Smile Like You Mean It - 1. One

Chapter 1

“Come on,” Shane said. “It will be fun.”

“No, it won’t be.”

“It’s for charity.”

Shane sat on one end of a long sofa staring at Bruno curled up at the other end. Bruno was long and lean with a mop of tightly curled auburn haired pulled back in a low pony tail from which it always seemed to be escaping; he was wearing a vintage Farrah Fawcett tee shirt over dark, tight jeans. Oxblood oxfords worn sans socks completed the look. Shane had stopped by the other’s home design boutique to deliver a painting to replace one that had recently sold.

Once they had hung the replacement, Shane had pounced on his main reason for stopping by: to convince his old friend, who was also a retired go go boy, to help plan and to perform for a fundraiser.

“Nobody wants to see my old, saggy ass in g-string. Not for charity or for any other reason,” Bruno declared.

“29 is hardly old.”

“Whoa, bitch, that’s cold. It’s 28, and you know it. You were just at my birthday party.”

“And your ass isn’t THAT saggy. I mean you always use one of those butt bras Madonna’s been wearing lately.”

Bruno picked up one of the many pillows from the sofa and threw it at his friend, who batted it away.

“Seriously, we need a few more guys. We have plenty of female burlesque entertainers and drag queens, but most of our potential donors are gay men, so I think we need more nearly naked men on stage to appeal to our crowd. Can’t you pull out one of your old boylesque routines? And don’t pretend you're modest….I’ve seen you in action, remember? And it’s for a good cause.”

“Alright,” Bruno sighed. “What is the charity again?”

Shane smiled, his blue-green eyes shining, knowing he had won. “It’s called the Amanda Brooks Home. Or it will be. It’s going to be a shelter for homeless LGBTQ teens.”

“Well, shit. If I didn’t strip for that, I guess I’d be a real asshole,” Bruno said a grin splitting his neatly trimmed beard as he pulled his thick auburn curls back into a low pony tail in a pointless attempt to tame his unruly locks..

“Of course,” Shane said with a matching grin, “even after stripping for the fundraiser you’ll still be a real asshole, but at least a real asshole who’s helping others.”

“Nice. You kiss your husband with that mouth.”

“Often.” Shane chuckled, “But seriously, thanks. And I have another favor. We’re having a planning meeting for the fundraiser tomorrow night. Since you’ve had experience putting on burlesque shows, I think you could be a big help.”

“That was years ago. Now I am a respectable shopkeeper.”

“Shopkeeper, yes,” Shane agreed looking around the rooms of the converted Craftsman style house that were filled with an eclectic mix of home decor items, ranging from new, expensive upholstery to items Bruno had rescued from the street and refurbished. “But respectable? I’m not sure.”

“Bitch,” Bruno said without heat as his untangled his long limbs and rose from his end of the linen covered sofa. “Want some tea? I’m about to make a pot.”

“No, thanks. I’d love some, but I need to get home and start dinner. Jason will be home from work in an hour or so.”

“How domesticated.”

“I know, right?” Shane said, his face beaming as it broken into a wide smile. “You should try it. It’s pretty fantastic.”

“Maybe one day.”

“So, you’ll go tomorrow?” Shane pleaded. “I can pick you up at 7.”

“Fine, I’ll go. But only because it’s for a good cause. And cause selling your work makes me money. I guess I have to keep the talent happy.”

“Bye,” Shane said, kissing the taller man on the cheek before heading out.

The next evening, Bruno stood on the porch of the building that housed both his shop as well as the studio apartment above he called home when Shane pulled up. Soon, they were driving past Bayou St. John, the lowering sun glinting off the water, the June arm hot and humid outside the car.

Bruno asked Shane, “So exactly where are we going?”

“To Loren Hunt’s, the founder of the charity. He used to be one of Victor’s attorneys. He lives in Holy Cross. Loren may be a lawyer, but he’s one of the good guys, does a lot of pro bono work. His rich aunt died a few months ago, and he’s using his inheritance to start a charity in her name. She’s the Amanda Brooks.”

“Wow,” Bruno said. “That’s impressive. Giving away a fortune. I don’t think I would have it in me.”

“Well, in the first place, he’s done very well for himself as a lawyer, so he doesn’t really need more money, but the deal is, his parents kicked him out when he was a teenager, and he went to his aunt for help, and she gave it, way more than he expected. She gave him a place to live, pulled some strings to get him into college early, paid for his education, helped him get started. And he wants to pay that forward.”

Bruno sat silently for a moment. He had heard plenty of stories like that over the years. Parents disowning their children, kicking them out, throwing them away like garbage. He couldn’t imagine it. His own childhood hadn’t been perfect. His father had died when he was only a small child, and there had been years of struggle for his and mom. But yet….his mom had always had his back, had been his rock. Though he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate the phrasing, she had always urged him to fly his freak flag proudly, not giving a damn what others thought about him. His coming out to her had only been met with more love and acceptance; his extended family had been likewise supportive.

Without really thinking, Bruno spoke out loud. “I don’t understand how anyone could do that. Just kick your kid out. I just don’t.”

“At least I was an adult when my dad disowned me,” Shane said softly. “It still sucked, but being 20 was better being 17.”

“Shit,” Bruno said, laying a hand on Shane’s arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“To quote Whitney, ‘It’s not right, but it’s okay,’” Shane said with a sad smile. “Anyway, that was a while ago, and everything’s worked out. Better than I could have hoped. But that’s why I agreed to work with Loren. I want to help the ones who can’t help themselves, who don’t even have hope.”

After that, silence reigned, until Shane pulled up in front of the house, and impeccably restored two and ½ story Victorian house. Not quite large enough to be a mansion, it was still of imposing size and sat near enough the river, that Bruno could smell the water, and a cool breeze blew over them from the levee.

“Wow, this is nice,” Bruno said as they passed through the wrought iron gate into the lushly landscaped yard, full of birds of paradise, banana trees, and lilies of the nile. “I guess you’re right that he did okay for himself.”

“Wait til you see the inside,” Shane said, walking ahead of Bruno up the stairs onto the small porch. He pressed an intricately carved bronze door bell that was crafted in the shape of a mermaid. Through the leaded glass of the mahogany door, a distorted figure could be seen moving toward them.

The door swung open revealing an attractive man In his forties. He was of medium height, quite slim, with silver hair that enhanced his startling blue eyes.

He smiled, greeting Shane with a hug. “Great to see you, Shane,” he said. “And this must be Bruno.”

Bruno smiled in greeting and held out his right hand. Loren waved it aside, stepping forward to hug the younger man. “Forget the handshake. Anybody coming to help me with my pet project gets a hug.”

After the greetings were completed, Loren stepped inside, holding the door open for the other two to follow him in. Bruno paused for a moment and whistled.

“Wow,” Bruno said. “This is great.”

The house was a beautiful blend of the old and the new. Pale neutral walls and modern upholstery mixing with gleaming original woodwork, antique casegoods, and colorful contemporary art. The foyer was large, with an ornate staircase running along the right wall. Pocket doors to the left revealed a formal parlor, while another pair further along opened to what Bruno assumed was the formal dining room. Straight ahead in the den, he could see a glimpse of the garden through a bank of French doors.

“Well,” Shane said, holding up the tote in his hand. “I brought the nibbles for the meeting. Loren, why don’t you show Bruno around while I set them up. I know where everything is.”

“Sounds good,” Loren said, gesturing Bruno toward the parlor.

Bruno spent a minute taking it all in, but his attention was caught by a striking portrait over the mantle. It showed a lovely dark haired woman with incredibly large, sapphire eyes. Bruno’s eyes narrowed as he studied the signature: Keane. He stepped closer.

“Surely that’s not…. A Margaret Keane,” he said turning to Loren, who was grinning widely.

“Yes it is. That’s my aunt, Amanda. She saw the portrait Ms. Keane did of Joan Crawford and had to have one of herself. She got one of the many men besotted with her to pay for it no doubt.”

“Well, it’s fantastic. So, how accurate is it?”

“You be the judge,” Loren said, turning to pull a framed photo from a nearby table.

The painting was highly stylised, and the woman in the photo looked quite different, though still recognizable as the subject. In any case, she was stunning, a mix of Sophia Loren and Elizabeth Taylor, with a bit of Raquel Welch thrown in for good measure. Dark hair in a bouffant mane, huge blue eyes, if not quite as enormous as those in the portrait, cleavage for days, and all enhanced by a blue velvet dress cut down to there and wearing an enormous jeweled pendant.

“I have to say, I don’t think the portrait does her justice,” Bruno said, handing it back.

Loren smiled fondly at the image as he replaced on the table. “You’re right. But as beautiful as she was, she was just as kind and good natured. I don’t know if Shane told what she did for me, but….she saved my life and she changed my life. She passed away a few months ago, and I miss her terribly.”

Bruno, a bit uncomfortable with the personal nature of the conversation, sought for a distraction. Luckily he found one in the large photo over the mantle in the dining room that was visible through the cased opening of the parlor.

As he walked closer to it, he asked, “And who is this?”

The digitally enhanced photo, somewhat in the style of David LaChapelle, showed a raven haired beauty in a pose familiar to anyone from New Orleans. She stood, a Mardi Gras queen on a staircase, the train of her elaborate costume trailing down the stairs below her, her scepter raised high in one hand, a sheaf of lilies in the other. Squinting, Bruno moved a little close...that staircase looked familiar….

Loren chuckled. “Can’t you guess?”

Bruno knew, he turned, gasping, “It’s you.”

“I was Queen of the Eros krewe a few years ago. Aunt Amanda insisted I be Cleopatra. In fact she designed the costume. I think she was more excited than I was.”

“Well, you look fantastic. Was this a one off or are you into drag?”

“I used to perform quite a bit in my younger days, but now it’s just the occasional Halloween costume or Mardi Gras ball.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Shane said, walking into the rooms with glasses of white wine he handed to the two other men. “He has a whole room upstairs devoted to his drag.”

“True,” Loren said. “ But to be honest, most of it was Aunt Amanda’s. She was a clothes horse with very expensive tastes and gave me most of her castoffs when she found out I was doing drag in college. There are some actual couture dresses up there. Some Dior, Givenchy, St. Laurent. I couldn’t bear to get rid of them. And especially since the fire, I’m glad I didn’t.”

“Fire?” Bruno asked.

Loren smiled sadly. “That’s how she died. A house fire. Apparently a space heater ignited. I warned her about those…..” He sighed.

Bruno thought desperately for a new topic, cursing himself for asking about the fire. His prayers were answered; at that moment the doorbell sounded, announcing the arrival of rest of the expected guests gathering to discuss the upcoming fundraiser..

A couple of months later, wearing little more than body glitter, Bruno stood next to Shane and Shane’s husband, Jason, in the crowded hotel ballroom that had been the site of the fundraiser.

“How did I let you talk me into this again?” Bruno asked Shane for the millionth time before yelping as a passerby pinched his gold lame’ clad behind.

“Because it’s for charity, because you have a big heart..”

Before Shane could finish, Jason broke in, “....because you’re an exhibitionist?”

Bruno pretended to glare at him, before turning back to Shane. “And why weren’t you in glittery underpants shaking your groove thing in an attempt to make a better world?”

“I,” Shane said, stepping closer to hug his husband who immediately wrapped an arm around the shorter man’s shoulder, “am a respectable married man who only shows his husband my glittery underpants and groove thing. Besides, I did my part. I contributed a painting to the silent auction.”

“Okay, fine. Final question; why I am still half naked?”

“Because, we all decided, including you, that it would feel more festive for the donors if the performers stayed in costume for a bit after the show. You know a bit of flesh makes people reach for their wallets faster,” Shane answered.

“Besides,” another voice cut in as thin, short, platinum blond man walked up to the group, “we all know you love the attention, so stop trying to pretend otherwise.”

“Wow, Casey,” Bruno said. “Way to support a friend and fellow shopkeeper.”

“Looks like you have plenty of support,” Casey said, reaching over as if to bounce Bruno’s package.

Bruno jerked back to avoid Casey’s hand, jostling into a tall man passing behind him.

“Sorry,” Bruno said, glancing at the stranger, a handsome, dark haired man with blue eyes.

“Don’t be,” the man said with a rakish grin. “You have my permission to knock into me anytime you’d like.” He gave a wink before passing onward. Bruno was still gazing at him when a vision in rich brocade and gleaming satin joined the group.

“You were wonderful,” the beauty said, hugging Bruno before turning to Shane. “And thank you, too. This night wouldn’t have been possible without y’all. Even before tallying the silent auction, I know we’ve raised a lot of money.”

Before either could answer, Casey gasped. “Oh my god, is that St. Laurent, the Russian Collection you’re wearing?”

The lady smiled. “Why yes it is. Good eye.”

“Casey,” Bruno said, “This is our host, or hostess, Loren Hunt. He’s the founder of this charity. Loren, this is Casy. He owns a vintage clothing store, and you will not be surprised to learn: he lives for fashion.”

“Nice to meet you, Casey. My aunt gave me this She loved clothes, and men loved her, and they loved to buy her clothes so everyone was happy.”

“If only we could all be so lucky,” Casey said wistfully.

At this point, Bruno excused himself from the group to return backstage and change. He had enjoyed performing again, and grudgingly to himself, he admitted he had liked the attention he had received afterwards, but he was tired of being groped and ogled and ready to put on some clothes. Dodging guests, other performers and the waiters passing with appetizers and flutes of champagne, he finally managed to make it to the small corridor in the back that lead to the backstage area. As he emerged wearing a tee printed to look like a tux jacket over vintage tuxedo trousers that Casey had found for him, a hand grabbed him from behind, powerful fingers digging into Bruno’s upper arm.

“Jesus,” Bruno exclaimed, turning around to face his assailant and trying, but failing to break free. “What the…?” The words died as he realized who his attacker was.

“Let me go, Sammy,” Bruno snarled between gritted teeth. “Or I’ll drive my knee so far up your crotch you’ll be burping your balls for weeks.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the other man said, releasing his hold. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

The other man was beautiful. Of medium height, he was powerfully built; the uniform of fitted black dress shirt and black slacks showed off a toned and muscular frame. The color also flattered his olive skin and ebony hair; Sammy’s hair was so black, the highlights gleamed almost blue.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Sammy repeated. “You blocked my calls, I can’t reach you.”

“I blocked you for a reason. We’re over. Done. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“But I love you,” Sammy pleaded, huge dark brown eyes growing liquid with emotion. “Can’t we talk about that….how I feel for you.”

Bruno sighed. “Maybe you do love me….but in any case, you loved your closet more. And has that changed?”

“You know it’s not that easy for all of us,” Sammy said, his finely chiseled features darkening. “Not everyone tells their family that they’re a faggot and it’s all smiles and hugs. I can’t come out. Not now.”

“Well,” Bruno said stepping back. “Then nothing has changed, and I was right that there is nothing to talk about.” He abruptly spun and charged from the corridor, ignoring Sammy’s anguished cry. In his haste to avoid his ex, Bruno slammed into another man, tall and dark.

The guy stumbled, and when he turned Bruno saw it was the same man from earlier.

The stranger smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“Sorry,” Bruno said, flushed with emotion from embarrassment as well as his meeting with Sammy.

“Don’t apologize. I did give you permission to bump into me when ever. Still, if this is going to be a habit, maybe we should introduce ourselves. I’m Sebastian Cain, but call me Seb.”

“Bruno Vignau,” Bruno said, extending his hand.

“NIce to meet you Bruno,” Seb said, his handshake warm and firm. He held Bruno’s hand just a bit longer than necessary before releasing it. Then his smiling eyes shifted a bit before returning to Bruno’s dark brown ones.

“I see someone I need to talk to,” Seb said. “But I’d definitely like to get to know you better. I’m new in town and need someone to show me the ropes.” He fished in his breast pocket and pulled out a card. “Give me a call when you get a chance. It was great to meet you.”

Seb flashed a smile showing a set of gleaming white teeth before plunging into the crowd. Bruno studied the card a bit before pocketing it. He hadn’t dated in the 6 months since his breakup with Sammy. Maybe it was time to climb back on that horse. At any rate, after his encounter with his ex, Bruno knew one thing: he needed a drink, so he fought his way to the bar.

An hour or so later, Bruno had had his fill of the gala; in truth, the evening had turned sour the moment he had run into Sammy, though Bruno had been luckily enough to avoid him since their earlier encounter.

Bruno had loved the other man, or at least thought he had. His feelings had been strong enough to ignore every one’s warnings about the perils of dating someone deeply in the closet. Bruno had trusted in love being enough to win through. It hadn’t, and the breakup had been brutal.

Taking leave of his friends, but unable to find Loren to say goodbye, Bruno headed out into the steamy night. It was August, and the heat and humidity were brutal. Waiting for the cab, Bruno heard his named being called. Tensing, thinking that it was Sammy again, he turned. It was not.

Loren, face scrubbed clean and now changed into an exquisitely tailored white dinner jacket was headed his way.

“You’re not leaving so early?”

“I’m tired,” Bruno said, not wanting to do into his real reasons for leaving.

“It’s a pity. The party's just getting started. But I’m glad I got a chance to say goodbye before you left. And thank you again. Your help was invaluable.”

“No worries. It’s a great cause. And I’m on board for the next event.”

“Good,” Loren said, a smile on his lean, handsome face as he stepped closer to Bruno. “I’m going to mix seeing you. In fact, I was hoping maybe we could go out to dinner some night?”

It took Bruno a minute to realize what was happening, to realize Loren was asking him on a date. Six months of a dating desert, and now multiple men were throwing themselves at him in one evening. Okay, he thought, maybe throwing themselves at me is an exaggeration, but it’s good to know I’ve still got it. I was starting to worry.

“Sure,” Bruno said with an answering smile. Loren was attractive, philanthropic, sophisticated. A date with him sounded like a great time.

“I’ll give you a call and we can work out a time,” Loren said. He leaned forward, surprising Bruno with a kiss. It was quick, a mere brush of the lips, but it still felt nice. At that moment, the cab pulled up, honking.

“That’s me,” Bruno said, pulling back. “But dinner sounds great. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” said Loren, opening the door to the cab’s backseat for Bruno.

As the cab pulled away, Bruno look back to see Loren waving. He noticed something else. Standing behind Loren was Sammy, a glowing cigarette in his hand and a look of malice on his face.