I will be completing Gaiety
over at sk_nanowrimo
and then reposting the final product here.
Feel free to come and join me at the NaNo comm, I have seven chapters completed so far and THEY RULE!
Sometimes I get stories that have little to do with the story at hand, but much to do with the characters. These are little diversions until the main plot comes more together.
"Maybe I should write about the women I've slept with. That would be funny, right?" Chantal and I were at my apartment some lazy Saturday afternoon. I had an assignment to complete, but due to all the work I was putting into my novel, I had absolutely nothing of recent relevance to write about. Chantal offered to come over and inspire me, but instead ended up in a lounge chair flipping through the latest style issue of Esquire
. It was 450 pages of nothing but men's fashion, and our favorite place to be at times.
"No, don't do that." She said as she leafed through the ads. In this issue they were more important than the actual articles. Through her wrinkled brow I could see her dressing her future boyfriend or husband, or possibly me.
"Why not?" I looked up from my laptop and watched her ignore me from across the room. Some Gaultier design had caught her eye and she was staring off into space imagining what setting the outfit would work in,
"Because it would make me jealous. Would you ever go to a Beautillion?" I ignored the question because she wouldn't hear the answer anyhow, and besides, I had my own questions I to ask,
"Why would it make you jealous? You don't want to have sex with me do you?" Chantal was in love with me, that was obvious, but it was a very specific kind of love. She never wanted to marry me, or fuck me that I knew of, but I understood that if given the option she would choose to take up permanent residence in my eyes.
"Heath, I want to have sex. In general, but I love you, and if sex were an option I guess you wouldn't be completely out of the question, but that doesn't matter because you're a homosexual." She smiled slyly and glanced at me over the top of the magazine. Cillian Murphy was on the cover.
"Right?"( Sex is HelloCollapse )
"Fuck you, get the fuck out of here."
"I don't want to leave mad."
"I'm mad because of you."
"You're in control of your emotions Noah, you decide whether or not you're angry at me."
"Fuck you and your pretentious bullshit Heath! I'm mad because you made the decision to piss me off and that's your fucking thing not mine!"
"Noah you are not weak-"
"I'm weak when I'm with you. I made myself this way because I thought I could trust you. And that's why you must leave, and why I must be mad when you do. Now get the fuck out of here."( Romance Arc: Part OneCollapse )
On my current cell phone plan I am allotted a mere 500 minutes each month to converse with those nearest and dearest to my contacts list. And really that's all I need. If I'm at home I use my corded phone, email, or simply walk upstairs to visit whoever I feel like engaging in some casual banter. Besides, with the free service to service minutes and nights and weekends, sometimes I barely make a dent in my admarked amount of minutes.
There are some months though, where I use those daytime minutes in the expanse of a single day. It just happens to be one of those wondrous days where not only am I readily available, but the world
is readily available and willing to divulge its theories to me. We talk for hours on end sometimes about very important things, and sometimes about no things at all. ( Daytrippin'Collapse )
You know one of those days where you just need
? I was having the mother of one of those days. Noah was out of town, my friend Claire was sick and wouldn't allow anyone to see her, and I was at home all alone and mopey. Normally I wouldn't mind this freedom, but I had absolutely nothing going on. The book was to the publisher, articles submitted, the DVR cleared off. Besides, I didn't need to write, or think, or anything; what exactly it was I needed I wasn't sure, but what I wanted? Now that
I had a handle on.
I wanted to be held; touched, but not molested. Nothing gross, just something nice. I wanted to feel fucking pretty, and I wanted to feel like I was the only person in the whole world that mattered.
So naturally I went to visit D'Angelo.( Amusement for Our HumilityCollapse )
After the KJ/Alan incident I became so enthralled by their story that I decided to play sly detective and find out as much as I could about the situation. After harrassing Chantal and D'Angelo to death, I discovered that KJ and I had a mutual friend in Scott Walford. Scott and I went to college together and it was true fate that he happened to be connected to this pair of star crossed lovers. It was one of those weird circumstances where I'd heard a story and just didn't put two and two together. When I realized the connection, I called Scott up immediately and we made plans to meet for lunch the next day. I saw him and he smiled wildly. Yes, wildly.( CagedCollapse )
To be a truly acute observer, one must possess the ability to blend into the scenery. You must be discreet if you wish to receive the whole story without any factors such as shame and pride clouding it, everyone is much more candid when they think no one is watching. There have been several times that I've written a short only to have its subjects corner me later with protests of, "Who told you this?!" I simply shrug, smile at them sweetly and say, "It was you! I got it from watching you!"
The capacity of being able to disappear, or make one's self invisible has advantages and disavantages both. On one hand you find out everything you'd ever need to know; on the other hand, you sometimes find out too much.
I was hanging out over Karnell's house. He was either D'Angelo's older brother, or cousin; the story behind their relationship isn't exactly a secret as much as it is a mystery, even to them. Technically they were blood related, they just weren't sure how. Noah had a gig in New Orleans where Karnell lived with his wife and their son, so we decided to travel for a few days to say hello. Karnell and I met at D'Angelo and Chantal's wedding and became fast friends over our love of obscure jazz and really obscure authors. We would sit up all night listening to old, unpublished Fats Waller records, and trying to stump each other with passages from forgotten tomes. It was very The Talented Mr. Ripley
except without the hero worship and murder. I was Freddie Miles in this adventure, and Karnell (or KJ as he was called) was the epitome of Dickie, except... better. ( Carnal LinesCollapse )
"Heath please don't even get started with that today! You are a writer and that makes you the ultimate gossip! You must know every single detail to every single happening all in the name of 'telling the literary truth'." She finger quoted me and included two obvious eyebrow raises before going back to the cabinet she was rummaging through. She was a woman of showmanship, but I had my defense ready,
"However, there's a difference between obtaining information for literary purposes, and just trading sedentary gossip." She turned her head and looked at me smirking,
"It's all telling a story babe, one way or the other." ( Tell Me No More SecretsCollapse )
"Uncle Heath, why am I your favorite?" I smiled as Jean Luc made himself comfortable in the chair across from me. He was
my favorite, had been since the day he was born. Even when he was gone for that little while, he was always in my heart. He rested his head in the palm of his hand and looked at me waiting with those beautifully muddy eyes.
"You've always been my favorite." I said, egging him on. I knew he wanted a story, but I was known for my stories. You had to earn them, they just don't come that easily.
"But why Uncle Heath? Why did you pick me?" I cocked an eyebrow accusingly at him,
"Who told you that I chose you?" He smiled and slyly flipped me off while smoothing his eyebrows,
"Daddy says that you chose me. Now tell me the story!" ( UnpredictableCollapse )
It was said of Alfred Hitchcock -by himself actually- that had he not found and married Alma he would be a homosexual. He chose his leading men based on either candor, relentless talent, or absurd beauty. It's interesting to think about that. To think of a man -so in love with men, but also so in love with his wife- justifying the two while being completely content. He was said to have been completely devoted to her and even in the presence of beautiful actresses (he admired strong, bold blondes) his loyalty to Alma was never questioned.
Not that Alma was a troll, or ghastly woman, but in the eyes of Mr. Hitchcock, the beauty of his wife was comparable to the beauty of say, Farley Granger; and he still preferred his wife. Ponder that
for a while. ( What is This All About?Collapse )
There’s a certain bond in secrecy, one that I’ve talked about before, but have only truly experienced prior to my induction into this new family. It was their secrets that kept them together. Knowing your favorite band or your favorite tv show tells me nothing that I couldn’t assume, but knowing that at one time you dreamt of having gay sex with your older brother, or found your cousin to be more than moderately attractive, and then having the decency to never hold it against you? That’s what the best friendships are made of. The best adversaries are cut from the same cloth which is why when such secrets are involved, the line walked between loveliness and evil becomes thinner and thinner.
Their secrets gave them an unbreakable bond, but only because they understood the power they had to completely ruin the lives of the others and knew better than to ever take that risk. Even when there was pain, crying, and hurting, they would never reveal these precious secrets for they acted as a stopper to keep them from flailing into a never-ending pit of guilt and despair. Maudlin and slightly emo? Yes, definitely, and that’s why it works.
The emotional expanse of these secrets is what fueled my original trepidation about joining this group. Not that inclusion in this clan was a choice really, I was already good friends with two of its members (Chantal and Jerrod) and was now dating a key player (Noah). But to be fully integrated meant not only did I have to divulge some of my secrets, I also had to accept some of theirs. It’s a very daunting game to play, but one in which I desperately wanted to succeed. I’d received some intel before hand, but knew I had to pay attention to really get the information that would lead to my promotion.
They knew their power and instantly rewarded me when I made it clear I was in it to win. Right when I decided to start paying attention and take notes is when the very first incident occurred.
And I fucking missed it.( Fellatio and Massages w/ a Side of Tossed SaladCollapse )
“So then he gets into this whole argument with me about how white people should be allowed to say it too and I really didn’t have the time or energy to argue with him so I…“ Chantal trailed off as she passed out plates and napkins. Well, she didn't exactly pass them out as much as she waved them around. She was on one of her legendary rants, lamenting the general state of the world and those in it. It was good times as usual,( GaietyCollapse )