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bling dear me.
 Mother, you are such a snob. But you re right. A classic cut suits
Chantelle best.
" 60 "
CHANCE
She nodded intently.  You were wise to go under three carats.
As if I weren t standing right there being discussed, she continued,
 Anything larger would look vulgar on a hand like hers. And the
platinum is ideal for her skin tone.
I was impressed. Eric must have paid quite a lot of money for a
fake that would fool a connoisseur like his mother. I called to mind what
a fag hag might say in a situation like this, and gushed,  That s exactly
what I thought too. I just couldn t believe it when he proposed.
 I think we were all surprised, Mrs. Standish said dryly.
She summoned a solidly built maid, who picked up my bags,
ordered Eric to bring his, and led us to an upstairs room with views of
the sea. There was one bed.
 I thought you said we d be in separate rooms, I hissed, when
we were finally alone with our luggage. Assailed by mental images of
Mrs. Standish and the maid inspecting our sheets the next morning, I
bemoaned,  This is a huge mistake.
Eric shrugged off my fears.  Chill, sweetie. There are four more
bedrooms on this level. I ll take one of them. No one will notice a
thing.
 Are you crazy? That maid tells your mother everything, trust
me.
 Maria s okay, he said.  She s been with us forever.
I rolled my eyes. About some things males had no idea.  I must
have lost my mind agreeing to this farce. Your mother s no fool. She ll
see straight through us.
 Not if we convince her we re in love. How hard can it be?
Clearly he had no idea what women said to each other when
men were not around. I was going to be grilled on every detail of our
supposed love affair. And if my story didn t match his&  We need to go
over the details again, I said, panicking.
 We met at our friend Suzie s birthday party six months ago and
hit it off right away, Eric said.
 Yes. I picked up the story of our bogus courtship.  Then we
started dating. Movies, the opera, romantic walks.
 I proposed a month ago, just before I heard about Dad.
 We were on the pier at Fisherman s Wharf, I completed.  You
put the ring on my finger and said,  Marry me or I ll go back to England
with a broken heart and have to return the ring for half price. 
" 61 "
Grace Lennox
 Satisfied? he asked.
I nodded but I was unable to shake off a feeling of doom.  Your
family knows you re gay. They ll never buy this.
 They ve always wanted to believe it was just a phase. Mother
tells all her friends I m bisexual. Eric took my arm and steered me
toward the door.  It could be worse. We could be straight and doing
this for real.
I cast a departing glance around our pre-honeymoon suite.
 Where s the computer?
 She ll survive for twenty-four hours without you. Eric knew all
about Reverie and said  she was probably a cable guy with a big gut
and a comb-over. I didn t bother arguing.
 I know, but I also have client e-mails to deal with. My job isn t
like yours. I don t own shares in the company.
He gave me an unusually dark look and we started walking.
 It wasn t my choice to leech off the family firm. But an MBA from
Chicago doesn t cut it if you re a faggot, at least not according to my
esteemed pater. He threw me out.
 Well, maybe things will change when&  I foundered. It seemed
déclassé to imply that Eric might be able to take over the company
when his father died, if that s what he wanted.
Morosely, he said,  I m sure the old man s already thought about
that.
 What do you mean?
 I m being realistic. I doubt he sees me as the next chairman of
Standish Industrial.
I abandoned good taste.  Do you know what s in his will?
 I have a fair idea.
 Well, he s crazy if he cuts you out of the business. I thought Eric
would look fabulous in a three-piece suit, ordering executives around.
 He never forgave me for not playing football in high school,
Eric mused sadly as we strolled along a pale hallway that dripped with
art and costly furniture.  And I made it worse by singing in the choir
instead of trying out for track.
He subsided into gloomy silence. We shared a similar history when
it came to sports. We d both missed getting on every team, and we d both
ended up fucking the jocks who made captain. I thought about Helga
Caldwell, my second lover and the best soccer player at my school.
" 62 "
CHANCE
These days my one-time tutor in advanced oral sex technique was
married to a Christian conservative and organized pro-fetus fundraisers.
But I happened to know she also snuck out to lesbian venues to engage
in anonymous sex every time hubby was out of town.
She d hit on me once during this self-abasing quest for gratification,
and poured out her story when she sobered up enough to recognize who
I was. I told her she didn t have to live a lie, but she had three kids
and her husband had political ambitions. Hypocrisy was a necessary
expedience.
I touched Eric s hand.  Don t worry. He ll take one look at us and
realize he s made a big mistake. I m sure he ll totally buy it.
Eric sighed.  I hope so. It would be great, for once in my life, not
to disappoint him.
v
I tried to persuade myself that the worst was over after our first
dinner with Eric s mother. But nothing could have prepared me for
breakfast the next morning. Eric and I went downstairs, smoochily
holding hands for the benefit of all and sundry. We paused a few yards
from the breakfast room, collecting our wits.
 Remember, he said.  Tender glances. He pushed open the door
and we were onstage.
Mrs. Standish was sitting in an armchair before a wall of French
doors that opened onto a vast terra-cotta patio. She looked up from
her New York Times and greeted us without a glimmer of suspicion. It
took me several seconds to realize she was not alone, and then I found
myself staring at the most drop-dead-gorgeous woman I had ever seen.
Her hair was dark and straight like Eric s. It fell just below chin level
and was cut blunt like an old-fashioned schoolgirl s. I decided she was
a cross between Lolita and Circe. My mom had a pre-Raphaelite print
of that legendary temptress on the wall of her guest room. It could have
been a portrait of the woman I was now ogling.
 Layla! Eric discarded my hand like it was a baby diaper.  When
did you get here?
 About half an hour ago. She rose from her chair, arms
outstretched.  It s great to see you, and  Her languid gaze shifted to
me, making my skin hot.
" 63 "
Grace Lennox
 Chantelle, Eric supplied and hastily reached for my hand once
more, drawing me to his side. For the first time since we d arrived I
caught a flash of shame in his expression.  Darling, this is my cousin
Layla Wilde. We virtually grew up together. She s the songwriter.
Remember?
Not even slightly.  Of course.
I was vaguely aware of him chattering about her success, of Mrs.
Standish looking on, reserved but indulgent. A brilliant ocean seemed
to flood the room, drowning out all sounds but for the thud of my heart
in my ears. As though tangled in seaweed, my legs refused to move.
I held my breath, willing myself to surface. It was she, the mermaid
whose siren song had drifted on trade winds until the merest whisper [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]