt real, and something in me craved it beyond all other things.
Because I was in such a fog, it wasn’t until the night before the ball, when Iris told me she wanted everyone ready to go by seven the next night, that I realized that I’d done nothing about taking J.J.’s advice to avoid going. Oddly, the first thing that made me feel something clearly was the fear of even more pain if I had to watch him announce to the world that he was engaged to Kimberly. But Iris wasn’t having it. Even after I said I thought I’d contracted a communicable disease, and spreading a new plague to everyone in the social registry not going to do her reputation any good. (I thought I saw her waver on that one, but then Buck had to open his mouth and say what a good impression a token gay in the family made on liberals like the Kennerlys. I pointed out that they’d already met me, and he countered that it would look like I was trying to make a statement. Which, in a way, I guess I was.)
Anyway, as it was a Friday, I’d barely gotten home from school when I opened the front door to find Coco Chanel Jones in full drag queen regalia. High-fashion, tasteful drag queen, but drag queen nonetheless. The dress was silver lamé, after all.
“What happened to the tux?” I asked.
“I’ve been making all of these fabulous dresses for every rich bitch in New York City, and I realized this bitch hasn’t shown her fabulosity in months.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea for business?”
“If they can’t take the competition, fuck ‘em.”
After he passed by, I stuck my head out to see what the paparazzi situation was, and Coco told me there were only a couple guys staked out across the street. “I guess the rest are waiting at the Met,” I said.
Before he answered, Iris called from upstairs. “Is that Duane?”
“Sort of,” I said.
“What does that mean?” she said, clearly irritated, but then poking her head from the top of the stairs, saw what I meant. “Oh. Right.”
“Relax, Mama, you can handle the competition,” Coco said, kicking off her stilettos and starting up the stairs, leaving the shoes in the entryway. As soon as they’d disappeared into Iris’s room, I began to pace the front hallway, desperately trying to think of a last-minute way out of attending the ball. The irony that only a few months before I’d been trying to figure out a way to get into a ball, and this time I was scheming to get out of one, did not escape me. So much had changed since then.
“Chris, I need you!” Kimberly called from upstairs. Well, some things hadn’t changed all that much.
Reluctantly, with feet that felt soaked in cement, I climbed the stairs, dreading being alone with Kimberly. I’d worked very hard to avoid her as much as possible the last few weeks, and because she’d been spending so much time with J.J., I was pretty sure she hadn’t even noticed. But with just the two of us in her bathroom together, avoiding her was likely to be a little more difficult.
As I entered, she was trying to zip up the back of the red dress Duane had created for her, strapless with a sweetheart neckline, and a playful mini-bustle from which a chiffon train extended. She looked beautiful. “Can you help me zip this, please?”
Without answering, I approached her, zipped up the dress, which fitted perfectly, and as I looked the effect over, acknowledged, “Duane really knows what he’s doing.”
Kimberly beamed. “He’s amazing,” and then surprised me with a peck on the cheek.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“For introducing me to him.”
“Oh.” Then thinking back on how I’d first met him as I sat dejectedly on our front steps and he happened to walk by dressed up as Diana Ross, I shook my head with bemusement. “It’s strange how the most important people can seem to fall into your life.”
Kimberly nodded in agreement. “Yeah, like J.J.”
Annoyance flashed across my face, but I tried to cover it, even as I said, “Well, actually, you and Iris basically hunted him down.”
With a guilty yet impish grimace, she said, “Oh, yeah.” Then barely waiting a beat, she asked, “Do you love him?”
I took two involuntary steps back away from her, stunned by her blunt casualness as much as by the fact that she’d figured everything out and had waited until now to question me about it.
“J.J.?” I asked.
Rolling her eyes, she said, “No, silly. Duane. Do you love him?”
Almost melting with relief as my heart began to beat again, I swallowed with difficulty, then moved over to the vanity to busy myself with straightening it up. “Duane isn’t my boyfriend. We’re just friends.”
She frowned. “Oh.” She joined me at the vanity, picking up a makeup brush and making slight alterations on her cheekbones. “I think it would be nice if you met someone.”
I stopped what I was doing as I chewed my lip, wanting so badly to ask her all of the things that I’d been avoiding her for the last few weeks so that I wouldn’t ask. Then, suddenly, before I could stop the words from coming out of my mouth, I heard myself say, “So, are you and J.J. announcing anything tonight at the ball?”
She scoffed. “If you mean all of that craziness the gossip people have been speculating about, let’s just say it would be news to me. It’s ridiculous what they get away with saying.”
“So you two aren’t … engaged, or whatever?”
“Do you really think we wouldn’t tell you first?”
I nodded, relieved, but now that I’d broached the subject, I wanted to know more. “Have you ever discussed it?” I kept my eyes lowered, busying myself more intently than ever with the pencils, and creams, and powders scattered around.
Kimberly let out a soft sigh, lowering the makeup brush. “J.J. is amazing and smart and perfect and all of that … but he’s not exactly the easiest person to get to know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, I know he’s been the center of everyone’s attention since he was born, and everyone wants to be near him, and all of that stuff, so he has to have built up walls, but ….”
I looked up to find her watching me with uncertainty.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Kimberly,” I said, “you can tell me anything.”
“Do you ever feel like he’s putting on a show for you?”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean, he never says or does anything wrong. He never gets mad, he never gets emotional, h
e never doesn’t have the right answer. Everything about him is so perfect, and … well, I’m not. I mean, I want to be, especially when I’m around him. I’m not saying he’s not a great influence, but I just keep wondering what he’s doing with me. Duane says that’s what everybody feels when they’re in love, that everyone has self-doubts, but I don’t know. I guess I thought being in love was supposed to make you feel better about yourself, not worse.”
I don’t know which I was less prepared for, that Kimberly had expressed such intimate thoughts to me, or to realize that she was as insecure as anyone else. But I also couldn’t help but wonder if she would be feeling those things if the man she was in love with wasn’t trying so hard to appear different than he really was.
“Have you ever said any of these things to J.J.?”
She sighed again, this time a little exasperated, picking up a lipstick. “He just shakes his head and tells me I’m crazy.”
I probably should have let it rest, but having learned so much in the last minute or two, I had to make sure of one more thing. I stepped over to the door, closing it, so that no one passing by could inadvertently overhear. This action caught Kimberly’s attention, and she watched me in the mirror with curiosity.
“What?” she asked.
“So if J.J. asked you to marry him, you wouldn’t accept, right?”
“Are you kidding?!” she said. “Of course I would!”
“Wait, what? But you just said ….”
“But if he wanted to marry me, then I’d know I was just being stupid. Besides, who cares, I could afford all of the therapy in the world. Retail therapy, aromatherapy, psychotherapy, you name it. And I’d be married to J.J.-freakin’-Kennerly! Can I get an amen?”
Of all the white girls in the world, Kimberly was among the least likely to pull that one off. “You’ve been spending too much time with Duane,” I said.
She shrugged, then a devious smile rose on her lips. “Although it would be kind of fun to make Mom think I might say no. Just to watch her squirm.”
“But you wouldn’t say no?” I asked.
“Hell to the no.”
“You’ve really got to stop trying to act black, Kimberly. Seriously.” If I couldn’t stop her from marrying a gay guy, this advice was the least I could offer.
The walk up the stairs to the Met was my first red carpet. Not what I’d expected. Not glamorous. Yes, there were lights, and cameras, and flashes going off, but the noise was off-putting. Everyone yelled to get Kimberly and J.J.’s attention first, then Jonas and Jennifer’s, then Buck’s (who it turned out now had a meme website dedicated to him, started by some girl who’d given up on her dream of marrying J.J.), and with Iris and Coco more than happy to take up what attention remained. I hung back as much as I was able and watched the forced cheerfulness from everyone—people on one side of the camera smiling to look as happy as the fantasy tells us some lives are, and those on the other side of the camera fawning with barely veiled desperation, afraid that they might not get the right picture to pay their next month’s rent. Or maybe I was just in a bad mood. But it had definitely been more fun sneaking into the Autumnal Ball through the back door than arriving for this one “in style.”
Once we’d checked our coats and Coco’s large handbag, which she’d asked me to hold while walking the red carpet, she told me to keep the claim tag accessible because she would probably need to get to it several times over the course of the evening. Since her dress didn’t have pockets, I didn’t have much choice but to help out. Honestly, if I’d known what she had in mind (and in that bag), I probably wouldn’t have had the nerve to carry it.
“What is in that thing anyway?” I asked. “It weighs a ton.”
“Just the usual stuff. Makeup, hair spray, a tailoring kit just in case anything goes wrong with this or any of the other dressing I created for clients.”
“Those things shouldn’t weigh that much.”
“Fine, a copy of War and Peace and two solid gold bars stolen from Fort Knox. Does that make you feel better? Maybe you should start working out with Buck if you think that was so heavy. Women are supposed to be so weak and frail, but we carry that stuff around with us all the time. If men only knew the effort and preparation it takes women to look the way we do.” She huffed, crossing her arms at her waist, then realized she looked a little bustier if she squeezed.
“Dude,” I said, “What is wrong with you?”
She pouted with comedic drama. “I’m just very tense. I have seven dresses coming here tonight.”
“Well, Iris and Kimberly both look amazing.”
She perked right up, beginning to smile warmly, but I quickly realized it wasn’t because of what I’d said. A very handsome Latino waiter was walking towards us with a silver tray of champagne glasses and an appreciative stare focused directly on Coco.
“Champagne?” he asked in a way that somehow actually said, I want to find an empty broom closet and and slip inside with you.
Coco batted her thick, false eyelashes demurely. “Papi, I’m not old enough to drink.”
“What are you old enough for?” he asked, clearly checking to make sure he didn’t have to worry about being accused of statutory rape.
“Anything else,” Coco said, her lips quivering in a way that under different circumstances would have gotten her diagnosed with Parkinson’s.
“I shall find you again and again this evening. It will be easy. I must only look for the most beautiful woman in the room.” As he turned and offered drinks to another group of guests, Coco began making a noise that was somewhere between a purr and a growl.
“The most beautiful woman in the room?” I said. “At what point are you going to fill him in on a few pertinent details?”
Coco, her mouth puckered tightly, turned slowly towards me, meeting my eyes with her eyebrow disdainfully raised. “Oh, he knows.”
“Christopher!” I turned around to find Kiki Cacciatore, all in black, of course, smiling at me in a way that let me know she had more in mind than a simple greeting. She leaned in to air kiss both of my cheeks, while also evaluating Coco as she did.
“Kiki, this is Coco,” I said, almost wanting to laugh as soon as both of their names came out of my mouth in the same sentence. I wasn’t quite sure what Kiki’s take would be from a media consultant’s point of view, so I was guarded, but as she offered her hand to shake, the look on Coco’s face was even more so.
Until Kiki spoke. “We need to get you a reality show,” she told Coco.
“Finally someone in this crazy world is talking sense,” Coco responded, taking a hand and clasping Kiki’s forearm. “Make me rich, bitch.”
“Make me richer, bitcher,” Kiki said, staring Coco dead in the eyes. It was like the asexual version of the meeting between Anna Karenina and Count Vronksy, although hopefully with happier results. “Call me.” Then Kiki turned her attention back to me. “I need you in about twenty minutes.”
“For what?” I asked
She looked surprised that I didn’t know. “For J.J.’s announcement.”
Trying to keep down the panic that started racing up my body, I asked, “His announcement of what?”
“His opening remarks.”
“So why do I need to be there?”
“You’re all going to be there—Kimberly, Buck, Mrs. Fontaine, plus Jennifer and Jonas. You know, one big happy family.”
“But—I—nobody told me—”
“I’m telling you. Twenty minutes. No, now you’re making me nervous, make it fifteen.” She looked at Coco. “If you don’t have him at the Temple of Dendur in fifteen minutes, it could mean the end of your television career.”
“He’ll be there,” Coco said. “I can’t guarantee he’ll be alive, but he’ll be there.”
“I love you already,” Kiki said as she spun on her heel and left.
They had set up a podium on the large concrete platform that held the Temple of Dendur, so that whoever was speaking would be nicely framed by th
e stone gate overlooking the reflecting pool. A makeshift holding area had been created with some tenting to the side of the temple behind the gate, and this was where Coco led-slash-dragged me. We were two minutes early, or seven if you didn’t take Kiki’s precautionary buffer into account, and while people and press abounded in the gallery, none of my family or the Kennerlys appeared to have arrived.
“Maybe everyone’s in the tent?” Coco said.
“Why don’t you go in and check?”
“And leave you alone to scurry off like the cowardly little cockroach you are and ruin my television career? I think not.” Getting behind me and pushing me towards the white canvas structure, Coco reached around and stuck her hand into my jacket pocket, pulling out the coat check numbered tag. “As soon as I hand you off to Kiki, I need to run get something.”
“Any chance you carry cyanide capsules in that bag?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, but I’ll check,” she responded dryly.
My intestines were as knotted as last year’s Christmas lights, but when we stepped into the dimly lit tent and found it empty except for one attendant in a suit facing the back wall, I sighed, briefly relaxing a small amount. Until the attendant turned around and revealed himself to be J.J. Although not quite as loud as at some noted points in the past, my damned gasp returned.
An awkward silence followed, as J.J. and I looked squarely at each other, really for the first time since my rebuffed attempt at reminding him with a kiss how much we meant to one another.
Finally, J.J. cleared his throat and nodded at Coco. “Good to see you back in all your glory.”
Coco curtsied demurely, but followed it with her usual brazenness. “Baby, if you ever saw me in all my glory, your life would never be the same.”
I winced before I could stop myself, which she noticed, and smacked my shoulder roughly. Then looking back at J.J., she said, “Will you make sure this one doesn’t run off anywhere? Kiki made me responsible, but I need to get something from my bag, so now he’s your problem, ya hear?” Without waiting for a response, she disappeared out of the flaps of the entrance, leaving J.J. and me torturously, and at the same time blissfully, alone.
My Fairy Godmother is a Drag Queen Page 21
