Gap Year - 25. Chapter 25

February 11, 2004

Bryant Park

New York, NY

Will

I’d had to almost throw a tantrum to get past the guard in front of Patrick’s tent, but he’d finally seen reason, or at least he decided I was harmless and that I would be a royal pain in the ass if he didn’t let me through. I walked through the area where the audience would be, checking out the catwalk, then strolled behind it to find things chaotic, to say the least.

Patrick was standing with a clipboard, trying to pull things together, which was ridiculous because he couldn’t do everything. I paused to watch him interact with people and smiled. He was a genuinely nice guy, he didn’t rant and rave, and the people who worked with him seemed to like him. He was usually organized, but in this situation, where he was trying to make last minute changes and corrections to his collection while keeping things together, it was clearly overwhelming him. I walked up to him and was in front of him before he saw me. “Morning,” I said, and held out my hand, asking for the clipboard.

He handed it to me and I smiled, because he was using the spreadsheet system I’d made for him last time. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” he said. He’d been blustery and agitated since I’d gotten here, but this time he finally relaxed.

“Want me to leave?” I asked.

“You look really good,” he said.

“It’s not me, it’s the designer,” I said, winking at him.

“That’s probably true,” he agreed, making me chuckle.

I looked beyond him to one of the sewing people that worked for him. “Hey Cher!” She was born in the 70’s, and her parents had evidently named her after the movie star.

“Will someone tell me what to do?” she asked caustically, exposing her New York roots.

“What’s our priority?” I asked Patrick.

He led us over to a model wearing a dress with a frill hanging down from the bottom. “I need this to be tacked up, so it runs along the bottom hem in a straight line and doesn’t land below.”

“Then that’s your job, Cher,” I said, then turned back to Patrick. “Let’s go.” We walked up and down the line of models, while Patrick made subtle changes, and I logged them on the form. After we were done, I prioritized the jobs for each of the people and then stuck to Patrick as he went over and over the models, generating even more tasks for me to organize and prioritize. It was one of those times when it felt strange to be as young as I was yet in a position to tell all these amazing professionals what to do. What was really cool was the way they sought me out for directions and seemed glad that I had gotten things under control.

I was updating my list when Patrick walked down to one end of the room to talk to someone about makeup. I was going to follow him, but I heard some commotion not far from me. “I did what I was supposed to do,” I heard Cher say loudly. I turned to find Cher and the model, both incredibly annoyed, staring at Tara.

“I don’t care what you were told to do, the fringe is supposed to hang down. It looks stupid like this,” Tara declared.

I was there, intervening, in a flash. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be,” I said, then looked at the dress. “You did a great job, Cher. I then studied the model, who was this tall skinny woman from Eastern Europe. She had this ‘look’ that was kind of pouting and slutty, which seemed pretty ridiculous to me. “It looks awesome on you.” She smiled then went back to her sexual pouting look.

“It’s not right, and it has to be fixed,” Tara asserted.

“Well, your name isn’t Patrick Christian, and last time I checked this wasn’t your show, so until either one of those things changes, leave these people alone to do their jobs,” I said firmly.

“Give me that,” she demanded, grabbing at my clipboard. She’d annoyed me enough to be bitchy. I held it up and away from her reach while I looked at Cher and the model.

“Should I give it to her?” I taunted.

“If I have to work for this bitch, I’m out of here,” Cher said. I laughed, and so did the model.

“I’m going to talk to Patrick,” Tara said in a haughty way, and strode off toward the other side of the room.

“Just because you’re a good model doesn’t mean you can run the world,” Cher said to the girl wearing the dress in question.

“Who says I can’t?” she asked, making us all laugh. We watched as Tara approached Patrick, they started arguing, then walked over to the side of the room argued some more.

“Cher, they need your help with the sleeves on number four,” I said, to try and distract attention from Patrick and Tara. “And I think they’re ready for you in make-up,” I said to the model. They wandered off, while I, not practicing what I preached, stared at Patrick and Tara.

“That looks intense,” one of the costumers said as he walked up and stood next to me. I thought of something for him to do, then forced myself to focus on my clipboard. I was so engrossed that I was surprised when Patrick came up to me.

“Looks like we’ll be ready,” he said optimistically.

“You OK?” I asked.

“Seems like every time you come to town, I lose a girlfriend,” he joked, making me laugh.

“Based on your taste in women, I’m doing you a favor,” I said. We resumed working, me with my trusty clipboard by Patrick’s side, and while I wasn’t surprised that he didn’t seem upset that he’d broken up with Tara, I was a little mystified as to why he seemed so happy about it.

A little after 10:45, when things seemed to be pretty much ready, Patrick smiled at me. “Time for you to go sit in the audience.”

“If you’re sure,” I said, beginning to argue.

“I’m sure,” he said. “And thank you. For everything.” Those last sentences were said with such sincerity it made me pause.

“You’re welcome,” I said. “I’ll see you at four.”

“I’m actually looking forward to it,” he said, which shocked the shit out of me. “It will help me get my shit together.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” I teased, then gave him a hug. What was supposed to be a quick, more formal gesture turned into a much longer, meaningful embrace.

I walked out the back of the room and around to the front and entered like distinguished visitors were supposed to, even though I was only distinguished because I was Stef’s grandson. I wound my way to a place in front of the catwalk and found Stef and Bellona Carter waiting to greet me. “We have been waiting for you,” he said.

“When two people as eminent as you are waiting for me, that is a huge compliment,” I said, sounding like I was Alex.

“You are as charming as your brother,” Bellona said.

“Which one?” I asked playfully.

“I was thinking of Darius,” she said, which made me chuckle. JJ wasn’t usually all that charming.

“I’m more charming than Darius, but he’s more fun,” I said. She blushed a bit, which was hilarious. I sat next to Stef and found Nicky Hilton on my other side, with Paris beyond her. I said hello to Nicky, then she whispered to Paris which resulted in them trading places.

“Where were you last night?” she asked.

“Went to the Marquee and it was dull as fuck,” I said.

“You probably got there too early,” she said. “Come to think of it, even later on it wasn’t as fun as the night before. You going out tonight?”

“Maybe,” I said. “What’s up?”

“I’ll text you,” she said. “What’s with this funky outfit. All black and gray with a big ass diamond.”

“Like you don’t like big ass diamonds,” I said. “Besides, aren’t you some farm girl now?” I was referring to the show she did with Nicole Richie: The Simple Life.

“That is so not my thing,” she said with disdain. “This next season we’re doing a road trip. I’m driving a pink pickup truck towing a trailer.”

“So you’re like a trucker?” I teased.

“I only have to drive when they’re filming,” she said. “We have to do all kinds of stupid shit.”

“Like what?”

“We have to catch crayfish and work as maids in a nudist resort,” she said, shaking her head.

“Maids at a nudist resort?” I asked and started laughing.

“Maybe the people there will be hot,” she said.

“As if,” I said, laughing some more. “They’ll probably be slobs. And besides, if they’re nudists, their sheets are probably nasty.”

She crinkled up her nose. “Do you sleep in the nude?”

“Yeah, and my sheets get nasty,” I said, my words dripping with innuendo. She playfully slapped me, then the show started, which was our cue to pay attention.

I watched the models, impressed with how good they’d looked, especially after being part of all the work to get the show together. It gave me a sense of pride to have been able to be part of it. Of course I was totally absorbed in the conversation that Stef and Bellona had after. “This was good, but I did not see the creative flair that Patrick is known for,” she said.

“It was a bit understated,” Stef agreed nervously.

“I get the impression that Patrick knows that, and he’s looking forward to fall when he can do something more avant-garde,” I interjected.

“I will be glad to see that,” Bellona said icily. She wasn’t happy with what he’d done, but she wasn’t annoyed either. Based on where his head had been, he was lucky to get a pass.

Patrick was all involved with talking to people, so I took the opportunity to bail. I walked back to the hotel to make a few phone calls, to take a nap, and to get out of the fucking cold. I was so sick of this weather, even though I knew Boston would only be worse when I got up there. Before I took my nap, I decided to dial K-Kris. It only rang twice before he answered. “Yeah?” he asked, his New York accent sounding much harder core than it had last night

“Hey Kris, it’s Will, the dude from the bar last night. I wanted to call and apologize…” I began.

“That was fucking raw,” he said with venom. “It’s not like I didn’t have my choice of dudes in the bar last night. It’s not like you’re the hottest shit around.”

“I know,” I said patiently. “I’m sorry about that.”

“And then you fucking embarrassed me because now everyone thinks my Rolex is fake? Fuck you!” I was kind of surprised he didn’t hang up after that, which told me this was as probably an act on his part.

“Look, I said I was sorry, but I’m not going to put up with a bunch of bullshit,” I said. He tried to interrupt me but I cut him off. “I was going to offer to buy you dinner if you weren’t a total asshole, and that would have had a lot better ending.”

“Like I’d want to go anywhere near you,” he said, almost snorting the words out.

“Assuming your phone isn’t fake too, you have my number. You get over your attitude, call me, and I may consider following through and buying you food,” I said, then hung up. Christ, why did everything have to be so fucking hard in this town? I decided that since Kris had already fucked up my day, I might as well get the bad shit over with: I called my father.

“Hello,” he said coldly as he answered, just to make sure I knew he was pissed at me.

“Hello,” I responded in the same way. “I thought about this, and I decided to make some changes to how we communicate.” I knew that would piss him off, and right now, that seemed like a fun thing to do.

“You treat me like shit when I call you and now you’re going to dictate to me?” he demanded loudly. I almost giggled out loud because he was keeping his voice just below the ‘yelling’ volume that was forbidden at Escorial.

“I am,” I said in a factual way. “You call me late at night when I’m out, and when I don’t answer, you call me back over and over again until I do.”

“I don’t think it’s unreasonable for you to answer your phone when I call,” he said.

“I do,” I disagreed. “I am not at your beck and call. So here’s the deal. If you call me between 10 in the morning and 11 at night in whatever time zone I’m in, I’ll answer or get back to you as soon as I can. But if you call me after 11pm and before 10am, it has to be an emergency.”

“I can’t just call you?” he asked, acting all offended, like I was putting major obstacles between us.

“No, you can’t,” I said.

“So if I call you after 11pm, you won’t answer my calls?” he demanded. “How is that any different?”

“Because if you call me after 11pm and it isn’t important, I will turn off my phone, and then you won’t be able to get in touch with me even if there is an emergency,” I said a bit too smugly.

“We can talk about this when you get home,” he said, which was his way of telling me he’d browbeat me about it later.

“We talked, we both know how it is,” I replied. “I’ll see you sometime next week.”

“See you then,” he said grumpily, and ended the call. I got back to the hotel, ordered room service, then crashed in the room Johnny was sharing.

I looked at my watch and it told me the time was 3:55. “He probably won’t even show up,” Johnny said. He was a study in contrasts: on the outside he looked stunning, but on the inside he was completely fucked up.

“He’ll be here,” I said soothingly.

“How do you know that?” he demanded.

“Because he told me he was looking forward to it,” I said.

“Looking forward to it? Looking forward to it?” he demanded, getting almost hysterical. “So he can call me a liar and make me feel like shit for something he did?”

“I suspect we will have the answer to those questions soon enough,” Grand said sagely, trying to convey some level of restraint on Johnny. Before Johnny could launch into another tirade, the bell rang. I got up to answer it while everyone just stared at me and the closed door.

I opened the door to let Patrick in. He recoiled from the hate vibes in the room, then swallowed nervously and let me guide him to the seating area. There were five chairs arranged around a circular center table. Stef and Grand sat together at one end, Johnny was to their right, Patrick was to their left, and I was across from them, between the two warring parties. Tom was in the corner, subtly out of the way, but within range if there was an actual fight. “I enjoyed your show this morning,” Stef said, to fill the silence with at least some conversation.

“Thanks,” he said. “Wasn’t my best, but hopefully fall will make up for it.”

“Drinks?” I asked, and ended up getting Cokes for me, Patrick, and Johnny.

I kind of expected Grand to start the conversation, but Patrick interceded and spoke to Johnny. “I really appreciate you agreeing to meet with me.”

“I’m really pissed at you,” Johnny growled.

“You have every right to be mad at me,” Patrick said. “I am so sorry for what happened.” I really hadn’t expected him to be so contrite, but Johnny wasn’t having it.

“You’re sorry,” Johnny sneered. “What the fuck? You pinned me down, you told me that you’d just put it in a bit, then you fucking ripped my ass open. You should be fucking sorry.”

“When you went over to Patrick’s condo, did you expect that there would be some sort of sexual encounter?” Grand asked Johnny.

“I wanted it? So it’s my fault?” Johnny asked, all outraged.

“I do not think that I was implying either of those things,” Grand said firmly. “I asked you a simple question.” His calmness seemed to stabilize Johnny a bit.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’d never been with a guy who was older and seemed experienced, and I figured that maybe it would be fun. I thought we’d blow each other and shit like that. I didn’t think he’d fucking rape me.”

“Thank you,” Grand said. “I was just trying to understand the initial part of your encounter.”

“Tell me this,” Johnny said to Patrick. “Tell me why you didn’t stop, even when I said ‘No.’ Tell me why you kept fucking me like I was just a hole. It was like you didn’t even know I was there.”

“I didn’t know you were there,” Patrick said softly. He’d been shedding tears since Johnny started yelling, so I handed him a tissue to wipe some of them away.

“What do you mean you didn’t know I was there? Who did you think you were fucking?” he demanded.

“Will,” Patrick said, and looked away from me. I sat there stunned and stared at Stef in total shock. He didn’t look any less surprised than I felt. Patrick’s statement totally freaked me out, since I’d suddenly been pulled into this whole awful encounter, and now I actually felt like I was one of the guilty parties.

“Yeah, I heard you call out his name,” Johnny scowled, then gave me a dirty look.

I was floundering, completely flummoxed by Patrick’s revelation. Why didn’t Johnny tell me Patrick had called out my name? Was Patrick some psycho, obsessed with me? What the fuck was going on with these two? “Perhaps we should take a short break,” Stef said, eyeing me.

“I think we should keep going,” I said, giving Stef an appreciative look for worrying about my feelings. A break would have been nice, but I wanted to get this over with.

“I guess we’re both young, we both have brown hair, and even though I’m way hotter, I guess you managed to convince yourself I was Will,” Johnny said, although a little more pleasantly than before. His basic point was spot on: there was no denying the similarities between us.

“Hotter, not way hotter,” I objected, to bring some levity into the room.

“My entire life I’ve been fighting my sexuality,” Patrick said. “When I was young, I told myself I was straight. Then when I was in college, I convinced myself I was bisexual. I kept that badge up until now. And now, I realize that I’m gay.”

“That is a journey many of us have made,” Grand said sympathetically.

“Not me,” I said jovially. “I’ve always known I’m gay, and I’m good at it.”

“So we hear,” Stef said.

“You’re trying to tell me you raped me because you were in the closet?” Johnny asked skeptically.

“My psychologist thinks that I repressed my feelings, and because you and Will look so familiar, I was able to fantasize that you were him,” Patrick said nervously.

“Sounds like a bunch of crap to me,” Johnny said. “I think you came to this big fucking epiphany just so you won’t have to feel bad about raping me.”

“Johnny,” Patrick said, looking at him with an intensity that was rare. “I feel like total shit about what happened. I’m really sorry that my issues spilled over to cause you so much pain. If I could go back and change things, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

Johnny grimaced, scowled, looked down for a bit, then looked up, then looked down again. It was like the wheels in his brain were turning, so we all gave him time to deal with things. After about two minutes, with an almost unbearable silence in the room, he looked up and stared straight at Patrick and said, “It’s all good.” That transformation in Johnny shocked me about as much as any other part of this conversation. In the end, I guess he just wanted a sincere and meaningful apology, and wanted Patrick to acknowledge his pain.

“What can I do to make things better for you?” Patrick asked. He was coming across to me as being very caring.

“I don’t know,” Johnny said. “I guess with Will’s deal, I end up owning my grandmother’s house in a few years. That was probably worth it.”

“I want to reach out to you, to be there if you need me, but at the same time I understand if you can’t stand the sight of me and don’t want me around,” Patrick said.

Johnny said nothing, so Grand stepped in. “I think that is a good idea, where you let Johnny initiate any contact he wants to have with you,” he said to Patrick.

“You are in a very competitive and cutthroat business, where it is easy to be exploited,” Stef added, directing that to Johnny. “I think it will be good to have Patrick as someone you could go to if you need help.”

“And I will never do that, or anything sexual to you ever again,” Patrick pledged. “I’ve mentally slotted you into the same category as my brothers.”

“Did you fuck them?” Johnny asked, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“No,” Patrick said, like that was an outrageous question. I mean he did come from Alabama. Wasn’t incest normal down there?

“Then I can work with that,” Johnny said. He stood up and walked over to Patrick and held out his hand. Patrick stood up and shook it, then Johnny turned to the rest of us. “Thanks for organizing this. I’m good. If you’re cool with it, I’m going to take a nap.”

“We were happy to help,” Grand said.

“You may treat that room as your own,” Stef said.

“Tomorrow is the closing, and then I can sleep at home,” he said with a slight smile, then vanished into the other room and closed the door.

Patrick stood there staring at the closed door, totally adrift. I got up and went over and grabbed his hand. “Come on,” I said gently, and led him into the other bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

“You must find me to be so disgusting,” he said, and now that we were alone, the tears started to flow. I walked up and hugged him, then slowly moved my hands up his back to his head. I guided his lips to mine, and when we kissed, I could feel the emotional train wreck that he was merging into me.

“Does it seem that way?” I asked, smiling.

“I, uh, I haven’t been with another guy since that incident,” he said nervously. In other words, he was too messed up to fuck me.

“Patrick, I would love to feel you inside me,” I said in my sexiest voice, and it was fun to see him swallow with lust. “When we have sex, it’s incredible.”

“It is,” he said, “but…”

“Right now, I’m here as your friend,” I said, putting my finger on his lips. “No pressure.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Do you mind if I take off and spend some time by myself?”

“You know what a booty call is?” I teased, getting an eye roll from him. “I’m number one on your list.”

“You are most definitely number one on my list,” he said. He gave me another nice kiss, then strode out of the bedroom and out of the hotel room.

I sat on the bed, pretty freaked out by all of this, and not least by Patrick just blowing me off. I mean, I’d jumped in and solved this major issue with Johnny that could have destroyed his career, I’d spent my morning working on his show which would have been way shittier if I hadn’t. Shit, wasn’t that at least worth a fuck? I guess it was all about him. Then I chided myself, thinking that he’d dealt with some pretty big issues, and in the end, he’d figured out that he was gay, not bisexual. I guess I’d assumed he’d want to prove his gayness. That made me chuckle a bit and started to pull me out of the pity party I was descending into. I decided that some physical effort was in order and was about to throw on some gym clothes when my phone rang. I almost laughed when I saw the caller-ID said it was Kris. “S’up,” I said casually, answering my phone.

“You called me to apologize and I was a dick,” he said.

“Both of those things are true,” I said, not letting up at all.

“You also said you’d take me out to dinner,” he said.

“I said that,” I agreed in the same factual way.

“Tonight at 7:00 at Cancilla’s,” he stated, almost like it was an order. I looked at my watch and saw that it was already 5:00. I’d been to that restaurant before with Carullo and JJ, so it was kind of nice that I knew what to expect there.

“I’ll meet you there at 7:30,” I said, partly as a power gesture, and partly because I needed the time.

“I don’t know if I can get a reservation at 7:30,” he said in kind of an obnoxious way.

“If you don’t have enough pull to make that happen, you want me to try?” I taunted. I could almost hear him gritting his teeth on the phone.

“7:30,” he said, and ended the call.

I walked out into the main area to find Stef and Grand looking at me curiously. “Patrick did not stay very long,” Stef noted.

“I thought he’d want to celebrate his newfound gayness, but I was wrong,” I said, like it didn’t bother me.

“I am sorry,” he said sympathetically.

“It’s no big deal,” I said, even though it kind of was. “I’ve got a dinner date at 7:30 and I need to go shopping for a Rolex before then.”

“You don’t waste any time,” Grand said, grinning at me.

“I don’t,” I agreed, then turned back to Stef. “Where should I go to buy a Rolex?” Stef thought about that for a second, then gave me the name of a jewelry store. I didn’t want to bother Johnny, so I went into the bathroom I’d used this morning and took a long shower, letting the water relax me, then put on a fresh T-shirt, the same clothes I’d been wearing, and a decent amount of cologne. By the time I was ready to leave, Grand and Stef had already vanished.

I was lucky that I’d ended up with the Maybach again, which cracked me up when I thought about how annoyed JJ must be that I’d all but taken over his car. I was even luckier that it was being chauffeured by one of the drivers I liked. I made him pledge that he’d stick with me this evening, and then got him to drop me off at the jewelry store.

“I’m looking for a Rolex watch,” I said to the nice lady who greeted me.

“Do you have a specific model in mind?” she asked.

“No, but I’ll know which one it is when I see it,” I said.

“Then let’s look,” she said, and led me over to their Rolex displays. I scanned the display case with a methodical pattern until I found the real watch that Kris’s fake was modeled after.

“That one,” I said, pointing at it.

“That’s very nice,” she said, pulling it out of the case. “A Rolex submariner in stainless steel with a blue face.”

I held it in my hand because that seemed like what I was supposed to do. I still thought it was unnecessarily big and gaudy. “Nice,” I said.

“It’s not as nice as the watch you’re wearing,” she said, gesturing to my white gold Patek Phillipe.

“I agree,” I said. “But this one’s not for me. I’ll take it.” I looked at my watch to indicate that I had limited time.

“That will be $7000,” she said. I handed her my credit card, and she came back with the charge slip, which was a little higher after taxes. “Would you like it gift wrapped? It will only take a few minutes.”

“Sure,” I said, noting that I probably had time for that. They were remarkably efficient, and in the end the wrapping only added ten minutes to my stop. I hurried out to the car, then sat back and relaxed my mind as we wound our way through the traffic to Little Italy. We pulled up to Cancilla’s five minutes late, but I decided that wasn’t rude, it was fashionable. Nonetheless I opened the door to the car myself, and hurried inside.