I'm Your Man (40 page)

Maybe it wasn't a lack of love, but a need to control. You couldn't control the world, or the things your child would have to endure, so you tried to control your child. To make him into someone the world wouldn't hurt or reject. Daniel had often chided me about my need to control people. My scheme to use our fifteen minutes of fame to force him to spend time with me seemed to confirm his accusations. I hoped that didn't mean I was doomed to repeat my family's mistakes with my child.

Then again, Daniel wasn't a child, nor was he the most pliable of accomplices. Our public appearances were proof that he was only too eager to challenge my opinions and goad me into arguments.

“Is that what you're wearing?” Daniel asked one night when we were off to another benefit.

“No. It's an illusion done with smoke and mirrors. I'm really wearing a sequined ball gown,” I growled.

Since the press no longer found it necessary to camp on our doorsteps, Daniel and I felt free to try to get the bitterness out of our systems. He glared at me as we stalked angrily to Ninth Avenue to hail a cab.

“All I meant was,” he said, “if we're going to make people think we're a couple, you should start dressing a little more—”

“Like you?”

“Yes,” he insisted. “Remember that photo in the ‘Styles' section? I don't mean to sound conceited, but I'm known for being a stylish dresser.”

“I know you don't mean to sound conceited,” I said. “It just comes naturally to you.”

Daniel scowled at me but let the insult slide, saying, “If you want people to believe we're dating, you should refresh your wardrobe so it looks like I'm influencing you.”

We slid into the backseat of a cab, and I recited an address that Gavin had hastily scribbled for me to the driver. “We want people to think we're a couple. I'm not in this alone, you know,” I said to Daniel, resuming the discussion. “And you're being ridiculous. I never altered my style when we actually were dating. Why should I do it now?”

“I'm just saying it's an idea. Lots of couples take on each other's characteristics when they're in love. Style is sometimes one of them.”

“If that was true, David Arquette wouldn't be on
People
's ‘Worst Dressed List' all the time. And why would I have to be the one to change? Why couldn't you start wearing suits? Or be the responsible one for a change?”

Daniel took a deep breath and opened his mouth as if to start yelling, then looked at our driver and stopped himself.

“What?” I asked.

“I'm afraid we're going to end up on
Taxi Cab Confessions
or something,” he whispered.

“That's insane. Those people have to sign releases before they ‘confess.' It's a skewed version of reality,” I said.

“Just like us,” Daniel said. He fell silent until he asked, “Where are we going?”

“BATS is throwing a fund-raising benefit party at some club downtown. I have an early morning meeting, so I don't want to stay too late. Violet tried to talk me out of going. She's worried I'll oversleep and miss my meeting.”

“What the hell is BATS?” Daniel asked.

“Brooklyn Area Transgender Support,” I said.

“No wonder she didn't want you to go,” Daniel said, hiding a grin behind his hand and looking away from me.

“Why?”

“Blaine, you really are clueless sometimes. Violet used to be a man.”

“No, she didn't,” I said, looking at him like he was crazy.

“Okay, you could be right. I don't know what stage of the process she's in. But she's definitely transgendered. You do know what that is, don't you?”

“Of course,” I said, holding up a hand so he wouldn't go into graphic detail.

“Until now, I thought you knew about her,” Daniel said. “I finally understand why she always avoided meeting me. Considering my past as Princess 2Di4, she probably figured I'd spot it immediately and tell you.”

“But that would mean she was keeping it a secret from me,” I said, dazed by his revelation. “If that's the case, it worked. I thought she was a woman.”

“She
is
a woman,” Daniel said. “She used to be a man.”

“Right. But why would she want to keep that a secret from me?”

“Blaine, I'm not trying to start another fight,” Daniel said, “but sometimes you can be very intolerant.”

I met Daniel's honesty and his sympathetic stare with silence. Rather than fly off the handle like I normally would, I carefully weighed his words. I thought about Jeremy's criticism of the way I usually reacted to Daniel's past profession as a female impersonator and, most recently, when he'd shown up at my apartment in drag to elude the press. I was sometimes hostile, but usually changed the subject. I'd embed it in the past, as if drag were a bout of chicken pox that Daniel had caught but would never experience again. Which was how Daniel treated the subject of my ex-wife, Sydney. The difference was, I shared Daniel's feelings about Sydney. Daniel, on the other hand, regarded his years of performing as 2Di4 with fondness, as if she were a real person he loved and respected, who had moved to another country and was sorely missed.

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“For not knowing Violet was once a man?” Daniel asked, looking perplexed. “That's nothing to be sorry for. She's beautiful. It took a few hard glances for me to be sure.”

“No. Not that,” I said, pausing to get the words right. “I'm sorry that I always reacted so badly whenever the subject of 2Di4 came up. Not only because of how that must have made you feel, but because I missed sharing a part of your past that made you who you are today.”

Daniel stared at me, his mouth slightly open, until the cab swerved to avoid colliding with a bus and he grabbed my arm to keep from being flung across the backseat. He finally said, “Okay,” very quietly. When he realized that he was still holding my arm, we both watched as he slowly let go and retreated into silence.

“Do you know anyone else who's transgendered?” I asked.

“Uh-huh. Bernice at Club Chaos,” he answered.

“Bernice?” I asked, shocked.

“Yeah. You know her. She runs the sound system there.”

“I know who she is,” I said, remembering the time Daniel and I had borrowed Bernice's truck to pick up my leather sofa from a showroom in SoHo. “I didn't know she was a man.”

“Is a woman,” Daniel said, correcting me. “Really, Blaine. If we're going to be hobnobbing with transgendered people tonight, you should watch what you say.”

We were almost banished to the long line of people waiting to get into the club because the doorman didn't have our names on his list.

“I don't mean to be an asshole,” Daniel began.

“But he does it so well,” I said.

The doorman laughed, but fell silent when Daniel got in touch with his inner diva and said, “I was performing in this club when you were first figuring out how to masturbate. Now get your head out of your ass and let us in.”

A man who'd come from inside the club asked, “Is there a problem here?”

“Yeah,” the doorman said, gesturing to Daniel and me. “These two say they should—”

“Holy shit! It's Angus! I mean, Daniel Stephenson,” the other man said. He pulled aside the velvet rope and led us into the club, babbling the whole way. “I'm so glad you two made it. Daniel, I'm sure you know Taylor? The club's owner? He's doing an interview with the director of BATS right now. I know they'd love to get a picture with both of you. Come on.”

We posed for a few pictures, and Daniel, speaking for both of us to the reporter, said, “It's high time that legislation to extend civil liberties to transgendered people was introduced to City Council. There were nineteen transgendered people murdered this year. Blaine and I feel that transgendered people have a right to feel as safe and protected in this city as anyone else.”

When we joined the party and hit the dance floor, Daniel wrapped his arms around me and started moving slowly to the music, although a fast dance mix was pulsing through the club's sound system. It felt good to have him close to me, and it was easy to forget all of our arguments, but I reminded myself that there were photographers around and he was only portraying his role as the doting boyfriend.

“I didn't know I felt so strongly about transgender equality,” I said in Daniel's ear.

He pulled back from me and said, “I'm sorry I spoke for both of us.”

“No. It's fine. I'm all for it. Now that I know someone who's . . .” I trailed off, unsure of what I was trying to say.

“What?” Daniel yelled.

“Never mind,” I shouted. Daniel shrugged and kept dancing, although he no longer felt compelled to hold me. I spied a familiar face across the room and said, “I'll be back in a minute.”

When I reached the bar, Violet handed me a martini. “It's dirty,” she said. “You showed up.”

“Yes. Despite your protests,” I said, sipping the drink so it wouldn't spill. “Hey, speaking of dirty little secrets—”

“Found me out, huh?” Violet asked.

“Daniel told me,” I said.

“Speaking of dirty little secrets,” Violet mimicked me. She glanced at the people around us and motioned for me to follow her to a corner of the room where nobody would overhear our conversation. “How's it going?”

“Dammit, Violet,” I said. “I find out I know less about you than I thought I did, and you want to talk about me and Daniel?”

“Could you know less? When's my birthday? Where do I live?” she asked. I cringed when I realized I had no answers. “Here's a hint. You're at a benefit for an organization with Brooklyn in its title.”

“I'm sorry. I suck,” I said. I was relieved when she laughed.

“No, you don't,” she protested. “You're a busy man, and I'm your assistant.”

“But I think of you as my friend, Violet, above all else. You're like my spine. I'd be a mass of quivering Jell-O if it wasn't for you.” She looked embarrassed, albeit in a pleased way. I remembered our meeting with Lillith and said, “You're a Capricorn. I know that much.”

Violet exclaimed, “Ha! Technically, Noreen was right. I am an Aries. Four years ago, I had my final operation on January twentieth, so I consider that my birthday now.”

“No wonder poor Noreen was so confused.”

“Yes. Especially since all my legal documentation lists April twelfth as my birthday. I'm sure that's on her company astrology charts.”

“How come you never told me?” I asked.

“I don't like a fuss on my birthday.”

“Not that,” I said.

“I was afraid,” Violet said. She stared into her martini as she continued, “I applied at Breslin Evans because I heard they were extending benefits to partners of their gay and lesbian employees. When I found out that was your idea, I asked to work for you.”

“I didn't have
that
much to—”

“Blaine, please,” Violet interrupted. “This is my story.”

“Sorry,” I said, failing to suppress a laugh.

“However liberal Breslin Evans tried to be, there was nothing in their antidiscrimination policies that said they couldn't fire me because of my being transgendered. So I didn't tell anyone. Why should I? I'm a woman.”

“Despite my being here, I know little to nothing about transgendered people,” I admitted.

“No offense, Blaine, but that's not a huge revelation,” Violet said, winking before she sipped her martini to let me know she was teasing me.

“But didn't you have to show HR a driver's license or something?” I asked.

Violet replied in a patient tone of voice, like a teacher talking to an eight-year-old, “I don't drive, but the name on my license is Violet Medina. Female. Same name on my social security card. It's all legal. I wasn't trying to pull the wool over your eyes.”

“If you were, it would be a fashionable wool hat, I'm sure,” I joked. “But I hear you. It's like when Gavin said that people should be allowed to reveal their secrets on their own terms. I completely agree with that. Although recently, I've been told I can be intolerant to what I don't understand.”

Violet craned her neck to look at the dance floor, then turned back to me and said, “Daniel looks okay. I guess you didn't rip his face off for saying that. You're making progress.”

“I'm not that bad, am I?” I asked.

“I wouldn't have worked for you all this time if you were,” Violet assured me. “Nor would I go through all this trouble helping you deceive the gay media. How's it going?”

“It's tough. The deception is bad enough, but what's really difficult to deal with is Daniel. If it were anyone else, it would be a whole lot easier.”

“If it were anyone else, you probably wouldn't be going through all of this,” Violet pointed out. “Is it worth it?”

Before I could answer, Daniel walked up and said, “Hi. Hope I'm not interrupting anything serious.”

He was wiping sweat off his brow, as he'd been dancing nonstop since I left him to speak with Violet. His face was flushed and he smiled bashfully, obviously thinking he looked a mess. He looked fantastic, and I was painfully aware that I was staring at him, so I polished off the rest of my martini and said, “Violet was discussing the Deity line with me, letting me know that Josh is available to shoot ads this month as long as they're in New York.”

“Do you two ever stop working?” Daniel asked.