In Play
I snap my phone shut and smile to myself when a voice in my ear breathes,
“Justin, Justin Taylor, you are one seriously fucked up fag. I like that in a man.”
“Charlie!” I smile, glad to see a familiar face. Even if it’s familiar for the first time since I met her a few hours ago. Hey, I’m grasping at straws here, people.
“”Boring, isn’t it?” she whispers conspiratorially.
“Terminally,” I sigh. I don’t know what it is but something about her makes me want to trust her. Not a first impression I’ve been familiar with for like, forever. She smiles and nods a greeting at a sharp featured older woman a few feet away.
“See? The devil really does wear Prada!” Charlie giggles and I find myself joining her.
“That’s -“
“Yup. In all her icy badness. Now... .” She takes my arm and leads me out to the sculpture court with an en route stop for cocktail reloads. “Mmm,” she smiles as she sips at the drink du nuit, Extacy, served in a ridiculously oversized bowl glass garnished with a bird of fucking paradise bloom. Koi ponds are smaller than these things. Charlie greets another do gooder/patron and I take a moment to catalog her appearance. Fortyish, not slim, not stout, not anything really, Vivienne Tam black sheath, Blahnik stilettos, blue black Asian hair. “Fuckers,” she mutters under her breath once we’re alone again.
“Um, excuse me?”
“Fuckers. They’re not here for the cause, they’re here to be seen.” A quick trip to the garden bar and the conversation resumes.
“So why are you here?” I can’t help but ask. The WASP in me is taken aback but I’m going to blame it on the entire bottle of lemon vodka that apparently fills every glass of these things.
“Entertainment value,” she winks. “Oh, and the tax advantages.” Charlie then regales me with the sordid back stories of the toned, tanned, impeccably coiffed and coutured men and women swirling around us in their dance of dominance and damage. This is good shit, I think to myself as she verbally draws a tree of the clusterfuck that seems to be New York society. I snicker and snort my drink out my nose once or twice but manage to present myself as a normal human being to each and every A-lister to whom Charlie graciously introduces me.
We settle ourselves on a semi inconspicuous bench in a corner and start chattering about art. She tells me I should definitely check out the “Trace’” exhibit and promises to get me in to the select events. Shit! “I so want to see that! But why would you do that for me, someone you just met?” Suspicion kicks in and I slide a bit further away.
”Because, Justin, Justin Taylor, you’re all about the invisible: things that you wish were here, things that used to be here, things that were never here.” She catches my look which I can only guess at and laughs. “Duh. Asian. Inscrutable. You need me to buy you a clue? Oh, and speaking of what isn’t inscrutable….” She nods across the space and there he is, heading straight for us.
“Justin!”
Fuck. It was inevitable but I was having such a good time. “Eric.” He glares at my new friend.
“Charlize.” His tone is curt and dismissive. “I see you two have met.”
Charlie just rolls her eyes and snorts avery amused, “Eric. Shouldn’t you be off at a Rasputin recovery meeting somewhere?” Ooh, burn!
“Clever. Or at least an attempt. Excuse us, would you?” Eric glowers.
“No.” She meets his politely pissed off expression with an amused one of her own. “Oh, alright,” she sighs. “I need another drink anyway. Another for you, Justin?” I nod and she stands. “Then we can continue our chat. You know, about life, love, cosmic justice. Oh, and you must tell me all about how you met Teri Jenkins!” She’s standing behind Eric by now and mouths “hates him” before she heads back to the bar. Not sure who hates whom but my guess is Eric hates Teri since Eric looks like he just swallowed a slug.
“Justin.” Eric shifts gears and settles himself beside me, nodding at various people as they pass by. “You really ought not wander off at these events. We’re here so that you may become a known social presence to possible patrons of your work.” It occurs to me that I don’t want to be a “social “presence” and I open my mouth to tell him so but Eric continues. “Charlize is very low level.” Something in his tone sounds more than slightly venomous. I don’t like that. “You need to be judicious in your choice of acquaintances.”
“She’s not an acquaintance,” I defend. “She’s a friend.” Well, not really but I think she could be. Actually I’m pretty sure of it.
“Even more reason to choose wisely. You’re defined by those with whom you are seen.” He smiles. “You’re still new to the city and its scenes.” That had so better not be what it sounds like. He places a hand on the small of my back and I guess this is where the game engages for real. I shift away, but he keeps smiling. “Just think of yourself as a kitten and me as your mother cat, caring for you.” Oh, Eric, bad, really fucking bad choice of words there. Before I can say anything, Charlie returns. Through my angry haze I see another woman with her: tall, thin, fashionable, as nondescript as the rest of these people with their money and the faux charm and real power it has bought them.
“Justin, I have someone who is simply dying to meet you. See, Marisol? I told you I knew where to find him!” Charlie is looking at Eric and I swear those fucking bird of paradise blooms have left invisible feathers sticking out of her mouth.
“Justin Taylor! Such a pleasure to meet you!” I have no idea who or what this woman is but she’s dripping Bulgari all over her seriously overtanned skin. Eric and I stand to greet her.
“Marisol! Looking lovely as usual!” Insert air kiss here. Ack.
“Eric. A pleasure, as always.” She turns her attention to me. “Yes, you’re just as he said you would be.”
“Who?” I’m lost here.
She laughs. “Terence, of course. His Phillip is handling a project for my preservation trust.” His Phillip - bwahahaha. They’d both cringe. She should only meet his Crazy Bob! “Yes, he 'suggested' you not be made aware of this, but you know Teri,” she smiles at us. “Such a mother hen, always meddling.”
“What did he tell you not to tell me?” I need another fucking drink and snatch my bird of paradise garnished bottles of lemon vodka koi pond sized cocktail bowl from a barely restrained Charlie and make a conscious effort not to swallow the fucking thing whole.
“That you were fairly new to the city and might be appreciative of some guidance. We’re having a bit of an impromptu thing on Wednesday. I’ll be expecting you, young man.” She takes a calling card from her Lieber baguette and hands it to me. “Eric, a word if you wouldn’t mind. The installation for…” I lose the conversation as he follows her off.
“Someone might want to tell her that a planned impromptu is an oxymoron.”
Charlie snickers into her own koi pond. “So.” She waits, obviously expecting an answer.
“So, what?”
“You and Teri Jenkins? What’s the deal?”
“Deal?” I feel a shiver. Does Charlie know? She didn’t seem to but then I could be completely wrong. That fucking “kitten” remark of Eric’s has thrown me. Teri said they weren’t Dunraven and I’m hanging on to that.
“Yeah, asshat. What’s the deal?” Charlie nods pleasantly at a passing geezer (okay, exceedingly well dressed geezer) with a barely postpubescent girl draped over his arm. Anna Nicole has apparently made an impact. “Jenkins is obviously paying attention.”
“Attention?” Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s the koi ponds, maybe it’s that I’m worried about Brian in the shark tank but I’m not really following this.
“Justin.” Charlie sighs. “You’re in play. Terence Jenkins put you out there.” She chucks a finger under my chin. “Eric Vartanian is no longer your only option.” She laughs at my expression. “I want real food. How do you feel about kimchi?”