THE IT PARADE
BY
J
INX
W
IATT
Â
Fill in the Blanks
Â
If there's one place rich and trendy New Yorkers adore, it's a hot and swanky club that keeps them
in
and the bridge-and-tunnel crowd
out
. Tongues are wagging about a new VVIP (that's not a typo, darlings; it's double the very) haunt that will have the imprimatur of America's newly single Prince and America's Best Gay Friend. Suspicious talk has swirled about these two being secret partners. Is the about-to-go-publicbusiness announcement a cover-up or a shame-on-you moment for dirty minds?
27
Finn
Dean Paul was naked, flat on his back, but barely visible through the steam. “I'm still crashing at your place, we work out almostevery day, and now you're suggesting that we go into business together? People are going to talk.” His voice boomed over the hissing jets.
Finn forced himself to look away. No good could come from staring too long. “People are going to talk about what?”
“About us.”
“And what will they say?”
“That we're ... you know ... a couple. I don't care. But I just don't want you to hear that kind of gossip and possibly get your hopes up.”
The jets halted as
hopes up
ricocheted in the Crunch steam room.
Finn hung his head low in the wet heat. “Sometimes I wonder.”
“What's that?”
“Whether it's my hope or your latent fantasy.”
Dean Paul's laugh was cocky. “Yeah, right.You wish.”
“You bring it up all the time. Maybe it's your wish.”
“They don't come off the hetero assembly line any straighter than me.”
“The fact that you just said that might indicate otherwise.”
There was a long stretch of silence.
“You guys think everyone is gay,” Dean Paul said, finally. “Name a hot celebrity, and there's been a rumor floated that he's gayâBrad Pitt, Matthew McConaughey, Tom Brady, the list goes on. I'll say this muchâyou're an optimistic bunch.”
“You're ridiculous,” Finn said wearily.
“Am I?”
“
Yes
. And by the way, aren't you the one who keeps insistingthat George Clooney is gay?”
“He's never been married,” Dean Paul reasoned.
“Oh, well, there you have it, because every man who's marriedâor ever has been marriedâcould never be gay. And by the way, dumbass, George Clooney
was
married once.”
“Why so touchy?”
Finn lifted his head and tossed Dean Paul an annoyed look, so annoyed that he zeroed in on the man's eyes, never once feeling tempted to steal a glance south. It was a baby step toward mitigating the crush. “It's hard not to be touchy. You're such a frustrating son of a bitch.”
Dean Paul stood up to hook his towel around his waist, maintaining eye contact, practically daring Finn to look.
Finn was resolute, staring eye to eye like a tractor beam.
Dean Paul stepped down to join him on the first row. “I just like fucking with you.”
“It's a bit cruel.”
Dean Paul looked over at him in complete surprise.
“It is.”
“
Cruel?
That's a little dramatic, don't you think?” He paused a beat. “Well, now that Tilly's out of the picture, maybe I should look up some of the old buddies she made me ditch. I'm not going to trade one moody bitch for another.”
Finn experienced a flash of anger. “God, you're such a prick!” He rose up and started for the door. His hand was on it when he halted and spun around. “Why do you play these fucking mind games with me? You know my feelings for you are complicated. You know that. I try to be a platonic guy friend. I try like hell. And the only time I don't succeed is when you taunt me with this bullshit.You dangle the idea of something more out there.You tease me by stripping down in this steam room when you could just as well keep your goddamntowel on. And then you threaten to take all your toys and go home. The other day you were moving to Miami. Now you're ditching me to go back to your straight friends. How can you call me a bitch?
You're
the bitch. Jesus Christ, you play more games than a woman!”
Dean Paul shook his head. “You're too high maintenance, man. I can't be emotionally responsible for you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Finn raged. “You couldn't be emotionally responsible for a rescue dog! It took Cantaloupe almost dying for you to realize that she was actually a child! If you're attracted to a woman, chances are you'll marry her! God! You put out this notion that I should be more laid back like one of your old dopey buddies, but you don't treat me like one of those guys. So what happens is I end up acting like your stupid boyfriend. And you benefit from that. I'm overly thoughtful. I wait around for your calls and texts. I drop everything when you say go.You
know
this. And you play into it just enough to keep me going because it's good for you. Well, you know what, asshole? It's not good for me anymore. I'm done.”
The hiss of the steam jets started up again.
And then Finn walked out. He occupied himself in the city for several hoursâbrowsing the bookstores, taking in a matinee, shopping in SoHo. When he got back to the apartment,it was eerily empty. Dean Paul had packed his things and left his key on top of the bar.
He was gone.
Â
Â
For the next few weeks, Finn channeled all the energy that had gone toward Dean Paul into his new ventureâSacred. His dream was to make it
the
VIP nightspot of the moment.
Amazingly, he found a perfect 2,000-square-foot space in Chelsea.A high-end custom denim boutique had gone out of business in the middle of a lease, and Finn managed to broker a good deal.
Finn fancied himself the next Amy Sacco, the high priestessof the Manhattan hot scene with exclusive velvet rope destinations like Lot 61 and Bungalow 8. But he envisioned Sacred taking exclusivity a radical step beyond.
People who passed through the doors would be paid members. And not just anyone could write a check. They would have to be invited.
Sorry, Benji
. He also imagined a Sacred membership Internet-based social network accessible by secret password only. My Space and Facebook were for the masses. Finn had secured the URL sacredonline.net for a privileged few. That way members could cyber chat about goings on at Sacred without undesirables horning in.
On the strength of Finn's kick-ass business planâand his unexpected success on
The Beehive
, his parents agreed to loosen the reins on his trust fund, though only enough to front the initial capital in his dream venture. He would still need other investors.
Finn's notoriety got him meetings with several cash-rich potential partners. But it did
not
close the deal. Most of them gave him lip service on the frightening mortality rate of nightclub ventures. “It's a high risk business with a short lifespan,”one lawyer told him. “You need more than a hip idea.”
Deep down, Finn truly knew that he had more than that. Sacred would be a slam dunk. With a high membership fee, fifteen-dollar drinks, two-hundred-fifty-dollar bottle service, and regular patronage, investors could be paid regular distributionsof both equity and debt service faster than Tara Reid could say, “Another round, please.”
Unfortunately, few believers were out there. So many startup entrepreneurs had been burned on the sex appeal of co-owning a hot nightclub that ultimately went bust. After being told no again and again, Finn wondered if he would ever be able to make a go of it.
And then a courier knocked on the door to deliver an envelope. There was a check inside for the exact amount he needed to move forward. Attached to it was a note:
I want in. At last, you can finally call me your partner.Just kidding ...
Dean Paul
.
Finn smiled. There was just no getting rid of the adorable bastard. And he secretly didn't want to. He hoped the unrequitedfeelings would go away. But for right now, at least, it was what it was.
THE IT PARADE
BY
J
INX
W
IATT
Â
Fill in the Blanks
Â
Has talent gone the way of the cassettetape and VHS format? Can you even find it anymore where celebrity is concerned? For example, take our favorite Black American Princess, she of the dim-bulb talk show banterasides, not-quite-there modeling career, blink-and-you-miss-her stints as an actress, and bad choices in boyfriends.Now what's put her on the fame radar is almost getting run over and spending herself into debtor's prison. I give up, darlings!
28
Simone
“What went through your mind?” Emma asked gently.
“That I was going to die,” Simone said. “Honestly, I thought it was over for me.” Tears welled up.
Emma reached out for her hand and clasped tight in a gestureof support. “I can't imagine how frightening that must have been.”
The studio audience was riveted.
“It's strange,” Simone continued, regaining her composure.“It wasn't fear that I felt the most ... it was regret. I thought about my father, who died when he was only forty-six.I thought about my mother, whom I haven't spoken to in years. I thought about the bad choices I made to get inâand even worse
stay
inâa relationship with this
person
.” She paused. “You know, it's amazing how much can go through your mind in a matter of seconds.”
“It sounds like this incident changed you,” Emma ventured.
Simone considered the statement. “I think it did. Profoundly.I saw Tommy's car jump the curb, and it downloaded in that instant that my relationship with myself was so ...
flawed
. I chose the wrong guysâor let them choose me. I didn't respect the role of money in my life. I didn't honor my relationship and responsibility to my family. I thought I was going to die, and I had this horrible sense that I'd gotten everythingwrong.” She looked out at the audience. “And let me say for the record that I realize how incredibly lucky I am. A woman died that day. And she left behind a little girl who will grow up without a mother. That's the biggest heartbreak.”
“Did you ever have any suspicions or fears that Tommy Robb might react this way?” Emma asked.
Simone shook her head. “Maybe I should have. The warning signs were there from the very beginning. He was controlling and possessive and verbally abusive.When we broke up, I felt stalked to a degree, but I felt helpless. He could just autograph a baseball and get out of almost anything. And he always had a girl hanging on his arm, so people thought I was the crazy ex-girlfriend instead of the other way around. It was terrible. If I had to do it all over againâand this is my advice for all girls out thereâforget athletes and date an accountant!”
The audience laughed and clapped their approval.
Emma smiled and took Simone's hand again in a show of sisterly solidarity. “We can't wait to have you back tomorrow in
The Beehive
where you belong. But so much has been written about this tragedyâ”
“Most of it is completely bogus,” Simone cut in.
“Exactly. And we wanted our viewers to get the truth straight from you.”
Simone gave Emma a wry look. “There's a lot of truth about me heading their way this week.”
Emma smiled. “That's right. Simone has courageously agreed to be the first subject of our new Debt Makeover series,which will put consumers in financial crisis under the hot lights of a lifestyle coach, credit expert, forensic accountant,and retirement planner. That's later this week. Stay with us. We're coming right back with new country and pop sensationTaylor Swift.”
Simone breathed an extended sigh of relief.
“You were wonderful!” Emma gushed. “Brave and honest and so relatable.You should feel proud.”
Simone beamed as Jay gave her two enthusiastic thumbs up. For the first time the show had debuted, she felt like she belonged, like she had carved out a place uniquely her own, just as Sutton, Emma, and Finn had. It was a glorious feeling of accomplishment, relevance, and a new way of being.
She made a beeline for her dressing room and walked in just as her cell phone started to ring. Rushing to retrieve it atop the cluttered vanity, Simone saw that it was Tilly, no doubt calling about the live interview that had just wrapped. She hesitated, wondering if she was in the mood, then reluctantlypicked up.
“Michael is going positively
mad
!” Tilly exclaimed before Simone could even peep out a greeting.
“Who's Michael?”
“My agent!” Tilly roared. “I told you that I'd put in a word, and he's been waiting for this interview to air to assess you as a potential client. And, well, now he thinks
I'm
brilliant for suggesting you to him in the first place. But he thinks you have
loads
of potential. He wants to scoop you up right away and start taking you around to publishers.”
Simone's stomach did a series of little flips. “Publishers? What for?”
“To get you a book deal! What else?”
“But I don't know how to write!” Simone exclaimed.
“Oh, please, you don't have to know how to do that. They'll find you a ghost writer. Trust me. All you have to do is gab with them over coffee or something. They'll do the rest.”
“Tilly, Iâ”
“Simone, Michael is waiting for your call. And let me put this in proper perspective for you. He doesn't wait on many calls. People wait for
his
calls. He's one of the best, and he can get you out of this financial mess you've gotten yourself in. You kicked Kevon Edmonds to the side, so it's all up to you now. Just say, âThank you, Tilly,' and take down this number. I have to run. Cantaloupe's wardrobe stylist is due here any minute, and we have to pick out a new ski suit.”
“This is crazy,” Simone murmured, experiencing a stirringsense of excitement as she jotted down the nine digits. Her life was about to change. She could feel it.