Chapter Text
|-Wednesday evening. 38th Sixth Apartments, 38 6th Avenue, Brooklyn, New York-|
I cut the music off there. On the one hand, I hate pausin in the middle of a song. One the other… I'm not repeatin that blunder back in June. Ancora non riesco a credere che ho scopato così. (Still can't believe I fucked up like that.) Sun's finally dipped below the horizon as I make my way into the building. Mark and Jessica are on the sixth floor, so I head to the elevator and punch the button that takes me up, waiting a few seconds since it apparently already has passengers in it. Chỉ là may mắn của tôi. (Just my luck.) The doors open and I step in, punchin the button for the sixth floor and feel it jolt to life as I start to head up the building. Only takes a few seconds for me to reach my destination. Well, "destination". Still need to get to their apartment. 6H. Just down this hall.
My footsteps echo off the walls more than they should as I look at all the Halloween decorations. Love this time of year. Everyone gets spooky and they won't judge you for it. You can watch horror movies every night and no one will think you're a psychopath. Hard to do that any other time. A few more seconds of walkin and I'm at their door, knockin hard so that they can hear me. It's Mark that answers first, though he does it without openin the door. Mona. (Pussy.)
"Passa parola, per favore. (Password, please.)" I hear from the other side. So he thinks he can be sly, huh?
"Butto giù questa porta se non la apri, Mark. (I'll kick this door down if you don't open it, Mark.)" I respond, not really in the mood for jokes. Not that this Sicilian asshole cares all that much.
"Se la memoria serve: quella non è la passa parola. (If my memory serves; That is not the password.)" I hear, followed by someone's footsteps behind Mark. Jessica, naturally.
"I'm not much of a fan of this game, Mark. I think it's best if you go and open the door, aye?" I hear her say as the latches click.
"Anythin for your woman, huh?" I reply smugly, knowin that Jess didn't intend to be on my side this time. The door swings open and Mark is as red as the tomatoes he uses to make his lasagna. Questo lo dovaria insegnar al so culo siciliano. (That should teach his Sicilian ass.)
"You're a real dick, ya know dat?" He says as he steps out of my way. Is he tryin to intimidate me? Because he knows that won't work. I'm 6'10". He's 5'9". We've been over this many times. Doesn't matter as he then turns to where the kitchen is. "An' don't tink you're safe from this either, Jessica."
I walk into the small apartment and immediately take notice that someone is missin. Someone that I thought would be here before me.
"Is Kati late?" I say, knowin that this really isn't like her. Jessica comes from the kitchen, smellin like she just walked straight out of a pizzeria in Palermo.
"She says something's popped up. Won't be able to make it." She says as she looks up at me. How has she not hurt her neck doin that?
"Is it that important?" I then ask, wantin to know some more.
"From da sounds of it, yeah, seein' as it was Gold City who swiped her tonight." Mark interjects as he then heads into the kitchen, shoutin his next words out. "Wouldn't be surprised if it's got sumthin' ta do wiv dat fashun show tomow' night." Coreto... (Right…) She did mention that the other day. Guess her little muse is havin some second thoughts about it. Or maybe Kati is and Gold City picked up on it. She seems like the observational sort like I am.
"Hmm… Interestin. Speakin of those two…" I decide to bring this up. I don't know if Mark or Jessica have met her yet, but I'm about to find out. "Have either of you met Gold City yet?" Jessica lights up like a damn beacon.
"Oh aye!" She starts, jumpin as she does so. "About a week back, I reckon. It was meant to be just me and Kati, but Mark decided to tag along, see, since he had the day off."
"Oh yeah, you did. Fannullone pigro. (Lazy slackass.)" I say as my eyes drift towards him.
"You oughta grab a manager slot, Met. It'll do ya wonders, ya hear?" Mark responds, that Brooklyn accent of his really comin out in force. I say that like it doesn't already. "But yeah. We wuz walkin' down by Union Square when we lost Kati. Started lookin' an' found her apparently gettin' City out of a dicey situation."
"I wouldn't be callin' it dicey, now. More like havin' to let down a grand fan of hers." Jessica adds before Mark speaks up again.
"Yeah, dat. Whaddya askin'? You meet her or sumthin'?" Mark says as he glares at me.
"Around the same time. Maybe a few days earlier. Did you notice anythin odd with how they interacted with each other?" I say, gettin the question out now so that it doesn't get awkward later. Mark and Jessica just look at each other. Neither one of them really wants to answer first, but someone has to. Sarà che toca a mi 'n'altro volta. (Guess it'll have to be me again.) "Any weird looks between the two of them? Stares that go on a bit too long? Hands that look like they're gonna start wanderin if nobody's lookin?" That seems to get the gears turnin in their heads. Mark then looks back to me after a few seconds, an idea clearly in his head.
"Now dat you went an' said it, yeah. Kati couldn't even look Gold City in da eyes. Den again, this is Kati we talkin' 'bout. We know how she gets 'round ladies like Gold City." He says. Mark's only statin the obvious. And Jessica will only pick up on it now after I've mentioned it. Once again, people aren't seein what I am.
"I think it's mutual, this time." I say as we hear the timer go off. Pizza must be done. Mark seems to think the same thing as he rushes into he kitchen, followed by the sounds of him pullin somethin out of the oven. Jessica then walks over to me, her soft footfalls remindin me that I still have my shoes on. So I take them off as she talks to me.
"D'ye think Gold City's got a soft spot for Kati? Maybe that's why she's workin' alongside her…" She says as I set my shoes down by the door.
"Nah, I think it started after the two met back in June. Gold City's got that look of someone who feels guilt over their attraction. Like it's somethin she views as bein wrong." I say as the scent of freshly made Sicilian pizza wafts through the room.
"I dunno, Met. Gold City's a pro model. Ain't it kinda messed up for her ta be gettin' with her photographer or manager?" Mark says as he brings the pizza into the dinin area. He then heads back into the kitchen, presumably to grab another pie, all while keepin his end of the conversation goin. "I'm jus' sayin'. Dat feels like a psych gettin' busy wit dey patients."
"Không nơi nào gần mức độ cấm kỵ đó. (Nowhere near that level of taboo.) Not as bad. Besides, I've read a lot of news articles about models hookin up with their camera people and managers. But Gold City and Kati?" I pause for a split second so I can get as much of that scent into my nose. Smells pretty damn good. "Non lo so. (I don't know) This feels different somehow. Can't quite explain it."
Mark cuts the pies and I waltz over to grab a slice. Margherita and pepperoni. Not bad choices, honestly. Though I do want to know what possessed a Sicilian to make somethin that's Neapolitan. But that's for another day. I grab my slices and head over to the table, sittin down as Mark and Jessica flank me. No me pias questo. (I don't like this.) It's too empty without Kati. But that doesn't stop our conversation.
"Ya really tink Gold City's got a thing fer Kati? 'Cause I didn't see nuttin' suggestin' dat when me an' Jessica ran into 'er." Mark says as he starts eatin like the slob that he is. Still don't know how Jessica thinks this man is attractive with that mullet and damn cop stache on his face. Not to mention the Mötley Crüe shirt he's got on right now. Jesus dude… Lấy một gợi ý chết tiệt. (Take a damn hint.) I quickly look down at my own shirt: Demolition Hammer. Actual good music. Then I look back up at Mark before shiftin my attention to Jessica.
"Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn't. All I know is that my gut hasn't been wrong yet. No reason to start doubtin it now." I say as I take a bite, letting that savory taste and juicy tomato sauce hit my tongue. I really hate to give credit to a bunch of southerners, but god damn Neapolitans do know how to make a good pizza. I look over at Jessica as she swallows, wipin her mouth off with a napkin before she speaks.
"I mean, it was Met who suggested I stay with ye. And we know fine well where that led us." She says as she gives Mark this lovey-dovey look that makes my stomach churn. She then looks back to me as she sets down her slice. "But do ye think a bit of a thing between Kati and Gold City might work? She won't be stayin' here in New York forever, now."
"Time's the only thing that can answer that question. And from the looks of it, our model friend is havin a little battle with her own mind." I start sayin and I take another bite. Pepperoni is pretty good. Guess Mark went to a meat ship to get the slices.
"Whaddya mean by dat?" I hear the Sicilian ask. Guess I can give him an answer.
"Gold City's got the look of someone who was sure they were straight. Then she met Kati, and is now havin to second guess her entire life." I say as I go to finish one slice. I quickly chew and then swallow before I start speakin again. "It's doin a number on her. But she's… I don't know. She looks to be doin a lot better than you'd expect. Still, wouldn't wish that kind of thing on anyone. Tryin to piece together if you felt that same kind of attraction to other women in the past. Havin to revaluate how you feel around your friends. Seems like hell."
"An' you look like de kinda person who gets dat whole dilemma, ya know? Bein' trans an' all dat." Mark responds as he stands to get himself another slice or two.
"No, not really. Gender dysphoria and figurin out your sexuality are two very different experiences. Only thing that ties me and Gold City together is the fact that it makes us both queer. That's about it." I say as Mark sits back down, eyes goin from me to his pizza. I then sigh, thinkin about my next words carefully. I don't want to trip up. Any friend of Kati's is a friend of mine. That's my philosophy. But with all this… It's gonna make things a little difficult, and frankly, I don't want that. Gold City is an extremely nice woman. She seems like the kind and carin sort under that up front coldness. And I do understand why she puts on that facade. Seems like a kind of defense. And given her line of work? Can't say I really blame her. Hmm… Think I'm startin to understand why she feels attracted to Kati now: Kati doesn't see a livin mannequin. She sees a person. Someone who is worth respect simply because they are. Come to think of it, maybe that's why Kati stuck around with me for so long. Sẽkhông ngạc nhiên. (Wouldn't be surprised.)
I stand up, headin over to the cabinets to get a glass. I get one in my hand and walk over to the sink, pourin water into the cup before headin back to sit down, where I then reach into my bag and take out my HRT. I tap three of the little pills into my hand and down them, swallowin hard to make sure that testosterone enters my system. I then take a deep breath, still tryin to figure out what my next words will be.
"Gold City… bein a model ain't easy. She's got this reputation back in Japan. Very difficult to work with. Never really bothered with formin a bond with the photographers she worked with. Yet with Kati…" I start, piecin the puzzle together as I go. Seems Mark and Jessica are startin to get the picture too.
"She trusts 'er. Tink I'm startin' ta see where you're goin' with this, Met. Still, would dat even work? Dey got two real diff'rent personalities." Mark says as Jessica still thinks about what she's goin to say. But she doesn't say anythin. Seems Mark took the words out of her mouth. Bastardo astuto. (Sly bastard.)
"You say that when she's stuck around me for twenty years." I respond, gaugin Mark's reaction. Seems I hit the right spot.
"Yeah, so whatah I'm sayin' is… Look, Met, I didn't… Ya know whatah I meant." He fumbles, tryin to course correct but clearly failin. And Jessica isn't helpin his case, seein as how she's tryin not to laugh at his expense.
"Aye, well, when ye put it like that, then." She says, still laughin slightly as the words come out. This is gonna be one interestin night.
It's almost ten and I have work in the mornin. So I need to head back to the Bronx. But not before one last little nugget of information.
"Aw shit! I awm'st forgot." I hear Mark blurt out as he comes running to the front door just as I get my shoes on.
"What? What is it?" I say as he reaches me, hands behind his back like he's about to fuck with me. I swear, if he flashes me with his phone camera again… El xe un morto. (He's a dead man.)
"Dis." He says, pullin his hand out from his back and presentin me with… a ticket.? For what? I get my answer almost immediately. "It's fer dat fashion show tomorrow nite. Jess got one fer evry one o' us." That's when I notice that there's only three in his hand.
"What about Kati?" I ask, feelin a bit irritated that she didn't get one for my best friend.
"She's already got one, so she has. A grand seat too, from what she's telling me. We're practically up in the rafters." Jessica says as she lounges on the sofa. Right… She would get one for free… And it would be in a good spot. Damn… Maybe I should get into fashion photography. I'd have one helluva teacher. But then Jessica goes and says somethin that blind sides me. "Here's hopin' she can sneak the three of us backstage, so we can all see Gold City together, lovely as that."
Tôi- Cái Gì- Không. Chỉ, không. (I- What- No. Just no.) So par sicuro che łe parołe "scónderse indriołe cuinte" no łe xe vegnùe fora dała so boca. (I know for a fact that the words "sneak backstage" did not just come out of her mouth.) Cô ấy có điên không?! (Is she crazy?!) No la pol esser seria. (She can't be serious.)
"I- Are you- You're absolutely fuckin delusional if you think you can get someone as big as me behind any stage without bein spotted." I start sayin, still tryin to process the fuckery I just heard come out of Jessica's mouth.
"Aw, c'mon Met. It ain't dat hard, is it?" Mark retorts with that annoyin Sicilian charm of his.
"Motherfucker- I am an uma who is transgender. And this is without mentionin that as a derstrier, I am six feet and ten inches tall. People are gonna notice." I respond, not wantin anythin to do with this plan.
"We'll be jus' fine. You worry too much, ya know dat?" Mark retorts, once again with that annoyin charm of his. I hate it so much. Siciliani e le loro stronzate pompose. (Sicilians and their pompous bullshit.)
"You know what? No. I'm gonna leave this shit to you two. I'm goin home." I say as I walk out the door, down the hallway and into the elevator. Within a few seconds, I'm on the ground floor, walkin out of the building while reachin into my pocket. I pull out a fat joint. Great way to get rid of some stress after a long day of bullsh-
Cazzo. (Fuck.) Tôi để bật lửa trên bàn cà phê của họ. (I left my lighter on their coffee table.)
|-That same evening. Noonan Towers, 939 Woodycrest Avenue, the Bronx-|
I'm nervous. Far more than I anticipated. Far more than I should be. I've done fashion shows before. I've given performances while in a piece before as well. This shouldn't be flustering me as much as it currently is. Et pourtant... Voici. (And yet… Here we are.) The smell of salmon permeates the air as Kati opens the oven. Seems like dinner for tonight is finished. I hear silverware clatter as she sets the table for two, then she speaks up.
"Okay. Should be ready. I just… Hope I didn't over cook the fish." She says, nerves tinging every aspect of her voice, something that makes my heart skip a beat for a millisecond. Dō? Kanojo wa dōyatte sonna ni raku ni sore o suru no desu ka? (How? How does she do it so effortlessly?) I stand from her meager sofa and sit at the table, watching as she sits across from me. With how small it is, one could mistake this as a more… intimate affair when the reality is quite different. I look down at my plate: Salmon with some lemon and asparagus, not bad. Smells quite nice. I take my fork and cut into the salmon, noting how tender it is. Pas de meilleurs moments comme le présent. (No better time than the present.)
I separate the small division from the rest of the fish and bring my fork to my mouth. I can tell immediately that it is cooked perfectly once it hits my tongue. Hmm… Maybe Victor could learn a thing or two. But that's for another day.
"So… What's wrong, City?" I hear Kati ask, accurately pinpointing why it is I am here. "You're not having second thoughts, are you?"
"No… Well, maybe. But I'm not pulling out of the show. It's too late for that. I just…" I stare at the wall behind Kati, not really sure what to think. "I don't know. Just nervous, I suppose."
"You? Nervous? That seems like a oxymoron." She responds sarcastically, something that once again makes my heart skip a beat. But Kati's tone quickly becomes serious and understanding. "Maybe… Maybe it's because this is the first major runway you've done outside of Japan. I don't… I don't really know what your past schedule looks like so I could be wrong." It gives me a second to think. Ever since my full commitment back into modeling after graduation, I haven't really done fashion shows all that much. The only ones that really come to mind were all in Tokyo. Maybe Kati has a point. Maybe that is why I feel so nervous. But I know that it isn't. At least, it doesn't explain it entirely. I know the true reason:
She'll have to see me in that dress.
That thought alone has kept me from a proper night's sleep ever since Monday. And I know it won't get better. Not if I continue to ignore the elephant in the room. It's a funny thing, sexuality. Omoshiroi to meiwaku na koto. (A funny and annoying thing.) I find it funny because of how suddenly this has happened. Never did I think I would ever have to question something that seemed so trivial up until now. But in that same breath, it's annoying because of how much stress it has been putting me through. Every time my mind wanders, the little oni and wendigo appear on either shoulder. Taunting me. Insulting me. Goddesses how I hate it. I wish accepting that I am bisexual wasn't such a Herculean task. I wish that I could just come to terms with this. Come to terms with… No. I can't. Not… Not in a moment like this. So instead I'll bite the pain. Comme je l'ai fait depuis juin. (Like I have done since June.) Bite the pain and suffer in silence. Then I hear Kati speak up again.
"You know, I was supposed to head down to Brooklyn and spend some time with friends tonight, but well…" She starts trailing off, making me feel guilt for apparently ruining her plans.
"Oh, I… I'm sorry. I didn't-" I start, but she cuts me off before I can continue.
"No, it's okay, City. This seemed important so, we're here now. I just hope that it can help." She says, the sincerity in her voice providing a soothing counterbalance to whatever guilt I may feel right now. I… I think I need it, honestly. "You know, you said that you would lend a shoulder if I ever needed one and… I wanna do the same."
"That's very kind of you, Kati. Thanks." I say, looking down at my plate to try and hide the blush that is creeping upon my skin. Makes me wish I wasn't so pale. Je pourrais le cacher beaucoup plus facilement. (I could hide it a lot easier.) We continue to eat in relative silence, speaking up occasionally about things we think the other might find interesting. But the conversations never really last. I'd usually be off-put by that, but with Kati… I'm not. That is both relaxing and stressful. Relaxing because it shows how much I trust her. Stressful… well, the topic of sexuality comes back to my mind when I think about that.
"You know, for someone raised in a mostly bilingual household, you don't really have much of an accent." I hear Kati then say. It gets my ears standing straight up. This is… well, I guess I can explain the subject.
"I don't see why it's much of an issue." I say in response, not particularly wanting to talk about something so mundane, but this is something that does bother me to some extent. "I mean, I spent ten years in a Canadian town speaking a mix of French and Japanese at home while everyone else around me really only knew English. Then I moved back to Japan with my mother after she and Père divorced."
"And that explains the lack of accent how exactly?" Kati retorts, tone unshifting from her previous statement.
"Well, my mother was friends with an American girl from California. San Diego, I think. Her father was in the military and was stationed in Japan for about ten years. My mother learned most of her English from her." I respond, hoping that ends this conversation. But I know it won't. And I also know that I won't stop Kati from prodding.
"So I take it your mother doesn't have much of an accent either? Or, maybe more of a SoCal accent I guess." She says, but then the thought returns. "Wait, that still doesn't explain… Nevermind, stupid question." She stops herself before she can continue. But then a new thought comes to her. "I… Does everyone ask you this?"
"Subete no ima shite, hai. (Every now and then, yes.) But it doesn't bother me all that much." I say, wanting this to end. But it doesn't. Old thoughts and feelings come back to me against my will. And this time, I don't think I can keep them form bursting out. "Actually, no. I take that back. It does bother me when people ask that." My eyes dart back and forth around Kati's apartment before they settle on her. She looks defeated, guilty even. Like someone who wishes that they didn't exist in this moment. "I'm not mad at you, Kati. Hell, I don't think I have it in me to be mad at you. I just…"
"Does… Does this go back to… you not feeling like you're seen as a person?"
Kati… This poor girl… Always hitting the nail on the head without knowing it… Qu'ai-je fait pour que tu entres dans ma vie? (What did I do to have you come into my life?)
"I guess it can. I certainly won't stop you from seeing it that way. The whole 'tsundere' act and this lack of an accent… Sometimes it makes me wish I never returned to modeling full-time. I thought that by going to Tracen I'd be able to be seen as something other than a pretty face, but when the requests and advertising agencies kept writing to me, I just… Wakaranai. (I don't know.)" I start saying, hoping that I can somehow get some kind of point across. And it seems to work. A little bit. Sometimes Kati's expressions can be difficult to read.
"Have you ever considered retiring? Maybe finding another outlet for yourself?" She asks before immediately apologizing. "Sajnálom. (I'm sorry.) I… I shouldn't be giving you advice like that. We've only known each other for four months. It… It's not my place."
"Maybe it is…" I say, mostly under my breath but I think it was loud enough for her to hear it.
"You've grown quite a lot on me in just four months. After all, you're one of only a handful of people who really sees me. Understands me. I don't have to be so defensive with you. I feel like I can be myself around you." I pause briefly before continuing. "I'm open to suggestions if you have any." Kati's face flushes read after hearing those words. I don't think she was prepared for a statement like that. She quickly takes a deep breath, then another when it becomes clear the first didn't get her the results she was looking for.
"I, uh… I… It really isn't my place to do that. I… I don't live your life. Frankly, I don't think I want to." Kati finally replies after a solid two minutes of thought. "I don't think I could manage all that stress. I'm barely keeping it together right now. I… Never expected people to latch onto me like this." "Then I guess we can both learn something. Mutual exchange, if you will." I respond, blush returning to my face slightly, though I doubt Kati will be able to see it since her head is tilted down, pinning her eyes to her small kitchen table. "I show you ways that I manage my stress from this profession and maybe… Maybe you can show me something that isn't modeling here in New York that I can latch onto when I return to Japan."
That leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It's eight, soon to be seven months away. But I've already grown so close to Kati that it'll be hard to go about life without her being a constant presence. I've already told myself that if nothing comes out of this attraction that I still want to have her in my life as a friend, but… With how things are currently going… Comment je me sens quand je suis avec elle... (How I feel when I'm with her…) Do I even want to leave New York? Do I want to return to Japan and leave behind someone who has been nothing but kind, caring and oh so understanding.
I don't think that I do.
But I have seven months to think about it. Seven long months to mull it over, guess and second guess myself. I can only imagine the things that Kati must be thinking. How she rationalizes everything that happens with us. I wonder: Does she notice those long glances I give her? Does she see every time she makes me blush? Tashika ni kanojo wa migi, suru hitsuyō ga arimasu ka? (Surely she has to, right?)
buzz
buzz
buzz
I don't get much time to ruminate on those thoughts as me and Kati both hear her phone go off. Someone is texting her. Could be Randy, wanting to see if she's okay about tomorrow night. Possibly asking about me as well since I told him I would be here. Could also be one of her friends asking her where she is tonight since she did have other plans before I came over. Quels étaient leurs noms ànouveau? (What were their names again?) I know Met. He is simply and outright unforgettable. No way in hell you could miss him in a crowd. But the other two… Mark and Jessica.? That sounds right. I feel bad for forgetting something like that so quickly. But they seemed nice when I met them. Jessica is remarkably kind and reliable while Mark… Well he's rather blunt and honest but that doesn't seem to stop him from caring. Good people to have as friends, I'd say. I watch as Kati stands and goes over to her coffee table and pick up her phone, looking at the message, seemingly recognizing who sent it.
"One of your friends? Or is it Randy?" I ask, wanting this tension to melt away.
"Uh, no. It's ápa." Kati responds, eyes never leaving the screen of her phone. "He's just wishing me luck for tomorrow. Not that it matters. I can't… bring my camera to take any pictures." Oh right, I had forgotten about that.
"Did you ever learn why outside photography is barred?" I then ask, still unsure why that rule is in place.
"Nem. (No.) Never found out anything. Neither could Randy." She says as she sets her phone down again.She then turns to face me, the tan skin on her face flush with color as her eyes do everything then can to not connect with mine. "You… feeling any better about tomorrow?"
"A little bit. We won't have much to do during the day, so I'm not opposed to another outing if you're open to the idea." I answer, taking a deep breath before I continue. "Maybe we could even start finding me some other interests. I certainly wouldn't mind that." Kati turns an even deeper shade of red as she processes those words. I'm leaving it up to her to find something that might interest me. For all intents and purposes: My future is in her hands. And frankly, I don't think there is anyone I trust with my future more than Kati Jacobs in this moment. I then pull my own phone out of my pocket and look at the time. Ten thirty in the evening. I suppose all good things must come to an end.
I sigh before looking back up at Kati.
"I should head home. It's getting late and I want to be rested for tomorrow night." I say as I start making my way towards to door. It's silent. And tense. I almost don't want to leave but I know that I have to. There's not much of a choice to be made here. I slip my shoes on and take my car keys of the little rack Kati has set up for her own. I then open the door, but turn back briefly before I step through.
"I'll see you tomorrow." I say, noticing that her blush is still there.
"I… yeah. See you tomorrow." She says as I leave her apartment. I long day ahead of me tomorrow. And an even longer night.
|-Thursday morning. Flatiron Building, 175 5th Avenue, Manhattan-|
I can't stand havin' to wear a necktie. But from what I'm hearin', we're fixin' to need at least somethin' semi-formal tonight. So I reckon I best get used to it. Ain't no helpin' none with her yappin' in my ear on this video call she went and forced on me this mornin'.
"I thought you said the show wasn't until tonight, Randy. Why are you-" I cut her plumb off 'fore she could even finish her question.
"The dress code tonight is apparently 'semi-formal' to 'formal', though all men need to be wearing neckties. I want to make sure I get this on right." I say as I finally get it fixed up right. I give it a tug, then loosen it just enough to slide it off without undoing the knot I just tied. I ain't in the mood to do this all over again. "I hate these things."
"I can tell. You were at it for twenty minutes." She says, havin' a good ol' laugh. Thinks she's a hoot, does she? "So what's in two hours? You said you couldn't be here for long."
"For all of the models participating, the managers need to have a meeting at around one in the afternoon today. It is currently half past eight." I say as I put the tie with the rest of my suit, just takin' a minute to catch my breath and get my head straight. Reckon it's mighty important in my line of work. "We need to finalizing who's going when on the runway. You know that three of the models showcased tonight have special performances based on their piece, right?"
"I did not know that second part. I'm assuming there's a livestream I can watch?" She then goes and asks. Did she really not know 'bout them performances?
"Uh, there should be. Straight to the Gershwin's channel on UmaTube. Runway is at seven. The special performances are at eight." I start, fixin' to let the cat out of the bag. But she beats me to it.
"Awesome. Can't wait to see what Shichi's wearing, and I know her performance will be good too." She syas, and I'm standin' there plumb baffled.
"How'd you-" I start to say, but she cuts me off right quick. Guess that's just what goes around comes around.
"She told me not too long after finding out. I've been meaning to ask, how has Shichi been doing? Has she taken to New York well? I can't speak for her, but I like to think I acclimated myself to Cary pretty quickly." I hear her ask. Reckon that makes sense, 'cause they're tight. Still, I'm plumb surprised she didn't just ask City herself.
"Well, first off, you should've asked her that." I say, makin' sure we're on the same page 'fore I get goin'. "But City is doing very well for herself. I thought she would need more time to get past the jet lag afte touching down at JFK, but she was already giving me suggestions for photographers only a day after she arrived. Two days after that we make our decision and then we went into Yorkville to meet Kati a few days after that." I say, lookin' back on how quick City got used to bein' in Gotham. It's plumb eerie, now that I'm thinkin' on it.
"Really? All that in, what, two weeks?I knew Shichi was adaptable but damn…" I hear her say. Always a hoot gettin' a few choice words out of her.
By now, I got my good shirt on and I'm grabbin' my jacket. I'm fixin' to head out, but I got a few more things to say first.
"Alright, leaving in a few. Want to scout out some more locations for future shoots before I make my way to the Gershwin." I say, standin' here watchin' her head jerk right back to that phone to look at me.
"Really? Well, then don't let me stop yo-" I go 'head and cut her off again just so she can hear what I'm fixin' to say.
"You're not keeping me from anything, Palmer. I just need to know your availability for Halloween." I say, seein' her look plumb confused. Palmer doesn't say a word, though, so I just keep on talkin'. "Fox had to bail. Her cousin is getting married in Frankfurt on the first so she'll be in Germany that whole week. Can you fill in for her?"
"I, uh… yeah, I can do that." Palmer says. Think she's fixin' to break a sweat.
"Don't get cold feet on me. And definitely don't get cold feet on Helios. She won't appreciate her best friend flaking on her." I tell her, just makin' sure she's got this handled.
"Me? Flaking on Helios? No. Never. You and her can count on me, Randy. I'll send the photos when I get them processed." Palmer says as she hangs up the phone, so to speak. With that, I head on out of my apartment and hit the streets of Manhattan. First stop: The Empire State Building. Reckon it's a fine spot for a set of New Year's pictures. I always like to get my ducks in a row ahead of time.
I'm drivin' up 5th Avenue, and I end up pullin' up right in front of the most famous buildin' in the whole wide world. I park my car right next to it on the street and head on inside. I ain't even through the door 'fore one of the folks workin' there recognizes me.
"You must be Mr. Jenkins, correct?" She asks me, lookin' me up and down like she just can't believe her own eyes.
"What were you expecting? Some hipster, bougie bastard in his thirties with a man-bun? Yes, I'm Randy Jenkins. I assume you're Halloway?" I ask her back, watchin' her eyes fix right on me.
"Yes. Riley Halloway. The head of staff saw your email last week and was intrigued by the idea. So I'm here to maybe help out with it. See what we can do." Hallow starts up right quick as she swings the door open for me. "You're interested in the 102nd floor observation deck for your photo shoot, correct? Odd that you're already thinking about New Year's when we still haven't reached Halloween." "I like planning ahead." I holler back, letting Halloway know what I'm up to as I head into the building. We fixin' to catch the first elevator, and it comes down quick as can be. Don't hardly gotta wait none, seein' as how I'm the first one in.
"We don't usually let visitors up to the top observation deck so early, but given what it is you're asking to use it for, I believe we can make an exception." Halloway says as we head up to the fifth floor, stepping out so we can trek further in to find an elevator to take us even higher up.
"I've noticed. I came in pretty much as soon as you opened the building to tourists. Wanted to get here sooner but a friend had some different plans." I say, grabbin' my phone quick to check the time. Nine fifteen. Ain't too bad. Reckon I can get this knocked out fast. Best to get some observations down 'fore we do a real deep dive.
"I see. I also heard through the grapevine that you're on a tight schedule today. Something about a fashion show at the Gershwin later tonight. I suppose managers like you need to be there early to discuss layouts and plans for the evening." Halloway's spittin' straight facts. My face tells her everything she needs to know. She knows she hit the nail right on the head. "I'll try to keep things brief then. Wouldn't want to take up too much of your time."
"Hmm… East should be… this way. Good." I say to myself, just lookin' at where that sunlight is pourin' in. Yep. I'm fixin' to have some ideas. That's a good sign. Means I've found us a mighty fine spot. Reckon Halloway sees it too.
"Already getting ideas? I like that. Having your model face east to symbolize the new year coming in. Not a bad position." She's fixin' to agree with what I'm thinkin'. I'll need to sit down with City and Kati to hammer out the details, but I can hold off on that 'til Christmas time. For now, I best be headin' over to the Gershwin. I pull out my phone again to check the time. Nine forty-five. Hmm… Got a whole heap of time to kill.
"Well. That's all I wanted for right now. My apologies for being brief." I say as I head back to the elevator. Halloway don't seem to mind none, though.
"No apologies needed, Mr. Jenkins. You're a busy man. I do hope to see you again soon so that you can get a better idea of what you're wanting to see come December." She says 'fore she turns back to them big glass panes, lookin' out over Manhattan below as them elevator doors shut. It's a blur, truth be told. One minute I'm perched atop the Empire State Building and the next I'm down on the streets. Reckon I better get a move on. And get me some grub. I'm plumb famished. Never a good idea to skip breakfast.
I hop in my car and head out. I know a little spot that oughtta be right down the road from the Gershwin. Just a small bagel place. Ain't a bad idea. Won't take me long to get there, neither. Just a few minutes. Ain't too bad for a Thursday morning in Manhattan. I pull up, hop
out, and head on inside real quick to the counter. I already took a look at the menu, so I know exactly what I'm fixin' to get.
"Good morning. I'll have a bacon, egg and cheese breakfast sandwich with black coffee if it's not too much to ask for." I tell 'em and the cashier scribbles it down right quick. She tells me the damage, I hand over the cash, and then I'm sittin' down with my coffee. I reach into my bad and pull out my laptop, lookin' to go over a few more things before I head on over to the Gershwin. Shoot schedule, who we're workin' with, those magazine deals - just the usual stuff. Then I start lookin' back at our old shoots, really checkin' out Kati's work. She just knows what she's doin'. It's eerie. I knew she was somethin' else when City sent me back her own list of folks to call, and her name was right there at the top. All that hard work… Makes me wish I'd had someone like Kati in my corner when I wa first startin' out. Reckon it would've made them first few years a whole lot easier. Wouldn't have to be so hard on myself over every little thing. But enough talkin' 'bout that. Let me get down to brass tracks on what's comin'. Our first shoot after Halloween is gonna be down at Lincoln Park over in Jeresy City. Lydia's fixin' to make somethin' real nice for folks like Gold City, so I'm gonna jot this down real quick:
'Give Lydia a call'
Next up, we gotta figure out them lenses. A panorama might look purty good. Got that fountain all squared up. City sittin' right under it. Ain't a bad id-
"Here's your sandwhich, sir. Have a great day." A runner says as he hands me my sandwich. I thank him and take a lil' bite just to see how it tastes. Ain't bad. I take another one 'fore I get back to where I was at. Right. Lenses. Panoramic shot. Gold City sat right there under that fountain. That'll do for a starter. The nitty-gritty… Low and close shots lookin' up, with that fountain hangin' over Gold City. She's gonna love that one. I reckon Kati will, too. Them seem real fond of them close-up shots. Got me wonderin' why… Nah. Ain't gonna go there. Best to just mind my own beeswax.
I finish up my food and drink the last of my coffee, tuckin' my laptop back in my bag after I toss my trash. I pull my phone out again. Eleven-fifteen. Still got a bit of time to kill, though I ain't sure what
I'm gonna through with it. I might head over to the Gershwin now. Reckon I ought to make sure all of Gols City's clothes are squared away. I'll give Brouillard's piece a quick look-see. Might even holler at him to see if he's actin' all fidgety if he's already there.
…
…
…
…
That ain't a bad idea.
I head out of the place just as quick as I came in and hop in my car, fixin' to head down the road toward the Gershwin. Before long, I'm there, and as luck would have it, Brouillard's there too. I step out and he spots me, hollerin' for me to come on over. So I do, seein' a big ol' grin on his weathered face.
"Ah, Monsieur Jenkins. I see you have come early today as well." He says, givin' me a friendly greetin'.
"Well, I had a lot of time to spare so I thought I'd come up earlier than needed. Managers all have a meeting at around one this afternoon to discuss line-ups. And three of us need to figure out wat the performance order is." I tell him as we head into the theater. Out footsteps echo a mite as we make our way down to the stage, trekkin' up those old steps to get to the back.
"Interessant. (Ineresting.) Very interesting. I'm hoping Madame City is the last performance. End the night properly and so forth." Brouillard responds when we finally get backstage. He leads me over to where that dress is hangin', and I can see right quick that he has made some changes: a slimmer waist, a bit more room in the bust, and the hem's shorter so she won't trip in them heels he's got her wearin'. Reckin he took her critiquin' just fine. Good. just what I was hopin' to see.
"Hmm… You're quite the astute listener, Brouillard." I say as I turn to face him. That grin of his says it all. He's fixin' to see it on the runway. And he's mighty eager to see that performance. And that energy… well, it's just catchin'.
|-That same morning. The Met Cloisters, 99 Margaret Corbin Drive-|
"An art museum? Certainly an interesting choice. Never really considered myself an artist but I'm willing to see why you think I'd like this place." Gold says as I park my car. This medieval art museum wasn't my first choice. Not even at the top of my list. But… It seemed the most promising. Bármilyen okból. (For whatever reason.) Maybe… Just maybe there's something here that can turn some gears in her head. I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of my car, listening as she does the same thing.
"I'll take that as a compliment." I say as I meet her on the sidewalk. "Ready?"
"Always. Come on." Gold says as she starts walking, heels clicking away on the pathway as we make our way to the entrance of the museum. Immediately, she stops, taking notice of how the building is designed.
"It looks… It looks like an old monastery." She says, turning to face me with a bewildered look on her face. "What's the theme? Religion?"
"Medieval art." I respond, piecing together my next words carefully. "I thought it could maybe get some gears turning."
"Maybe it will." City responds as she continues to make her way up the cobblestone path, heels clicking away with each footfall. "There's only one way to find out."
We enter the building, immediately stopping in front of some tapestries. Seems they've gotten Gold's attention. Seems I was right. I walk over to her, looking at the same tapestry she is, taking in it's appearance. Met might get a kick out of this one.
"Reminds me of the Venetian flag." I say as I give that lion another look. Gold turns to me briefly before she looks back at the tapestry.
"Hmm… maybe. It's just a normal lion, though. Not the Lion of Saint Mark." She says as she starts walking through the "abbey", looking at various pieces as she goes. I decide to follow, wanting to see where she goes. I can't quite get a good reading, but it seems like she's heading outside towards a garden in the courtyard. Maybe gardening can be something that occupies her time. The cool air immediately hits me as soon as I'm outside the building, but Gold doesn't seem to react much to it. I mean, she did grow up in Canada and Hokkaido. Maybe she's used to the cold. She goes over to a tree, kneeling down to read the little plate on the ground, wanting to know more about it while I'm more so looking at it's autumn foliage. The hues of red, orange and yellow with the occasional splash of purple are quite the sight to behold. Then there's Gold City underneath all of it.
Don't even start.
Not you again…
Oh yes, it's me again. Don't get deluded. You'd drive her away. And then you'll have nothing once more.
Megint rosszul olvasom a helyzetet. (Reading the situation wrong, once again.) I'm being realistic.
Yeah, putting me down for things I can't control. How realistic of you.
Egyet kell értenem vele. (I have to agree with her.)
I immediately tune out of that interrogation, not wanting the moment to be ruined or lost as Gold stands up, turning to look at me.
"Is this a place you came to often when you were younger?" She asks, thinking that there's more to coming to the Cloisters than simply wanting to find her an interest other than fashion and modeling.
"Eh… Not really. Only, like, three times with anya and that was about it." I respond, thinking about all the time ápa and anya came down to the city. "I mostly went to the zoos, natural history museum and aquarium when it came to family outings. What about you? Did you ever go to similar places when you lived in Oshawa?"
"Hmm… Can't quite think of the specifics but I do vaguely remember some trips to the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto." Gold starts, thinking about her words as she goes. "Wasn't necessarily an art museum, it had fossil exhibits and many displays about various cultures that call Ontario home, but apparently it left a mark on me. Well, if you take my brother and Père at their words."
"Why do they think that?" I ask amusingly, taking this chance to learn a bit more about this woman. Not like there's much more to learn about her, but little secrets every now and that can't hurt, right? "Apparently one of the special exhibitions we perused through was focused on French fashion from the eighties and Père took note of how enraptured I was with the displays. I think that's what made me interested in modeling. I wanted to look just like some of the women in the photos the exhibition had." She says as she turns again, looking towards the well in the center of the courtyard. She walks over to it, looking down into the structure before walking back inside the museum. I once again follow her, but I get the feeling like she has seen what she wanted to here. That suspicion seems to be confirmed when I see her take a deep breath, steadying herself before she speaks up.
"Okay. I think I've seen enough. Can't quite say if anything here was enough to pique my interest, but…" Gold trails off, seemingly not wanting to disappoint me with her thoughts but realizing she failed. "I'll keep this thought in the back of my mind. Maybe sleeping on it will change my mind."
"That's… That's fine, actually. I didn't really think I'd find something that gets your interest immediately anyway." I tell her as we make eye contact. It's subtle, but there's something there in the pale blue of her eyes. I just can't tell what it is. Longing? Yearning? Nem. Ez nem lehet igaz. (No. That can't be right.) I've seen nothing but confidence from her the entire time we've known each other. If she's longing for something, what could it be? Definitely not me. I… I'm not that delusional. I don't deserve to be with someone like Gold City. Nem mintha számítana. (Not that it matters.) I doubt she's attracted to women. We eventually break this eye contact, which if I'm being realistic, was barely half a second. But it felt like a lifetime. She then starts walking, heels clicking away once more on the abbey's stone floor, me following behind her with dull footfalls in Chucks.
"You make Yonkers seem like a quaint little town." Gold says after finishing her salad. I mean, she isn't necessarily wrong, but…
"I mean, you're not wrong. But there wasn't really much to do in Yonkers. Always had to come down into NYC or head up into the Adirondacks if we wanted to do anything interesting." I say, watching as her ears perk up.
"The Adirondacks?" She asks, ears still standing straight up as she looks at me from across the table.
"They're mountains upstate. We'd go up there every summer at the end of July into the start of August. Me, Met and Rose. I really enjoyed it whenever we went up there. Hiking on the trails was always a treat." I start saying, watching as that same look from the Cloister comes back into her eyes.
"Who's Rose? I assume she's a friend of you and Met." Gold says, not knowing that little part of history.
"Rose, uh… She is… was my first girlfriend. We split not too long after she moved out west and started college in Los Angeles." I start, watching as Gold's ears droop ever so slightly. Ez nem azt jelenti, amire gondolok, ugye? (That doesn't mean what I think it means, does it?)
"Oh, I see." She says, immediately assuming the worst from the little I've said.
"We… We're still friends. She just didn't think that we could pull off a long-distance situation. In a lot of ways, we're better as friends than we were as a couple." I say, watching as her ears rise slowly. Though they don't stand straight like they were doing. I think she's still trying to process what I said, though she doesn't show it on her face. De az a tekintet a szemében... Mit jelenthet? (But that look in her eyes... What could it mean?)
"I see… Is she nice, at least?" City then asks, wanting to know more about Rose.
"Very nice. She's kind, caring and thoughtful. A bit on the cynical side but she still has a sense of humor." I start saying as City watches me intently. "Met's trying to get her back in New York around New Year. She's taking a break from UCLA, so… If you… feel inclined…"
"I think I would. You've already painted quite the picture in my mind. She seems like someone I would at least be cordial with." She says as our food arrives.
"Here you go. Two full plates of pasta primavera. I hope two ladies enjoy your meal." The waiter says as he sets down the plates. It's one expensive lunch but with how the money from each shoot is being split, me and Gold are able to afford this with a lot of ease. Still can't believe I'm getting a full quarter of that money… I watch as City starts to twirl her fork in her pasta, wanting to get enough one it before she takes her first bite. I decide to do the same, mirroring her actions quite well given that I'm a lefty. Once I think I have enough on there, I bring my fork up and start eating. hmm… Not bad. It's quite nice. I bring my fork down and get some more before I notice that Gold is looking at me. Is… Is she… Nem. Nem tehet ilyet. (No. She can't be doing that.) I'm imagining things. I go to take another bite, and I catch her staring again. Something's up. I want to know what it is.
"Is something on my face?" I ask, bringing attention to this.
"Uh… Shitsurei shimasu ka? No, nothing's wrong. Why do you ask?" She says, ears going flat against her head like she was just caught doing something she shouldn't have been doing.
"You were, uh… You were staring. I thought that there was something wrong from that. I'm sorry." I say, now feeling guilt and second-hand embarrassment.
"Oh, no. Ne vous excusez pas (Don't apologize.) If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. I just…" She starts trailing off, which could mean any number of things. "I don't know. You're quite the looker, you know that?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, watching as Gold's ears relax again.
"What do you think it means?" She retorts before taking a bite of her food. She then speaks up again after swallowing. "I'm saying that you're good looking. I'm sure a lot of women would find you attractive in one way or another." I… This… Tudja, hogy flörtöl velem? Mert ez az egyik módja annak.(Does she know that she's flirting with me? Because that's certainly one way to do it.)
"Sounds like you're trying to say that you find me attractive." I say, immediately regretting it as the largest blush appears on her face.
"Well, when you put it that way… ahem" She quickly clears her throat before she continues. "I don't think I necessarily have to be queer to find another woman attractive." That sounds like a deflection. But I can't prove it. That, or it was just a playful kind of flirt. The kind that two friends engage in to try and make each other feel better. I've had that happen with a lot of my straight friends. I mean, it's nice, but… Kezdek előreszaladni. (I'm getting ahead of myself.) And I'm definitely overthinking things. That's all it was. Just some playful flirting between friends. Just… Just friends being… Friends…
"Hey, you okay? You seem a bit down. Was… Was it something I said? If so, I apologize. I did not intend t-" I stop her before she can continue.
"No, I'm okay. Just thinking." I tell her, lying so that I can hide how I really feel.
"Are you sure? The look in your eyes says… Quelque chose de différent. (Something different.)"
City responds, almost immediately seeing through me. Oh nem… (Oh no…)
"I promise I'm okay. You don't need to worry." I say, wanting this heat off my back. It seems to work, too.
"Well, if you say so, then I won't prod" She says, but I can tell she doesn't fully believe me. Frankly, I wouldn't either. I hate lying to people. Makes me feel like shit. But sometimes… Nincs más választásod. (You don't really have a choice.)
|-That afternoon. The Gershwin Theater, 222 West 51st Street-|
"So you want Gold City to go last. Is this for the runway portion of the show or fo-" He cuts me off 'fore I could even finish my question. Reckon them folks runnin' the show had the wholething rigged from the start.
"Oh yes, Mr. Jenkins. last in the performances. She is making quite the name for herself here in New York. May as well give the good ticket payers their money's worth, am I right?" The man says. Older fella. Reckon he's pushin' sixty. Seems to know his business.
"I'm well aware, Mr. Franklin. I've been keeping a very close eye on this since we started in June." I tell him as them other two managers head on out, lookin' plumb satisfied with where they landed on the setlist. But I could tell they were fixin' to want that end slot. You'd be a fool not to. "The amount of times she's been recognized while we've been out scouting locations for shoots is frustrating, if you ask me."
"Oh, I do not doubt you, Mr. Jenkins. I'm certain anyone would fins those happenings frustrating.But go, see to it that Mr. Brouillard has everything on his end ready and set one last time. We will discuss setting the stage for Gold City later after I have a chat with the others." Franklin says as he heads out. Reckon that leaves me plumb alone with my thoughts. What's fixin' to happen after tonight? How many more folks are gonna come a-botherin' us while we're out tryin' to get some work done? A double-edged sword, or so they say…
I start pacin' 'round the place, can't get it off my mind 'til I figure that I oughta check on Brouillard. So I head out the room toward the dressing areas and see Brouillard right quick.
"Miquel. Ready for tonight?" I ask, watchin' him spin 'round to face me so fast that he oughta've snapped his neck.
"Oui. More than ready, even. I am very excited to see her on the runway in it. Then of course, there's the performance. By the way, did yo-" I reckon it's my turn to cut someone off, 'cause I start jawin' 'fore he could even fiish his question.
"We're going last." I tell him, watchin' his face light up. Ain't quite what I was reckonin' to see, but it ain't no shock either.
"Très bien. (Very good.) I assume the good Mr. Franklin is discussing the performances of the other models a this current moment?" Brouillard goes and asks. So I just tell him straight.
"Yes. He is. What time is it right now?" I go 'head and grab my phone 'fore I say more. "Three thirty. Okay, we've got time. if he's being quick, I'd say he'll spend no more than forty five minutes with each model just to make sure they are satisfied with their placement and to make sure that everything is set for their performances."
"Ça fait du sens. (Makes sense.) I just hope that we'll have enough manpower to move all the heavy stuff." Brouillrad says, makin' me reckon up that we got that big ol' heavy platform Gold needs to jump off of.
"Right… We need to make sure it's in the right spot so that she hits the mats below and not the hard wood stage." I add to it. Don't want to be the reason she ends back up in the hospital. Brouillard just nods, grabs a notebook, and scribble that down.
"They should have scored where the platform goes the other day. But I'll make sure they get reminded of it." He says as he sets that notebook down. Then he wanders over to the water cooler, grabs a cup, pours a little out, and turns 'round to face me. "Would you like some?"
"A little wouldn't hurt." I say, watchin' him grab another cup and pour me some water. He then walks over and hands it to me, holdin' his own up like we're havin' a toast. A bit early for all that, but I ain't gonna rain on his parade.
"To a successful night." He says as I clink my foam cup against his. We then take a sip, and that water is ice cold, just the way I like it. Cold and refreshin'- Just what you need to quit overthinkin' things. To stop worryin' 'bout what's next and just be right here.
We're sittin' there well over an hour 'til we hear a knock at the door. Reckon it's Franklin. Brouillard heads on over and swings it open, and sure enough, there's Franklin standin' right there.
"Mr. Brouillard. Mr Jenkins. Good afternoon." He says, givin' us each a nod as he wanders in, proppin' his cane by the door 'fore he settles in. He looks my way first. "As you are aware, for this show we are not allowing outside photography. This was a first for the Gershwin and we were a bit apprehensive about certain things. My apologies for any frustration it may have caused. Perhaps if we organize another show of this caliber in the future we'll be more lax and lenient." He starts goin' on about why Kati can't bring her camera, even though it aint' much to look at. But I ain't fussin' none about it. We've both just settled it. "There will be a lot of eyes on Gold City tonight. Do you think she can handle this?"
"Gold City? Buckling under pressure? Mr. Franklin, with all due respect, I think you might be a bit slow." I think I got that old timer gigglin' with what I said. "Yes, she can handle it. It's not like she's been a model since she was a young teen or anything."
"Too right you are, Mr. Jenkins. But I wanted to have bases covered. So I asked anyway. As for you, Mr. Brouillard." Franklin turns to him, lookin' all stone-faced but still kinda sweet on him at the same time. "It is a marvelous piece you have made for Gold City. Are you certain that it will be as vibrant during the performance as it will be on the runway?"
"Oui, Monsieur Franklin. I made sure the lighting techs have everything on the right settings for her performance. Where it swells, where it dies down. How it follows her. How it illuminates the visage of her Louis." Brouillard gets goin, 'bout to plumb forget that platform. But he does bring it up, though. "Oh, j'ai presque oublié. (Oh, I almost forgot.) The platform. The stage technicians have scored where it is supposed to go as they change the scenery on stage, correct?"
"Yes, Mr. Brouillard. You do not need to worry about the platform. The stage hands here at the Gershwin are quite capable with their job." Franklin says settlin' me and Brouillard right. Then he takes a long ol' breath, shownin' that he's either done talkin' or we're fixin' to be here a hot minute.
"Gentlemen, there is much to discuss."
Well, there's my answer.
|-Later that afternoon. The Capri, 1700 Grand Concourse, the Bronx-|
"Hey Met, the fuck are you doing man?" I hear Scott yell. I'm not bein that loud, am I? "Lookin for a vest." I shout back, fully expectin him to not understand what I mean.
"Didn't you just wash yours? It should be hanging up in the tub." I hear him shouts back. Exactly as I expected.
"Not the battlevest you moron. A suit vest." I can tell by the silence that he is completely gobsmacked. Doesn't know what to say here. No che me spetaria che el savesse cossa dir. (Not that I'd expect him to know what to say.)
"I- A suit? For what? Where the hell are you going?" I then hear.
"A fashion show. Friend bought three tickets and gave me one." I ay, immediately takin not of the laughter comin from the livin room. I barge out out my room, tie not worn properly around my neck because I can't be fucked to learn how to actually wear a neck tie. "Don't you fuckin laugh. Have you seen my vest or not?" Scott has to take a second to get his bearins.
"I… I think it's hanging up in the laundry room." He says, wipin away a tear from his eye as I start walkin. "Why are you going to a fashion show, anyway? You know that's not your thing."
"My best friend's involved." I tell him as I open the closet doors, immediately eyein the black vest hangin over the washin machine. Scott stops laughin. He knows to never laugh when it's about Kati. Trừ khi nó là khách quan vui nhộn, tất nhiên. (Unless it's objectively hilarious, of course.)
"Oh... Okay, I get it now. Supporting your best friend and shit. Well tell her I said 'hi'. If you see her, obviously. She might be busy all night taking pictures." He says, no longer laughin at this point. Not even a hint of a chuckle.
"Well, we're gonna try and see if she can sneak us backstage, which… Good fuckin luck with that." I say as I slip the vest on. Hmm… fits just as good as I thought it would. "I'm an uma who's 6'10" and trans-masc. You will notice." Scott starts laughin again, this time, at the absurdity of the situation. No posso dir che ghe do ła colpa. (Can't say I blame him.)
I walk back into my room, wantin to see where those shoes were. Not used to dress shoes. Don't really like wearin 'em. But the dress code is apparently "semi-formal to formal", so do I really have much of a choice here? Tôi không nghĩ vậy. (I don't think so.) I'm just glad I have some that can fit my giant- ass feet. I slip them on, taking note of how tight it's gonna be despite them bein size 18s. Oh well. I stand, and take not that these aren't actually as bad as I thought they'd be. Hmm… Perhaps I misjudged them. I then walk back out, gettin Scott's attention as he tries to process what it is he's lookin at.
"You're not gonna tie the tie? Button up the vest?" He asks, still lookin like a dumbass.
"Pffp… No." I tell him as I start for the door, pausin the music before I head out. "I'll be back at like, one."
"One?! In the morning?! Oh hell naw. You better not-" I don't know what Scott says because I close the door behind me before I get a chance to actually hear it. I start makin my way down the hallway, reachin the elevator and hittin the button that'll take me to the ground floor. Don't have to wait too long for it to get here, at which point I enter, press the bottom floor, and hear the winches start whirrin, slowly lowerin the elevator down. It's a bit of a bumpy ride, but I make it to the bottom intact. I think. I'm fine. L’asensór xe na storia difarente. (The elevator is a different story.)
I start walkin down the sidewalk without too many weird looks. My goal: Subway. I'm gonna look real fuckin weird on the metro like this. But do I give a damn? Tuyệt đối không. (Absolutely not.) I find the nearest subway entrance and start makin my way down, pausin at a map to make sure I get on the right line. Vóio ndar a Brooklyn. (I want to head to Brooklyn.) So I should hop on the D-Line down to Grand Central. From there, I actually stay on the D-Line. It'll take me straight to Long Island Rail Road. All I gotta do after steppin off is head up to Flatbush and then I'm there. Alright. Have a plan now. I walk forward, pay my till so that the dirty capitalists can get more money out of the public and continue doin fuck all, and get on the train. Already, I've got eyes on me. Then again, I've always got eyes on me. Hard to miss a dude who's trans-masc, has ears and a tail and is also six foot fuckin ten. Speakin of being 6'10"… Họ thực sự nghĩ rằng họ có thể lẻn tôi vào hậu trường? Giống như địa ngục sẽ xảy ra. (They really think they can sneak me backstage? Like hell that'll happen.) I take a glance around, seein more than a few people who are dresses about as nice as I am. Hmm… Okay, more more nicely than I am. Guess they're headin to the Gershwin tonight, too. Sẽ không ngạc nhiên. (Wouldn't be surprised.) Honestly thought I'd see a lot more dumbasses and wannabe thugs considerin that this is the Bronx. But I guess that even they can freshen up every once in a while.
Another stop means more people pilin into the train. Gettin pretty full now. Wouldn't be surprised if most of them peel off at Grand Central. But I'm not. I'm stayin on the train until Brooklyn. Though with where I am currently standin… Podarìa sercar un fià de spasio pa respirar. (I could go for some room to breathe.) I start makin my way to a spot that isn't as crowded, lettin my intentions be known as I move. Though again, with how big I am, not that hard to miss.
"Excuse me. Pardon me. Comin through. Let me just squeeze in there real quick." I say to every person I pass as I reach the new spot. Little bit more wiggle room. Always nice. I then feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I pull it out and see that Jessica is textin me.
'On your way?' She's asked. It's only, what, five o'clock? Show doesn't start till seven? I've got time. 'Yeah. About tor each Grand Central.' I shoot back, knowin that it'll make Mark flip his shit. I can already feel the Sicilian copin as he knows that despite all of this: I will still make it to his place early. Magna merda e more, Mark. (Eat shit and die, Mark.) Another few stops and we're already at Grand Central, and just as I was thinkin, almost everyone currently on board steps off. Seems like they've got plans beforehand. Too bad for me, I guess. I stay in place, waitin for the train to start movin again towards Brooklyn. Shouldn't be much longer, honestly. Only a few more stops before I'm under the East River. And from there: Long Island Rail Road.
Only takes a few more minutes before I'm in Brooklyn. Then after that, I'm steppin off the train sooner than I though I'd be. Just gotta make my way to Flatbush Avenue, which should be… This way. This gets me to Prospect Park, so I just walk up Prospect Park West until I hit Flatbush. I'll know I'm there because it goes through the Army Plaza. No se pol mancar. (Can't miss that.) Once I'm up on the street, I start walkin towards Prospect Park, reachin it in no time, meanin that I'm already on the street I need to be on. Within a few minutes, I'm at the Army Plaza, which means I'm now on Flatbush. Good. Just need to follow this until I reach 6th Avenue, at which point I can see Mark despair. Seems he already is, judgin by how my phone is goin ballistic right now. I don't need to look to know it's Mark. Who else would be sendin texts to me that fast? A few more minutes go by and I'm already on 6th, and I can see their building. I already feel the grin formin. I quicken my pace, wantin to get there before six thirty. Hell, I might get there before six fifteen. Doesn't take long to get an answer. I reach the building, pull out my phone at check the time. Six ten. Very go-
"Ya muddafucka. HOW DO YA DO IT?!" I hear Mark shout as he steps outside, Jessica followin not too far behind.
"Uh… Let's not be so loud, Mark. I'd rather not cause a spectacle." She says as she gently tugs at his sleeve. Mark's got on one of his dad's old suits. Surprised he can fit in it. Meanwhile Jessica looks like she's stepped straight out of some Gala from the 1920s. I like how the green compliments her hair.
"Well you two look nice." I say, watchin Mark's face turn redder as I successfully ragebait him again in the span of twenty-four hours.
"Youse said… Dat you'd wear sumpin' nice, Met. What da fuhk is dis getup?" Mark then asks, takin a breath in between to try and calm himself.
"Is this not nice?" I ask, watchin as he clenches his fists before lettin them go.
"Ya look like a delinquent who somehow got invited to prom." He responds, takin another breath, still tryin to calm himself.
"Rich comin from someone who used to run with gangs when he was younger." I tell him as I look at Jessica. "I assume we're takin his car?"
"Well now, 'tis the only one we have that you can fit into." She says as she briefly looks at Mark, then back to me.
"Ain't dat de trooth. C'mon. Let's go befow traffic gets bad." He says, turnin on his heel and walkin towards where his car is, Jessica followin suit. Guess I have to as well.
I catch up to them as we reach Mark's car. He unlocks it and we all pile in. Naturally, I'm the one who has to get in the back. Stronzo. (Asshole.) Mark turns the key, lights the ignition and starts drivin while I'm still bucklin up, all while tryin to talk as he does so.
"Got any ideas on what we'll see? How much you wanna bet we bump into Gold City first?" He starts, already makin himself look like an idiot. Che l'è tipico dei siciliani. (Which is typical of Sicilians.)
"What makes you think she wouldn't be backstage?" I answer, watchin as Jessica turns back to me before turnin to Mark.
"I think Met's got a point. We'd have a grander chance of runnin' into Kati than Gold City." She says as she turns back to face me. "Got a similar notion?"
"More or less. Though I doubt we'll run into Kati before the show starts too. I saw a lot of people dressed nice on the metro. Place is gonna be packed tonight." I tell her as we get onto the Brooklyn Bridge. Bit of a bumpy ride, but we're all good by the looks of things. "Though a place like the Gershwin… How the hell are they gonna pull off a fashion runway?"
"Ya guess is as good as mine, Met. Eidda way, we're gonna find out real soon." Mark says as we keep drivin on the bridge. Doesn't take long before we're in Manhattan. The Gershwin is by Central Park, right? That sounds about right.
"I'm well exicted now, or ye ghad. How about you two?" Jessica asks she she flips her eyes between me and Mark.
"I mean, if you're excited, den I'm excited too." Mark responds. May as well make it a hat trick.
"I got no reason to complain." I say as Mark turns onto 8th Avenue. I'm seein a lot of people lookin fly walkin down the street. Guess we're gettin close. Mark slows as he sees this column too.
"Woah… I guess we're in da right place. You two get out first. I'll find somewheres to pahk an' I'll meet youse at da t'eatre." He says as he pulls up to the curb. Doin as he suggests, me and Jessica unbuckle and step out onto the sidewalk. Mark then pulls away to find his parkin spot, leavin me and Jessic to walk all the way to the Gerswhin on out own.
"A fair few folks here tonight, so there is." She says as she scans our surroundins.
"That's what it looks like, yeah." I say, doin the same, realizin that I've got a better view because of my height. "Huh… Think I see Kati. Though…"
"Though… what? Let's be off and meet up with her, shall we?" Jessica says, startin to walk towards where she thinks I see Kati. But I stop her.
"No, not a good idea. Qualcosa no va. (Somethin's wrong.)" I say as I get a hand on her shoulder. "She looks like she's in a rush. Like she's lookin for somethin." Jessica jumps up and down for a second before spottin Kati. Seems she can see the same thing I can.
"Hmm… More like lookin' for someone. An' we both know who." I tilt me head down after hearin those words come out of her mouth.
"Mà chúng tôi làm. (That we do.)"
|-That evening. The Gershwin Theater, 222 West 51st Street, Manhattan-|
"Really? Well, I can't imagine what that must've been like. Spending all that time with a guy, thinking that you have this real connection only to learn that he didn't see it the same way. Sorry that happened to you." The makeup artist says as she puts the finishing touches on. I haven't worn makeup like this in a little bit. C'est sympa, honnêtement. (It feels nice, honestly.)
"Well, that's what happens when most of the men who want to date you do so because you're a model. You get used to it, though. As morbid as that sounds." I tell her, taking a moment to breathe deeply. I don't want my nerves to get the better of me. Not when… she is out there right now.
"Oh, I believe you. As much as I like men, they can be simple minded and dense, sometimes. Not appreciating the finer details. Not like a woman can." She says, making my ears stand up slightly, almost hitting hers an their way up. She noticed. "Oh, that got your attention, didn't it?"
"Well, when you put it that way." I say, trying to be cordial while injecting some humor into the situation. "Something like that doesn't seem like the kind of thing you just spring onto someone."
"I prefer to live authentically to myself. Sometimes that means outing myself to strangers if I get to comfortable. I'm just lucky most people don't seem to mind it. For as much progress as there has been, it's still tough being queer. A bi woman especially." She says, bringing the brush up to my face one last time to put the final mark. "There. That should do it. What do you think?" She says as she spins me in my chair.
I look into the mirror, taking note on how well of a job she's done. I really do look like a ghostly bride.
"Hmm… Je suis impressionné. (I'm impressed.)" I say as I give my face another look in the mirror.
"I'll take that as a compliment. Not like it's my job to do this or anything." The makeup artist responds as she sets her brushes down. "Though, I will say, probably my finest work. Makes me wish I was your betrothed." I can feel my heart stop for a moment as she says that. Sore o sōzō shite mite kudasai. (Imagine that.) Me, marrying another woman. Inevitably, my mind goes exactly to where I think it will. To Kati. I have to hold back my laughter, but it is funny how all of this has happened so quickly. All of this in only four, close to five months now. Tonight will… show me whether or not we can continue like this. Yearning and pining for something that will cause our working relationship to collapse if we don't tread carefully.
"Oh please. You've flattered me enough." I say as I turn to face her again. I should thank her but… I don't think I ever got her name. C'est rude de moi. (How rude of me.) "But thank you… I apologize, I don't think I ever got your name. The thought never occurred to me until now."
"Verdant Green." She says as those piercing emerald eyes lock onto me. She's got some kind of idea in her head.
"You're quite the looker, you know that City?" Green says as she starts looking me up and down.
"So I've been told." I respond, humoring her flirtatious advances, which I am certain she will stop soon after this. She's most likely assuming that I am not attracted to women. I don't blame her for that, though.
"I'm sure you have, but damn… Beauty of the Century indeed. No picture can do you justice. And you're just my type, too. Shame you don't swing like I do. No offense, of course." Green says as she starts to put her supplies away, keen on watching the show or maybe even heading home for the night. I feel odd, receiving a compliment like that from her. C'est gentil, oui. (It's nice, yes.) And it did make my heart flutter, but it's not like when I'm with Kati. That is an entirely different level. Kati is…
She's… Kusowwatakushi wa kotoba ga hontō ni sore ga watakushi ga kanojo o mite iru hōhō o setsumei suru koto wa dekinai to omoimasu. (Damn, I don't think words can truly explain how it is I see her.) But I'll continue to humor Verdant Green while we are still here.
"Well, I'm of the opinion that I don't have to be queer to find another woman attractive." I say, watching as Green's ears perk up as she hears the words.
"Oh really? Go on." She responds, eyes locking onto mine once more.
"Well, you for example. You are a very attractive woman. I'm sure any man or woman should consider themselves lucky to spend a single night with you." I say, watching the faintest blush creep up on her face. Not really my intent, but I'll take that as a success.
"You wouldn't know the half of it, City." She says as I hear something from outside. Verdant hears it too, judging by how her ears now stand straight up just as mine, turning slowly to see where the sound is coming from. It's two people talking. Outside the dressing room. I think I know who it is.
"You know you can't be back here, right?"
"Does it matter? I just… Just let me have this, okay?"
"Kati. Don't do anything stupid."
"Nem fogom. (I won't.) Just… Trust me?"
"sigh… You have twenty minutes before the runway starts. Make it quick."
"Seems like someone wants to see you before you walk. I'll give you two some privacy." Verdant says as she finished putting her supplies away. She then takes them and slides them into her bag before walking away from me, opening the door and saying something to Kati as she walks in. I close my eyes, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm myself. Elle me surveille. Je le sais. (She's watching me. I know it.) Kati's probably taken a back by everything she sees. The entire piece with the corpse paint. I open my eyes, stand up, turn around and-
"Oh… You look…" Handsome. I almost say handsome out loud as I see what Kati is wearing. I expected some kind of dress or a skirt. But no. It's more akin to a suit. Just without a jacket. The black vest complimenting the deep and dark red shirt alongside the dress pants and the verdantly green shoes. I can feel the blood rushing to my head as I'm most certainly blushing under all this makeup. "You look nice." I manage to eek out, saving myself… Both of us from embarrassment.
"Uh, yeah… You… You too, City." She says, almost whispering it for most likely the same reason. She then ducks her head down. A bit too fast by the sight of her adjusting her glasses while still looking at the ground.
"Is there… Any particular reason you're back here right now? You know the whole event starts in twenty mintutes, right?" I ask, not sure why Kati's here. She knows she can't be backstage right now. "I need to get going. I'll see yo-"
"I… I know. I just… I needed to see you beforehand. I know it sounds stupid but…" She starts but quickly trails off, almost ashamed to say the next thing out loud. J'aimerais qu'elle le fasse. (I wish that she would.) What I'd give to hear her say it. To get some form of validation for all the things this woman has made me feel over the past four months. I slowly walk towards her, stage shoes clicking against the dressing room floor as I do so.
"Hey, look at me." I say, watching as Kati slowly tilts her head so that we can make eye contact. "I am glad that you're here. Being around you… I don't know how to explain it, but it calms me down somewhat. Keeps me steady." I watch her blush return in force, turning her naturally tan skin a deeper shade of red in only a few seconds. I don't think Kati will ever get used to someone telling her things like that. Watakushi wa oroka. (Let alone me.) "Come on, let's head down." Kati simply nods, and we both head out of the room.
It's a tense walk towards the ground floor. The silence just looms over us. Someone needs to say something. N'importe quoi. (Anything.) So I break the silence.
"You do look nice, tonight. From the looks of it, you've had those clothes for a while, haven't you?" I say, tilting my head only slightly so that I can both see where I'm going and judge Kati's reaction.
"Uh, thanks. Yeah, I've… I've had these for a while." She starts, unsure if she should continue the thought. "I'm surprised they still fit."
"How long have you had them?" I then ask, wanting to know more.
"Since high school. I, uh… These are actually what I wore to prom in junior year." Kati responds, her voice becoming less shaky as she presumably remembers some good memories. "It's funny. I wanted to wear this cute little dress I saw in the mall one time but Rose told me not to. Said I'd look better in a vest and jacket."
"I think she was right." I say, watching Kati turn her head away from me again. Not a good idea, especially since she almost walks into the railing as we reach the stairs. I almost chuckle at that, but I manage to keep it down. "You should watch where you're going." I say as Kati finds her place besides me again as we start walking down the stairs. She then holds out her arm, as if wanting me to take it.
"Are, uh… Are you okay getting down stairs in those shoes or do you need some help?" She asks, her face flushing red again. I don't need the help. I can walk fine in these shoes, regardless of stairs. But something is telling me to take her up on the offer. But as I'm about to respond, the little oni and nain rouge appear on my shoulders. Tokei shikake no yō ni. Tōzen da. (Like clockwork. Naturally.)
How uncouth.
Quiet, you.
You should listen. What happens if someone comes across this and see the two of you?
No one will see it. Now leave me be, foul demons.
I block their voices out in my head, slowly setting my hand against Kati's arm. She looks away again, clearly not thinking that I would take her up on this. Whatever she is thinking and feeling right now… It's flashing across my mind as well.
"Not particularly. But you did make the offer. And there doesn't seem to be anyone else around at the moment. May as well, right?" I say as I start walking, something that gives Kati some confidence as she follows me. It doesn't take long for us to reach the bottom of the stairs, where I know we need to part for now. "I need to go this way. Lineup for the runway is over here." I say as Kati looks at her watch.
"You've got five minutes. Go. I'll see you later." She says as I start walking. Fast. I just hope that no- one is miffed about my tardiness. Ce serait très inconsidéré. (That would be very inconsiderate.)
|-Later that evening-|
"Holy shit, a succubus. Surprised dat one got the green light. Just look at how much skin she's got showin'." Mark says as the next model begins her walk down the runway. I don't know why I was surprised to see them use this space on the ground. Hindsight says it's the perfect place to put a runway: Plenty of space for lighting and cameras. Good clearance for a raised runway. It also gives good coverage in case people thought it would start raining. I really should think more ahead like this. "Me too, Mark." I tell him as I feel Met loom over me on my right. Well, he's looming over everyone here. Nem mintha sok választása lenne. (Not that he has much of a choice.)
"Yeah. She's a real looker. When do you think City's walkin down? Has to be soon, right?" Met asks as Jessica tries to look through any window she can find.
"She could be next, she could be last, she could be in the middle. All I know is that this started ten minutes ago, so it did." She says as she finally gets a good look at the model. "Woah… Keep 'er away from a convent." I hear her mumble to herself. You can take the Irishwoman away from the church, but you can't take the church away from the Irishwoman, it seems.
The announcer speaks up again, but it's not who we want to see, so I don't pay it any attention. All I know is that Mark is having his faith tested with every model that walks down, occasionall saying things that are presumably to calm Jessica, who is just engrossed with everything she sees right now. Then there's Met. The perpetual fish out of water. I nudge him with my elbow, making him shift down so that we can have a "private" conversation.
"Qualcosa che te dà fastidio? (Somethin botherin you?)" He asks, thinking that something is wrong. I mean, he isn't necessarily wrong. But this is different.
"Surprised you came here. This isn't your thing." I say directly into his ear so that he can hear all of it. "Yeah, well, you're involved. I know how much stuff like this means to you. Vì vậy, tôi ở đây. (So, here I am.)" He responds, that usual smugness I know and "love" coming back as he looks out at the runway. "Woah… Ma Trành…" I… Erre nem számítottam. (I didn't expect that.) "You know that one?" I ask as Met looks down at me.
"A little bit. It's Ma Trành. So called 'slaves of the tiger demon'. Pretty nasty spirit in the folklore of the Mường. They live in Hòa Bình. Just south of Hanoi. That province got incorporated into Phú Thọ back in June." Met says as he looks back at the runway, seeing the model finish her walk. "Some ofông nội's friends from the war were pissed about that one." He then turns to face me again. "I need to see who that woman was. Meet the designer too." Met then turns his head again to where the model just was, watching as she passes us by again when I hear him speak one more time. "Ben, se Jessica la pensa che el so pìcolo piano el riesse, magari mi no. (Well, if Jessica thinks her little plan succeeds, maybe I won't.)"
"What plan?" I ask, getting his attention as his ears perk up, head turning to face me.
"Huh? What?" He responds, trying his best to play dumb. De tudom, mit hallottam. Azt hiszi, ügyes a flancos Velencei beszédével. Nem fog. (But I know what I heard. He thinks he's slick with his fancy Venetian talk. He's not.)
"You heard me. What plan?" I ask again, watching as his ear's droop. Seems I'm not in the know for some certain details. I then feel someone tug at my sleeve. I turn around and find Jessica there.
"Ah, I nearly forgot to ask: Would ya be able to sneak the three of us backstage when this is over? D'ya think?" She asks me. Ó. Nos, ez érdekes. (Oh, well that's interesting.) I look at Jessica for a second, then to Mark who's engrossed by the next model coming down the runway, then to Met, who's sweating. Met… Sweating… He thinks it can't be done. I give Met one last look before I turn my attention back to Jessica.
"Oh yes. I most certainly can." I tell her loudly, seeing Met's face turn red as he hears the words. Valaki bosszús. Jó. Ez a karma, te seggfej. (Someone's annoyed. Good. That's karma you asshole.)
"WHAT?! No, you can't be…" He starts, trying not to cause a scene in front of everyone here. Some people notice though, but quickly ignore it as another model starts her walk. "The fact that I'm six ten alone means this won't work."
"Oh hush, you. I can make it work." I tell him, noticing how his tail is swinging erratically, most likely so that he doesn't hit anyone with it. He's not doing too bad, honestly. "Security will probably start being lax around five minutes after. Most models tend to clear off around that time. We should be clear to go then." I say, again watching his face turn red with annoyance.
"You… Anh phải đứng về phía Tôi đây, Kati. (You're supposed to be on my side here, Kati.)" Met says, still flabbergasted by me siding with Jessica over him. Then Mark comes over, and Met gets even more annoyed.
"Told ya not to woy." He says as the announcer's voice comes through again. This time, it feels different. Like I know what she's about to say. Suspicions that are soon confirmed.
"Up next is a model described as the Beauty of the Century. Someone with looks you see only once every one hundred years. Coming all the way from Hokkaido in Japan, she is showcasing the finest work of Canadian fashion designer Miguel Brouillard who wants all of us to get a taste of Quebec's paranormal vistas: It is Gold City showcasing Chute de la Dame Blanche."
Everyone immediately turns their head southwest as the smoke machine starts again. Camera flashes go off, people gasp in awe. Then we see her. Gold City. In that stunning lavender dress and ghostly makeup. With all the smoke and fog, she really does look like a ghost doing this. I can only imagine what the performance is going to look like. It's slow. Well, not really. Models have to move fast on the runway but… It feels like times slowed down. I can feel every step she takes reverberate through the platform and onto the ground beneath it. How she's singularly focused on the moment, not being phased by any of the camera flashes that go off. Impressive for any model, but umas in particular have a nasty time with it. And Gold City doesn't even flinch. Same as our shoots. It's mesmerizing, really. Annyira elbűvölő. (So completely mesmerizing.)" Somehow, amid all this noise, I can hear a few people talk about what they're seeing.
"Woah…"
"She's even more beautiful in person…"
"That makeup is so good on her."
"That dress, though."
"Whoever hooks her is a lucky man."
Aaaaaaaaaaand that's when I tune out. Don't want to hear any of that. Instead, I focus my attention on Gold City, who's now making her way back up the runway at this point and for the briefest of moments, I think her eyes drift. Again, it's only for a split second, but it's as if she consciously changed her focus to find me and did. I knew she was hoping to casually spot me in the crowd, but this feels… It feels targeted. Like she was actively searching for me among all these people. But then again, it easily could have been a trick of the light. My mind messing with me like it usually does. It was most likely nothing. Just me imagining things. Overthinking things. Abba kell hagynom, hogy ennyire reménykedjek. (I need to stop getting my hopes up so much.) By this point, the last few models are making their way down the runway, and Gold City is back inside the theater, getting ready for her performance. Meanwhile, I'm out here, considering the death of my professional career as a fashion photographer all because of one woman. The runway soon ends, and I feel Met tug at mt sleeve on my right.
"Dai. (Come on.) Time to head inside."
|-Inside the theater-|
Iki o sutte iki o hakinasai. (Breathe in and breathe out.)
Watakushi no kokoro o shūchū sasete kudasai. (Focus my mind.)
Watakushi no shinkei o ochitsukasete kudasai. (Calm my nerves.)
Iki o sutte iki o hakinasai. (Breathe in and breathe out.)
Watakushi no kokoro o shūchū sasete kudasai. (Focus my mind.)
Watakushi no shinkei o ochitsukasete kudasai. (Calm my nerves.)
Iki o sutte iki o hakinasai. (Breathe in and breathe out.)
Watakushi no kokoro o shūchū sasete kudasai. (Focus my mind.)
Watakushi no shinkei o ochitsukasete kudasai. (Calm my nerves.)
One more time, deep breaths through my diaphragm as I look at myself in the mirror. I wish my tail would sit still. It's getting uncomfortable like this, sitting in this stiff chair. That's when I hear a knock at the door. Must be Randy.
"I'm in here." I say as the door opens. Just as I thought, Randy walks through, eyes looking nervous. Je suppose que je ne suis pas le seul. (Guess I'm not the only one.)
"You looked good out there on the runway. Think you can handle this?" He asks me, giving me a once over to make sure everything is in place.
"This again?" I start, feeling a bit insulted by his question. "Yes, I can handle the performance. We always did winning concerts after every race. Of course, the racer who took the gold was the star of the show, and that wasn't always me. But I can handle myself on a stage, Randy." I briefly look at myself in the mirror through me peripheral vision before focusing back on Randy. "I'll be fine. Nothing that I can't handle."
"Just wanted to make sure. You looked a bit… Well I don't want to say unfocused because that seems disrespectful. Also, with the way the lighting was rigged and all the cameras it's possible that I was just seeing things." He says, and I immediately know what he means. I caught the briefest glimpse of her. Of Kati. In the crowd by the runway. It took everything I had to keep my head in place. Shikashi, watakushi no me... (But my eyes…) My eyes betrayed me in that moment. A mistake. A mistake that… only three people will truly know about. But enough on that.
"How much longer until I'm supposed to be in the wings?" I then ask, wanting to know what the time currently is. Randy pulls his jacket sleeve back for a moment to look at his watch before he gives me an answer.
"It's about nine fifteen. Riley should be close to the end of her performance. Not too long after that, ignoring stage crews getting everything in place for you, obviously." He says as he turns on his heel, but not before saying one last thing. "Good luck. An' give 'em one helluva show, City." For a brief moment, it feels as if Randy let something slip. That odd mask that he's been wearing ever since I met him. But I shouldn't ruminate on that. Not in a moment like this.
"I will."
Iki o sutte iki o hakinasai. (Breathe in and breathe out.)
Watakushi no kokoro o shūchū sasete kudasai. (Focus my mind.)
Watakushi no shinkei o ochitsukasete kudasai. (Calm my nerves.)
Iki o sutte iki o hakinasai. (Breathe in and breathe out.)
Watakushi no kokoro o shūchū sasete kudasai. (Focus my mind.)
Watakushi no shinkei o ochitsukasete kudasai. (Calm my nerves.)
Iki o sutte iki o hakinasai. (Breathe in and breathe out.)
Watakushi no kokoro o shūchū sasete kudasai. (Focus my mind.)
Watakushi no shinkei o ochitsukasete kudasai. (Calm my nerves.)
"Everything should be in place. You ready?" One of the stage hands asks me as he finishes rolling back the winch that holds the backdrop up.
"Of course I'm ready." I tell him, taking one last deep breath to steady myself as the announcer begins to speak. She has a rather lovely voice. I wonder if she is one of the many actors who works here. Has she performed in any operas? A thought for another day.
"Picture this, if you will. It is the 18th Century. The late 1750s. The middle of the French and Indian War. A young and fair woman named Mathilde is, betrothed to the ever charming Louis. But duty calls, and Mathilde sees her love off as he must defend their home against the British redcoats who seeks to take it by force. She thinks nothing of it, at first. But when the battle concludes in a French victory and she finds herself at their usual waiting spot, the place their love first blossomed."
The music starts, and I walk out the spotlight immediately finding me as I roam around the stage, taking in the decor and props, doing my best to sell the bit. That I am Mathilde searching for her beloved Louis. The music matches the scene, starting slow and quiet to set the pace.
"Mathilde waits and waits, becoming more and more restless ad Louis fails to arrive. 'Where could my beloved be?' She thinks to herself as she begins to search the surrounding woods for him."
I remember my notes. Gradually become more annoyed the longer the search goes on. And so I make some of my movements more and more erratic as I fail to find my beloved Louis. All while the announcer continues to tell the story, pacing her narrative in sync with the music as it grows more restless with each measure.
"Mathilde nearly gives up. She thinks that, perhaps, Louis had forgotten where they had planned to meet. A simple mistake. One that could be forgiven easily should they meet later in the night. But fate had other plans…"
I pause, noticing the glint by the front stage left corner. Comme prévu, naturellement. (As planned, naturally.) I make my way to it as the music pauses for dramatic effect. I look down to feign disbelief and sorrow.
"Mathilde learns that… Louis did not survive the battle. Perhaps in the most horrific and sorrowful way. She finds his body at the bottom of the falls, floating lifelessly by the shore. Mathilde's grief is immeasurable. She begins tearing away at the wedding gown she had made for their marriage. A gown she had tailored herself. Thread by thread. Sheet by shee. Until it is the most bare it can be while still covering her."
I make the motions, doing my best to sell the bit. Make it believable. Make it seem like I am grief stricken and mourning my soon to be husband. Peut-être d'une certaine façon... Je fais juste ça ce soir. (Perhaps in a way... I am doing just that tonight.) Because my mind drifts. I am simultaneously focused on the performance and thinking about Kati. How handsome she looked earlier. The blush on her face when I set my hand against her arm. How she looked so small and cute from the runway. How she'll… No. I can't think about that now. I need to focus. I drop to my knees, head in my hands, on half of my mind mock crying over the man that I will now never marry. The other wrestling with this lingering demon of bisexuality that has clawed away at me for almost five months now. Then, I hear the announcer's voice once more.
"Mathilde's grief… cannot be assuaged. She cannot be consoled. Her one and only, her beloved Louis lies dead. Limply floating by the shore of the river at the base of the falls where his blood now staind the water a deep crimson. She then looks up, seeing the top of the falls. And it's then that a morbid solution presents itself."
I do as the story demands. I lift my head, jolting my shoulders to give the impression of one last sob raking my body. This is when the idea forms. Jump. Jump and see Louis once more.
"She sees the water at the top. Sees it at the bottom. 'Yes. This is how I can see my beloved once more.' Mathilde thinks to herself as she begins to climb the falls."
I quickly make my way to the side of the platform's scaffolding, where I being to climb, my faux suicide being the only thing occupying my entire mind. I reach the top, make my way to the edge and look out, where the announcer gives her last bit of narration.
"Now at the top, the smallest hint of hesitation forms in Mathilde's mind. 'No. This is sinful. I cannot do this.' But it is overruled as she takes the last tentative steps towards her doomed fate."
This is when time feels like it stops. Da kara kanzen ni soshite totsuzen. (So completely and so suddenly.) For a brief moment, I feel Mathilde's hesitation. As if her spirit is possessing me in this moment. I scan the crowd one last time, and I find myself shocked by what I see. Whether it be coincidence or some unholy miracle, I find her. I find Kati. Her face… Her blush… Goddesses help me now. How I wish to see it everyday. Those kind and soft eyes seeing the real woman behind this forsaken and damnable mask. How she tears down all my defences and barriers with the slightest ease. And how I let her do so because I enjoy it. Moshi shunkan ga atta to shitara… ima ga sono toki da. (If ever there was a moment... Now is that time.) But enough of that. Because there is only one way forward if I'm even going to consider the first step. Time resumes. My foot leads… And gravity takes care of the rest as the music reaches it's final crescendo. One last bout of energy before the end comes. Before my end comes.
I fall.
I do not know where.
But I fall.
thud
The lights dim, and the audience is in an uproar. A deafening applause reaches my ears, yet I do not hear it. An active choice on my part.
Someone died tonight.
That someone was Gold City.
At least… the Gold City the world knew and admired and "loved".
In her place, there is someone else. Quelqu'un qui a tellement à apprendre sur lui-même. (Someone who has so much to learn about herself.)