Another Mazzy Monday

by Savannah Young

  “Oh, yes,” I agree.

  “Yellow,” she declares. I quickly look around to see what she could possibly be talking about, but I’m not able to gain any clarity from her one-word declaration.

  “Your bridesmaids’ dresses should be yellow,” she clarifies.

  I’ve never been a fan of the color, but I just smile and nod. No sense in getting into a debate when there isn’t actually going to be a wedding.

  Guilt is beginning to weigh on me every time I think those words: there isn’t actually going to be a wedding. I’m starting to feel a little like a con artist, but one with a massive guilt-ridden conscience.

  The restaurant looks as expensive and fancy as I imagined. Every car in the parking lot is a luxury vehicle. And when we go inside the place has an air of wealth and sophistication.

  “Table for two,” Margaret snaps. “I’m sure you have our reservation.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Graham.” The poor host looks like he wants to just crawl into a hole somewhere instead of dealing with Margaret. Not that I can blame him. As hungry as I am I’d rather join him in that hole than have to spend a meal talking to her.

  My only saving grace is that she likes to talk more than she likes to listen. So far she hasn’t asked me any questions, but I have a feeling that’s about to change as we make our way to a prime table in the back of the restaurant with a stunning fountain view.

  As soon as we’re seated, and before I even have a chance to look at the menu, Margaret says, “I would recommend the salmon, with a small house salad. And a glass of Chardonnay.”

  She’s just like Drew, telling people what to order. Now I know where he got it from.

  “Okay,” I agree as I put my menu down. I’m not a huge fan of fish, but I get the impression she would be quite displeased if I ordered anything else. I definitely don’t want to see her displeased with me.

  To my surprise after I’ve placed my order exactly to her specifications, she orders something completely different for herself. A shrimp salad and red wine.

  She certainly gives new meaning to the word overbearing.

  When the waiter brings a basket of bread I wait to see if she’ll take a slice. I’m so hungry my stomach feels like it’s starting to digest itself. The bread smells delicious, but I don’t dare touch it until she gives me some kind of sign that it’s okay.

  As I inch my hand toward to bread I glance in her direction and I can see she’s clearly not happy. She’s actually scowling. When she gives me a slow, slight shake of her head I quickly place my hand on my lap and try to ignore the bread that’s now taunting me to eat it.

  Once the wine is served Margaret puts up her glass and calls for a toast. “To new love.”

  As we clink glasses all I can think about is Austin and how sexy he looked parading around the house this morning in his boxers and bare chest.

  We both take a small sip of wine and then Margaret says, “Tell me what you love about my son.”

  Without even thinking about it, I reply, “His smile. I love that he understands me. I love the way he can make me laugh, even at the most ridiculous things. And I love that I can make him laugh as well. I love how he makes me feel when I’m with him. Like I’m the most special person in the world. And I love that he isn’t afraid to say what he feels and he allows me to do the same.”

  Then I nearly gasp when I realize what I’ve done. I’ve told her all the things I love about Austin without even thinking. And she had asked me about Drew.

  When I glance up at her she’s smiling. I’m stunned that she believes I was talking about Drew. He’s none of those things. At least not that I can tell from the time we’ve spent together. But in her mind her precious Drew can do no wrong.

  Once our meals are served I do my best not to wolf my food down, but it’s hard because I’m starving. When I notice Margaret is barely even eating, just kind of moving her food around her plate with her fork, I try to leave a few bites on the plate that I can move around too.

  When it comes time to order desert I nearly choke when I see Drew hurry over to greet us. Margaret doesn’t seem at all surprised to see him and I get the sinking feeling that his appearance at the restaurant is not a coincidence but something that was well planned and staged. And I’m sure when we leave the restaurant there will be a line of photographers waiting to take pictures of the three of us following our lunch.

  Drew makes a point of giving me a kiss on the cheek before he takes a seat at our table.

  “You look lovely, Mazzy.” He gives me his politician grin then turns to Margaret. “As do you, Mother.”

  “Thank you, Darling,” Margaret gives Drew the same puppy-dog pat on the arm that she gave me earlier. “What brings you to Fendie?”

  “I was having lunch with the Mayor when I saw you arrive.”

  “What a coincidence.” Margaret gives a fake laugh. Coincidence my ass.

  I know I probably shouldn’t be, but I’m a little surprised when no bill comes for the food and we just get up and walk out of the place without paying. No one even bothers to leave the waiter a tip.

  And as someone who has waited tables her whole adult life this really rubs me the wrong way.

  “Excuse me for a moment,” I say just as we’re about ready to head out the door. I pretend like I’m heading towards the bathroom, but when I see Margaret and Drew have turned their attention to each other I hurry back to the table, remove the only money I have in my wallet, twelve dollars, and leave it on the table.

  As I pass by the waiter he gives me a nod and a quick smile and I can see he appreciates the gesture, even if it’s barely fifteen percent of the tab.

  “Make sure you stand to Mazzy’s left,” Margaret urges Drew. “She’ll be positioned to the left.”

  “Got it,” Drew assures her.

  And then we head out the door and into a sea of photographers.

  ***

  The lake house is eerily quiet when Margaret drops me off. I held by breathe hoping she didn’t want to be invited inside. Luckily she said she had to get back to the city to meet her husband for dinner.

  Drew was not able to give me a ride back because he had a lineup of meetings scheduled for the afternoon and evening and told me not to expect him home until late tonight.

  What else is new? Since we’ve been engaged we haven’t spent one entire evening together. Not that I’m too upset. Truth be told he makes me a little uncomfortable. We don’t seem to have anything in common. And it’s not like he’s actually there in any real way even when you’re in the same room with him. Talking to him is like talking to someone who is constantly playing a role.

  I noticed Austin’s motorcycle was parked in the driveway, so he’s got to be around somewhere. I just need to figure out where. I quietly make my way upstairs in case he’s taking a nap, but when I knock on his door, and then slowly open in, the room is empty and his bed is made.

  Against my own better judgment I don’t immediately leave. I glance around his room instead. I realize it’s not really his room, it’s just a room he’s using while he’s in town for the election, but I can still faintly smell his masculine scent.

  When I move over to his balcony and glance out at the lake I catch sight of him in the distance, sitting at the edge of the lake in a folding chair, holding a fishing pole.

  I hurry into my own room, quickly change into some jeans, a sweater and sneakers and then make my way downstairs and out onto the main balcony. I take the stairs down to the lake and then make my way to where Austin is seated.

  As I get closer to him I notice that he’s wearing earbuds and his eyes are closed. I’ve never seen someone completely asleep and still holding a fishing pole in an upright position.

  I don’t want to scare him, so I say his name in a soft, calm voice. I’m not sure how loud he has his music playing, but it’s obvious he can’t hear me.

  So I move closer and ever-so-gently touch his arm.

  He nearly jumps out of the chair and the fishin
g pole goes flying in the process.

  “Sorry,” I utter.

  He puts his hand to his chest. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I tried saying your name, but you couldn’t hear me.”

  He pulls the buds out of his ears. “Jane’s Addiction. It was pretty loud.”

  “Jane Says is one of my favorite songs,” we both say in unison then laugh.

  “You have good taste in music,” I say.

  He eyes me. “You have good taste in men.”

  “Did you catch anything?” I pick up his fishing pole and hand it to him.

  He shakes his head. “I never catch anything. Maybe it would help if I actually used some bait.”

  I laugh. “You don’t use bait?”

  “I don’t like sticking the worms on a hook. It kind of freaks me out.”

  “You could use fake ones.”

  “That sounds like too much work. I just like coming out here and sitting in the sun. It’s not too cold yet to still enjoy the lake.”

  I look out over the pristine water. “It is peaceful.”

  “How was lunch with my mother?” he asks.

  “Exactly how you predicted it would be. And then Drew joined us for dessert, which we never actually ordered.”

  “Drew joined you for a photo op,” he states.

  “I know.” I move in closer to Austin and look into his sexy green eyes. “He’s going to be gone until late tonight.”

  He gives me a sexy half grin. “Are you propositioning me?”

  I kick a little bit of sand nervously. I’ve never actually propositioned anyone before. I’m not even sure that’s exactly what I’m doing. I just know that I’ve been thinking about him all day.

  “Maybe,” I say finally.

  “Let’s get this stuff back into the pool house and see what we can do about entertaining you while Drew is gone.”

  We decide it’s best to use Austin’s bedroom. Not only does he lock the door he also puts a desk chair under the door handle for added security. No one is getting into this bedroom without a fight.

  “As much as I love that sexy little sweater on you,” Austin says. “It’s got to go.”

  My heart is racing thinking about being with him again. I’ve never used drugs, but I wonder if this is how a drug addict feels when handed her drug of choice. I’m definitely becoming addicted to Austin.

  Just as I’m about to remove my sweater the phone rings. It’s the house phone, which I didn’t even realize we had. Apparently there’s one in each room.

  Austin and I stare at each other.

  “Should I answer it?” I wonder aloud.

  “Drew would call on your cellphone, wouldn’t he?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea. He never phones me.”

  The phone continues to ring. “I don’t think it’s going to stop,” I add.

  “Go ahead and answer it. I doubt anyone is calling for me.”

  “Mazzy Olsen?” the gruff male voice says when I pick up the phone.

  “Who is this?”

  “Is this Mazzy Olsen?” The voice repeats.

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “I’m Brent Davis from OutRaged Online. We’re a news blog. We’re going to be running a story tomorrow and we wanted to get your comment on it.”

  “Maybe you’d better speak to my fiancé.”

  Brent actually laughs in my face. “Believe me, we’ve been trying to do that. We’re going to run with the story whether he comments or not. But since he hasn’t been so good about getting back to us we thought the best way to pull him out of hiding is to get your comment.”

  “I don’t have any comment,” I say quickly hoping it will get him off the phone.

  But he persists. “How can you say you don’t have a comment when you haven’t even heard what the story is about?”

  I wait to see what else he has to say for himself.

  “Miss Olsen? Are you still there?”

  “I’m waiting to hear about this breaking story you think you’ve got.”

  He laughs again. “This is a hot one. I can assure you of that. Two sources have come forward with similar stories. They were both fraternity brothers of Drew Graham’s when he was in college. They both say that they had sexual relationships with him while they were in school. They’re both now openly gay and they want Drew to step out of the closet and be honest about his sexuality. They think it’s awfully convenient that he happens to get engaged when a few media sources started questioning his sexual orientation. They want to publish their stories.”

  “I think that’s Drew’s private life.”

  When Brent laughs again I want to reach into the phone and punch that stupid laugh right down his throat. “Drew Graham is a public figure. He no longer gets to have a private life.”

  “What right do you have to out someone? Shouldn’t that be his story to tell when and if he wants to tell it?”

  “Can I quote you?” Brent asks.

  “No, you may not quote me. Not now and not ever.”

  “There’s a reason we’re called OutRaged. Because we feel it’s our duty to report on the hypocrisy of people in government. When you work for a political party that actively tries to limit the rights of gays and lesbians and you are gay that’s hypocrisy in action. Look, this isn’t just about Drew Graham. This is an equal rights issue. Do you know that 83 percent of employees still feel that they have to hide their sexual orientation at work? In 29 states people can still be fired based in their sexual orientation. Homosexuality is still banned in 77 countries and in five countries it’s punishable by death. As long as people like Drew Graham think it’s okay or necessary to remain in the closet, we will never have equal rights.”

  I’m not sure what to say about any of this. It’s way beyond anything I’ve ever thought about. “I don’t have anything to say,” I reiterate.

  “So you’re okay with marrying a gay man?” he asks.

  I can feel my chest tightening. I knew I’d be in the news when I agreed to pose as Drew’s fiancé, but I never imagined it would be news like this.

  “No comment,” I repeat.

  “Let Drew know we called,” Brent says before he hangs up.

  Before I even have to ask Austin is by my side. “What was that all about?”

  I can feel my lips moving but no words are coming out of my mouth. I think I’ve been stunned silent.

  Austin removes the phone from my hand and places it on the receiver then takes me into his arms.

  As soon as I nestle into his strong chest I start to cry. A big, ugly one.

  He doesn’t even try to stop me. He just allows me to sob. Once I seem to have gotten it all out of my system he leads me over to the bed and we both sit down.

  “Now tell me who that was and what they wanted.”

  I take in a deep breath and tell him everything Brent said.

  “Wow.” He can’t seem to stop shaking his head. “I have no idea what to say.”

  “We have to phone Drew and let him know what’s going on. The story is supposed to come out tomorrow.”

  “As will my brother apparently whether he wants to or not.” It’s a feeble attempt at humor and it falls flat in the tension filled room.

  “We’re going to have to let my parents know,” Austin adds. “I’ll let Drew deal with that.”

  “Do you mind phoning him? I’m still shaking I’m so upset.”

  He nods. “Sure.”

  He grabs the phone and dials. As calm as Austin is trying to be while he explains the situation I can hear Drew screaming on the other end of the line.

  After he finally hangs up Austin says, “We’d better get dressed. They’re coming right over.”

  “Who is they?”

  “Drew and George. Who do you think he’s with when he’s not with you?”

  “I need to take a quick shower.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I’d offer to hop in there with you…”

  “Another time.” I give him
a quick kiss on the cheek. “We’ll never be ready when they get here if we take a shower together.”

  Ten

  Austin

  Mazzy and I sit in silence waiting for Drew and George to arrive. I can’t seem to stop my legs from bouncing nervously and Mazzy is anxiously playing with her thumbs.

  Our nervous antics stop the minute we hear the sound of car doors slam. It only takes a few seconds before Drew and George hurry into the house.

  George takes a seat on the easy chair next to the television while Drew just paces back and forth in front of me and Mazzy on the couch.

  “Maybe I can get some kind of court order to stop them,” Drew throws out.

  “On what grounds?” I ask. “Is there anything untrue about what they’re going to publish?”

  When Drew stops and looks at me I can see lines on his forehead that weren’t there just a day ago. And he’s got dark circles under his eyes. It’s like all of the youth was drained out of his face and left an older and sadder man in its place.

  He heaves a sigh. “It’s true.”

  “I don’t see any way you’ll be able to stop them,” I reply.

  Drew starts pacing again. Then he stops and looks at George and then at me and Mazzy. “I’ll just have to get ahead of the story.”

  “What are you saying?” Concern lines George’s face.

  “I’ll call a press conference and come out.”

  “But you’re supposed to be engaged,” George reminds him. “To a woman.”

  Drew nods and then puts a finger to his chin. I’m sure he’s trying to think of a way he can spin the story so he can still stay ahead in the polls. After a few more paces by the couch he says, “Everyone loves a good underdog story. I lied because I didn’t think people would accept me as a gay politician. I didn’t think the people of New Jersey were ready to elect a gay governor.” Then just like the politician my brother is he gives us a camera-ready look of the utmost sincerity and says, “I hope you’ll prove me wrong. I hope you prove to the country that New Jersey will elect the person who is best suited for the job. Period.”

  We all look at Drew in stunned silence. Could it really work? Could he really pull it off?