When You Don't See Me (32 page)

“I can more than match whatever Drayden's package is,” Gwendy said.

Roberto stared at the floor a minute and said, “I'm interested. I need to think about things. Also, there's somebody I'd want to bring with me. An illustrator who could help with the art design now and probably work with kids later.”

“I knew you'd be perfect,” Gwendy said. “You're already out-negotiating me. Right now, it's me, my board, and an assistant. Trust me, if either of you knows good people for me to interview and hire, I want to talk to them. Or Violet does.”

“I don't know why I didn't guess that Blaine and Violet would be involved in this,” I said.

“It'll be a wonderful memorial to Emily's mother,” Gwendy said. “I wouldn't dream of doing it without Blaine and Daniel's input and help.” She looked around with a bemused expression, as if she were trying to imagine Daniel and Blaine in such a dump. “Let's go find the others before Blythe burns the place down with her chain-smoking.”

As she walked toward the stairs, I held Roberto back to whisper, “Who were you talking about? What illustrator?”

“Morgan, of course.” He laughed at my dumbfounded expression. “All these months, and you still know almost nothing about her.”

“I know enough to question whether she should work with children. I've always figured she probably eats them.”

“Then maybe you shouldn't have been stealing food from her,
mijo,”
he said, laughing again as he followed Gwendy.

I
'd gotten a call from Uncle Blaine the day after Christmas. He'd decided at the last minute to throw a New Year's Eve party and invited me to come with as many guests as I wanted to bring. I didn't have firm plans, so I gave him a noncommittal answer. When a few of my friends were at Cutter's trying to make plans for the holiday, I tentatively mentioned Blaine's invitation. I didn't think anyone would want to attend a party thrown by an advertising executive who was in his “thirty-something” era. But other than Adalla, who would be in Texas on New Year's Eve, they surprised me by agreeing wholeheartedly.

When I mentioned my surprise on the way to the party, Morgan cynically stated, “They're all hoping to rub against models and famous people.”

“And you're going because why?” Roberto teased.

“Someone has to keep you kids in line,” she answered.

“You borrowed Red Kitty's riding crop?” I asked.

“Very funny,” Morgan replied. She turned the cab's rearview mirror toward her and reapplied her lipstick.

Our driver turned the mirror back into place and loudly said, “Don't touch the mirror. Don't touch anything. Do not make me put you out of my cab.”

“Do not pass ‘Go.' Do not collect two hundred dollars,” I mumbled. I wondered how Samir Singh was celebrating the new year.

“Sorry! Gosh,” Morgan muttered. “You don't have to be such an asswipe about it.”

“I freely admit I'm going to this party so I can meet famous people,” Kendra said. “If I'm going to be a producer someday, I need to start networking.”

“Don't producers usually have money?” Roberto whispered in my ear. I elbowed him in the ribs.

“I've never met anyone famous before,” Kendra continued. “Unless you count Ellie Waltham from Trenton.”

“What about that party for Hugh Jackman?” I asked.

“Who's Ellie Waltham?” Roberto asked.

“She did the weather report back in Trenton,” Kendra explained. “But that's not all she did!”

Roberto, Morgan, and I watched the cabdriver. He was glancing expectantly at Kendra's reflection in the rearview mirror, obviously waiting to hear what else Ellie had done. I finally added to his misery by pointing at the corner of Broadway and Twenty-third Street and saying, “You can let us out here.”

Uncle Blaine's party was in the loft he'd purchased for his ad agency. It took up the entire floor of a converted warehouse. We stepped off the elevator into a cavernous and raw space. Christmas lights had been wound around a balcony that ran the perimeter of the space. They provided just enough light for me to see that the place was packed with people. The only person I immediately recognized was a DJ from Club Chaos, who was spinning from a makeshift stage made out of packing crates.

“Do you see Melanie? Blythe?” I shouted to the others, trying to be heard above the music and noise. “Isaiah and Luis?”

Kendra and Morgan both shook their heads and shrugged. Roberto snapped his cell phone shut and said, “I can't get a signal. Let me try yours.”

I handed him my phone. He motioned to a window across the room and wandered toward it while dialing.

“We're going to find the bar,” Kendra said.

“There's no bar, baby,” a woman next to us said. She pointed with her beer bottle and said, “There's trash cans filled with beer on ice by the DJ booth, and a table with the hard stuff next to that. Mix your own.”

“Thanks,” Morgan said. She looked at me. “Do you want anything?”

“Not yet,” I answered.

I went in search of Roberto and overheard someone saying, “I can't stand this shit!”

“That's
exactly
why I want to sell the club,” a familiar voice answered. I pushed forward through the crowd and saw Andy Vanedesen talking to a gigantic drag queen who was dressed in a kimono.

“What? You smell a shrub?” the drag queen asked. “This place could use some greenery. You'd think Daniel would've—”

“No!” Andy interrupted. “The club! I'm
selling
the
club.”

“You're selling Club Chaos?”

“Keep it down!” Andy shouted. “It's not public knowledge yet.”

“What's not, honey?”

“That I'm selling the club!” Andy screamed. “Honestly, Brenda Li, you've got to stop huffing the Aqua Net.”

Brenda Li patted her wig. Then she spotted me. Suddenly I was surrounded by folds of printed silk and my cheeks were being pinched. “What a shayna punim! Look at the doll face on this one.”

Andy pulled me free and hugged me. Brenda Li pouted before gliding into the crowd. I leaned toward Andy's ear and asked, “Why are you selling Club Chaos?”

Andy's mouth fell open. “Who told you?”

“I overheard you yelling at what'shername. Brenda Li.”

“Oh. Don't repeat this to anyone, but I'm getting up in years. It's time to try something new. Something quieter. Running a club is
such
an aggravation. The drama, the payoffs, the
noise
—I've had it. Let someone else deal with it. What about you? What's new with you?”

“Nothing much,” I answered. “Have you seen my uncle? Or Daniel?”

“They're somewhere in this sea of filth. I don't know. Do you know what time it is?”

“Another hour until midnight.”

Andy groaned and said, “Oh, dear Lord. I need another drink.”

After Andy walked away, Roberto materialized out of the crowd and handed my phone to me. “Here. Melanie got stuck in traffic. On the plus side, I got some choice photos of that drag queen kissing your forehead.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Is there lipstick on my face?”

Roberto spat on his thumb and wiped it above my eyebrow. “Not anymore.”

“Gross,” I said, batting at his hand.

We avoided the center of the loft, where everyone was dancing, and wound through the crowds, looking for Kendra and Morgan, as well as anyone else we knew.

“I see your uncle invited a thousand of his closest friends,” Roberto said.

“I've never seen half these people before in my life,” I replied. “But I guess if everyone you invite brings a friend, then—” I broke off when I saw Blythe and Daniel huddled in a dark corner of the loft. Blythe was passing her cigarette to Daniel, who took furtive puffs from it every so often. I snuck up behind him and said, “Busted!”

He jumped and dropped the lit cigarette on Blythe's hair. She screamed and swatted at her head, causing the cigarette to bounce off a nearby woman's ass and onto the floor. Daniel stamped it out and brushed off the woman's butt. When she turned around, he said, “Honey, your ass is smokin'!”

She wasn't amused, but Roberto and I were. We laughed openly at Daniel.

“If you tell Blaine I was smoking, I'll tell him about that time I walked in on you and—”

“Okay!” I yelped.

“Is my hair on fire?” Blythe asked. “I don't do performance art.”

“You're fine,” Daniel said.

“I heard a rumor that Andy's selling Club Chaos,” I said, hoping to change the subject.

“Oh, please,” Daniel said. “At the start of every year, it's the same tired story from him.”

“Maybe this year, that dinosaur will actually retire,” Martin said, wrapping his arms around my chest from behind. When I turned to look back at him, he said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said and grinned.

“Stop molesting my…nephew, son, or whatever he is,” Daniel said.

“We're not related,” I said.

“Oh. In that case.” Daniel stepped forward with a lascivious grin and outstretched arms, then turned away and said, “Ew. No. Can't do it. So wrong.”

“Where's Blaine?” I asked.

“Speaking of so wrong,” Martin said.

“He's over there,” Daniel said, pointing to the center of the room. I saw my uncle in a deep discussion with his assistant, Violet Medina, who was nodding at whatever he was saying while taking notes on her BlackBerry. “The life of the party, as usual.”

“How do you feel about all this?” I asked, gesturing to the loft.

“It's going to be great for him,” Daniel answered. “Whatever he wants, I'm behind him all the way.”

“That's not what I heard,” Martin said.

Daniel said, “Just because he looks like a top—”

I put my hands over my ears and loudly sang “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” Roberto pulled my hands down and said, “I'm getting a beer. You want?”

“I want,” Martin said, linking his arm in Roberto's. As they walked away, I heard Martin say, “You look just like a roommate I had once.”

“When are you going to L.A.?” I asked Daniel.

He gave me a blank look and said, “To see Sheila?”

“No. I heard you're going to be a resident in
The See-List House.
”

He smiled and said, “I already did that. Last fall. It airs in a couple of months.”

“Oh. I didn't realize. Did you really slap Alison Arngrim?”

“Wouldn't you slap Nellie Oleson, if you had the chance?” he asked.

“Who's Nellie Oleson?” Blythe asked.

“You,” he said, pointing at Blythe, “leave this party. Now.”

“I can't believe you slapped someone,” I said.

“It was scripted,” he explained. “It was the producers' idea. Alison and I pretended to get into a fight. I slapped her, which caused major drama and got me kicked out of the house. It'll get good ratings. In return, the producers agreed to let Alison and me do a series of specials for their network about AIDS. Everyone wins.”

He had to move closer to me to let three drag queens get by us. He took in every detail of their appearance as they walked away; then his expression turned to one of approval.

I watched them, too, and finally said, “How does anyone know what's real?”

“Sweetie, they are
people,”
he said with a frown.

“Not them. You didn't seriously slap Alison Arngrim. Blaine didn't actually get fired. Andy won't really sell his club.” I thought about my roommates and then, in a sudden moment of sadness, about Fred. “Sometimes you think you know people, but they're carrying around all these secrets. How does anyone know what's real?” I repeated.

Daniel looked at me, and then his gaze went back to Blaine. He smiled. “It's all real. The beauty and the grime. The truth and the lies. What we have, and what we're missing. When life throws shit at you—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “Use it as manure in your garden.”

“I need new lines,” he grumbled.

“Do you ever worry?”

“I'm a Virgo,” he said. “I always worry. About what in particular?”

“Like when the soap bought out your contract, did you worry you wouldn't work again?”

Daniel nodded slowly, giving it some thought before he said, “Sometimes. No matter what you're doing, whatever profession, you create your own opportunities in life.”

“Sometimes opportunity knocks,” I said, thinking about Jisella's offer.

“That's true, too,” Daniel agreed. “No matter how badly things can suck—and they will, from time to time—the thing to remember about life is that it's always full of possibilities. As long as you're not hurting anyone, you can do anything you want to, Nick. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” I said.

“I'm going to get a drink and save your poor roommate from Martin's wandering fingers. Need anything?”

I declined. Daniel gave me a hug and wished me a happy new year before waving to someone and walking away. I climbed a staircase to the balcony and looked at the mass of people below. I finally located Isaiah and Luis in animated conversation with a group of people I didn't recognize. Then I spotted Gavin and Ethan slow-dancing in the center of the room. Ethan's head rested on Gavin's shoulder as they swayed to the music, until Gavin said something and sent Ethan into a fit of laughter.

Near them, Kendra was dancing with a man I'd never seen before. He was tall, strikingly handsome, and looked like he'd been shipped in from Italy for the party. His hands never left Kendra's waist as they danced. She looked as though that Ed McWhoever guy had just showed up at her door and handed her a giant check.

Morgan was sitting on a window seat alone, her back to the room so she could frown down at Manhattan. Every time someone sat next to her, she slowly moved her head and stared until they became visibly uncomfortable and left. Then she went back to looking out the window. But when Roberto walked up and offered her a beer, she actually smiled and accepted it. They clinked the necks of their bottles together, and she moved over so he could sit next to her. Roberto pointed toward the crowd and mimicked someone dancing badly. The two of them began laughing. It was strange to see her laugh. It was even stranger to realize that I'd come to find her adorable even when she didn't laugh. She'd be repulsed to hear that description of herself.