Alex in Wonderland (The Wonderland Series Book 1) (15 page)

24

Revelations

“Darling, I’m so sorry. I feel like
it’s all my fault.”

“Don’t say that, Mama,” Alex chided
sweetly. “Everything that’s happened is a result of my decisions and actions.
Both my running away and my coming home.”

Alex was rejuvenated after a
two-hour nap, the last of his mental cobwebs swept away as he and his mother
shared a late breakfast. He was further renewed by the richness of
pain
perdu,
the Creole version of French toast he’d loved since boyhood. The day
was so inviting that they dined on the terrace, and Alex tried not to think
about Key West as a warm breeze
stirred some nearby palms.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged
you to run off like that,” Karen persisted.

Alex smiled. “To the contrary. You
should’ve kicked me out years ago.”

Karen touched a fingertip to her lips,
a sign to be silent while Jedediah refreshed their coffee. The old man had been
the Sumner butler and driver for years, and when Karen married into that family
she quickly learned his loyalties lay with her husband and that everything she
said and did was duly reported. She continued talking only after Jedediah was
gone.

“What exactly happened down in Florida,
son? Can’t you tell me anything?”

“There’s really not much to tell.”
Alex couched the truth as always and wondered if he could ever be totally honest
with his mother. “I took the bus as far as Sugarloaf Key, just this side of Key
West. Some guy recognized me from Daddy’s CNN blitz
and blew the whistle. Last night the company jet swooped in to pick me up and
voila!”
He sipped his coffee. “Here I am.”

Karen slid aside the magnolia
blossom centerpiece so she could see him better. She squinted in the bright
light “You look different to me, darling. As though something profound happened
during that hiatus. Was it a learning experience of some sort?”

Her intuition was uncanny, Alex
thought, and not a little unnerving.

“Oh, I learned something alright. I
learned that whether I travel to Tibet
or Timbuktu, Daddy’s going to find
a way to drag me back home.” He forked a piece of yellow toast. “Do you know he
hasn’t asked what happened, or even why I left? All he cares about is putting
things back the way they were. He even made me call Camilla this morning, as
though he never heard me say I don’t want to marry her.”

Karen leveled a provocative gaze.
“Why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Oh, Mom!” Alex laughed. “If I
broke the engagement Daddy would make good his threat and cut me off without a
cent.”

“Would that really be so bad?”

Alex’s spirits sank. “If you’d
asked that the night I left this house, I would’ve said no. Something else I
learned when I ran off is that I’m not very good at taking care of myself. I
never got the chance to find out if I could earn a living without Daddy’s help,
but considering all that happened, I probably couldn’t.”

Karen reached across the table and
took his hand. “For heaven’s sake, son. Something
did
happen to you!”

“Yes, it did,” Alex confessed. “As
a result, I’ve got a lot of soul-searching to do and as much as I’d like to
confide in you, there’s only one person in the world I can talk to.”

“Jolie?”

Alex grinned, eyebrows rising. “My
mom, the mind-reader!”

“He’s a very nice man. We managed
to sneak a couple of chats while you were gone, and he was as concerned for
your welfare as me.” She took his hand. “It’s alright, Alex. I think I
understand why you need to talk to him. Jolie’s a good friend, and I’d very
much like to meet him sometime.”

“I promise I’ll arrange it.” Alex
wondered what his mother would say if he told her she’d already met Jolie as
Tatiana Yussupov. “I called Jolie right after Daddy left for work. I’m going
down to the Quarter right after lunch.”

“Easier said than done,” Karen
warned.

“Why not? Daddy sent his goons home
last night, and—”

“After you went back to bed, a half
dozen news teams camped on the front lawn. You’ll never get past them without
an interview, and I know you’re not up for that.”

Alex’s spirits sank. “You’re
right.”

She squeezed his hand. “But that
doesn’t mean we can’t run the gauntlet.”

“What do you mean?”

“That big trunk in my Caddy can’t be
too uncomfortable, for a short period of time anyway. I’ll drop you off at
Jolie’s house and do some shopping in the Quarter while you two are talking.”
She rolled her eyes. “If you’re truly going through with this sham of a
wedding, I want a shamefully outrageous hat for the occasion. What better place
to find one than
Fleurs de Paris
on

Alex knew his mother
disapproved of Camilla but hadn’t expected such a potent indictment of the
marriage, not to mention a plan to smuggle him through the army of reporter.
“You sure are full of surprises this morning!”

“Moi?!”
She chuckled. “My
poor darling, I’ve got so many surprises bottled up inside of me that…well, one
of these days you’ll see.”

25

Remembrance
of Things Past

An hour later, Alex experienced a
welcome rush of déjà vu as he perched on Jolie’s gallery and related details of
his bizarre Florida odyssey. His
tale came in a torrent, and when he finished the last of his intimate
revelations, Jolie was exhausted.

“My God, Alex!
I’m worn out just hearing all that. Who knew when I dropped you off at the bus
station that you’d have such a wild teacup ride? I mean, intrigue and
conspiracy, love and betrayal, sex and violence. Wow! To paraphrase dear Birdie
Coonan, ‘Everything but the bloodhounds yapping at your heels!’”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Skip the
theatrics, Jolie. Now that Alex is back in wonderland, what am I going to do?”

“Well, first of all, you should be
very grateful that I’m not berating you for falling back into the trap that
sent you packing in the first place. As the French say,
‘Plus ça change,
plus c’est même chose.’
”

“The more things change, the more
they stay the same,” Alex translated tiredly. “I know. Now how about less
platitudes and more advice?"

Jolie pursed his lips. “The way I
see it is you only have two choices. You can get the facts from Cord or you can
go on living a lie.”

Alex was humiliated by the
pronouncement but pressed the issue. “What facts?”

“Oh, come on, dear boy! I did some
intense reading between the lines, and do you honestly think the man’s a
fortune hunter?”

“He called Daddy, didn’t he?”

Jolie was incredulous. “Alex, I
know you’re naïve about life in general and the gay lifestyle in particular,
but can’t you see what Cord was trying to do? He knew you two could never make
it unless you learned to be independent, and that meant standing up to your
father. The only way to make that happen was to force you back here to face the
music. Oh, your little scheme to cheat Daddy out of the money was amusing, but
Cord is right. It would never have worked and was just another way of dodging
the real issue. Like it or not, Alex you’ve spent your life avoiding
responsibility, and at some point, it became convenient to do what Daddy said.
You’ve used that as a crutch, and in this case running home is much easier than
working on a relationship.”

“Ouch.”

“Remember I told you the first sign
of recovery is admitting there’s a problem.”

Alex thought a moment. “You really
believe Cord loves me?”

“Judging from everything you’ve
told me, yes. And that’s taking into account that absolutely everything I know
about Cord is from someone who’s furious with him.”

“I wish I could be sure. I wish I’d
get some kind of sign.”

“For God’s sake, Alex! A sign?! You
sound like Dolly Levi waiting to hear from her late husband Ephraim. Why not
give Cord a sign instead?”

“You think I should call him?”

“Among other things.”

“Such as?”

“Breaking your engagement and
telling your parents you’re gay.”

Alex caught himself just before blurting
that he was afraid of being disinherited, but Jolie was too quick.

“Granted it’s a huge risk, but if
you don’t take it how can you live with yourself? And, no, that’s not a
rhetorical question.”

“I know.” Alex looked
away, seeking comfort in the tranquil courtyard and splashing fountain. He
found none. “It took every bit of courage I had to run away, but you’re right
as usual. I’m right back where I started from, doomed to marry some damned
tight-ass Junior Leaguing, garden clubbing, opera guilding, Bryn Mawr perfect
post-debutante who…aw, shit, Jolie! I’m more confused than ever.”

“Confusion is not the issue here
.
Honesty is.”

“I know that, and I want to be
honest but…oh, God! I sound like such a coward.”

Alex blinked away tears. “Is that
the real problem, Jolie? Am I a coward?”

“You’re just afraid,
bébé
.
All gay people are afraid in the beginning. When we learn we’re different, told
day in and day out that what we’re feeling is sick and sinful, it’s only natural
to deny it and pray it will go away. Most of us eventually struggle out of the
closet, some even kick the damned door down, but others endure terribly lonely
lives pretending they’re something they’re not.”

Alex immediately thought
of Duncan.
 

“We all seek self-truths
in our own ways. Lord knows my own journey was fraught with anxiety
and wrong turns, including an ill-conceived marriage at a very young age, but I
finally figured out who I was. Or, more accurately, who I
wasn’t
.”

Jolie took Alex’s face in
his hands and looked him hard in the eyes.

“If you don’t remember or
believe anything else I tell you, understand that being honest about who
and what you are is the greatest present you’ll ever give yourself. You’re the
only one who can make it happen, and when you do, I promise you’ll feel like
the world’s burdens have been lifted from your shoulders. It’s really that
simple.” He kissed Alex’s forehead. “End of sermonette.
Cue Star Spangled Banner. Fade to black.”

Alex whispered a barely audible, “Thanks.”

“De rien.”
Jolie
kissed Alex again and glanced across the courtyard, eye caught by a glimmer of
sunlight in the bamboo thicket. He got up slowly, bones aching from being in
the same position so long. “The sun may not be under the yardarm but I sure as
hell need a drink.”
 

Alex rubbed his eyes,
dizzy and a bit overwhelmed by all Jolie had said. “Me too.”

“Name your poison.”

 
“Surprise me.”

“Coming right up.” Jolie
was halfway down the gallery when he stopped and did a very slow turn. “Did you
say Bryn Mawr?”

“Huh?”

“Did you say Camilla went
to Bryn Mawr?”

“Yes. Why?”

“My God, where is my
effing brain these days and why didn’t I think of it before?! It’s absolutely inspired!”

“Jeez Louise, Jolie! You
look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“Resurrected a ghost is
more like it, and it’s sure as hell not Christmas Past!” He grinned and
fluttered back to his chair. “More like Carnival Last!”

“What on earth are you
babbling about?”

Jolie’s face was flushed
with evil excitement. “I have this fabulous friend named Angelique Poché who lives
in the one thousand block of Burgundy,
and she knows absolutely
everyone
. More importantly, she has all the dirt on them.”

“So?”

“So I remember hoisting a
few with dear Angelique at the Bombay Club last Mardi Gras and recall something
très
naughty she said about an uptown girl who went to Bryn Mawr.”

“How do you know it was
Camilla?”

“Do the math, sweetie
pie. How many New Orleans girls go
to Bryn Mawr? Besides, that strange name has always dogged me like it dogged
poor Princess Diana. It was just too, too familiar, and now I know why.”

“But Camilla’s a saint.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone.” Alex
reconsidered. “Well, mostly Camilla now that I think about it.”

“
Exactemente!
And
as our beloved Oscar Wilde once said, ‘Every saint has a past and every sinner
has a future.’” He frowned. “Or something like that.”

“Go on.”

“Well, unlike most coeds,
our little Miss Round Heels disdained collegiate types and developed an
unquenchable thirst for the common man.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, my dear, that
she loved to boff the Great Unwashed. Angelique said this tacky tart slummed in
bars frequented by factory workers and eventually became high on their list of
local scenic attractions and fun things to do. Only one way to find out if
Camilla’s our gal.” He retrieved a tiny cell phone from his shirt pocket and
punched a recall number. “In the meantime, how about
whipping up some appletinis while
maman
does her homework?”

“Sure.”

“There’s a good lad!” He
grinned into the telephone. “Angelique? It’s Jolie. I know, my darling.
It’s been absolute aeons!”

With the French doors to
the kitchen flung wide, Alex heard snatches of conversation while he
mixed the drinks. Jolie’s chuckles were interspersed by long periods of silence,
and when Alex returned to the gallery, cocktails in hand, he was just in time
for the wickedest, most vitriolic cackle yet.

Jolie looked at Alex and
nodded furiously.
“A
UPS
man?
Two
UPS
men?
No!”
Another loud cackle plus a
snort.
“At the same time?
Darling, no! Tell me
you’re making this up! What? Oh, good Lord! I'm swooning!”
 

Alex gave Jolie his
drink, wishing he could hear the other half of the conversation. The cell
phone was turned up just loud enough to dispense tantalizing snippets.
 
“Local scandal…hushed up…probation…rich
Daddy…blah blah blah…”

Alex thought Jolie would
never get off the phone. “Well?”

“Honey chile, this is the
hottest thing since Emeril’s cayenne chicken!” Jolie lofted his appletini and
clinked Alex’s glass. “Here’s to Angelique Poché, our source for all things
dark and beautiful!”

Alex sipped quickly,
bursting with curiosity. “Are you going to tell me what you found out or
what?”

“Oh, not I!” Jolie said,
pressing a hand to his chest. “These naughty pearls of wisdom must come
from Angelique’s lips alone.”

“Damn, Jolie! After all
I’ve been through, I don’t think my nerves can stand any more waiting.”

“Not even ten minutes?”

“Huh?”

“You’re about to pay a
visit to Chez Poché,
bébé,
so drink up!”