Joanna and David sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table, staring blankly at each other. David was wearing a yellow-and-green tie-dyed T-shirt and faded jeans, and Joanna had on a blue chenille bathrobe.
“We must look like two people with bad hangovers,” Joanna muttered.
“I wonder why. What time is it?”
“Almost noon.” Her head was propped against her hand. If she didn’t move, the banging wasn’t quite as brutal. “Wish I had a cigarette.”
“I thought you quit smoking during your health-food period.”
“I did.”
He leaned sideways and pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes out of his back pocket. He shook two out, then dug in his front pocket for matches. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
They both lit up.
Blowing smoke out of the side of her mouth, Joanna said, “You didn’t drink as much as I did last night.”
“No.”
“So why do you look so awful?”
“I slept on my face wrong.”
She glanced at the refrigerator. “Want some orange juice?”
“Not if I have to get up and get it.” He flicked his eyes to her, then tapped ash in a saucer.
“I thought I heard you roaming around out here in the middle of the night. And then again this morning.”
“Needed a glass of water.”
“No, it sounded like you went out the door.”
He shrugged. “What are your plans for the day?”
She hated to admit it, but with Gordon lurking around again, she felt trapped just like she had all those years ago. She wasn’t sure what she’d do once rehearsals began. “Relax, I suppose. Sleep. Wait to hear from that PI I hired.” She took a quick puff off the cigarette, then leaned forward and looked David straight in the eyes. “I probably should have a heart-to-heart with my baby brother. Try to find out what’s going on with him. If Diego cheated on you, babe, I’ll help you kill him.”
“Don’t get so worked up. It’s nothing several dozen Valium and a fifth of whiskey can’t solve.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
He blew smoke circles into the air. “Nah. But it’s a good line, don’t you think? Russell Crowe could deliver it with a straight face, God knows how.”
Sometimes Joanna didn’t know how to read her brother. He had a habit of using humor to push away all the stuff that bothered him. As a teenager, he wore his heart on his sleeve and got it pretty badly mangled, so as an adult he sometimes adopted this frustratingly perfunctory view of life. Poses drove Joanna crazy. “I suppose you could help me run my lines.”
“Hell, if I know you, you had them all memorized three weeks ago.”
She dropped her head back on her hand. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you know me? Do either of us really know each other?”
“Uh-oh. I think we’re moving into dangerous territory for this early in the day.”
“Be serious.”
“Why?” He pushed back from the table. “I’ve got stuff I need to do. But first, I have to make myself look pretty.”
“Like what stuff?”
“Weeeell, I don’t suppose Jane told you what happened at her house.”
“No.” Before David could explain, there was a knock on the door.
Joanna nearly jumped out of her chair.
“Take it easy, Sis. I’m big and strong. I’ll protect you.”
“This is a security building!”
He kissed her forehead on his way out of the room. “Then it has to be someone who lives in the building. Relax.”
Joanna followed him into the living room, watching as he turned around and moved backward toward the door.
“Hey, remember what Mom used to say to us at night when we were little? She didn’t allow monsters in our house. I actually believed her, always felt safe. Well, you can believe me now, Sis. I won’t allow any monsters in this loft. Okay?” He squinted through the peephole.
“Who is it?”
“Yikes!” He ducked down and cringed. “A monster!”
“You’re nuts, you know that?”
He opened the door.
Joanna stood about ten feet behind him, feeling her stomach knot into a ball.
“Hi,” said David. “Can I help you?”
The elderly woman standing out in the hall held a plate with a small loaf of bread in the center. “I’m your neighbor. Faye O’Halleron? I live across the hall.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. O’Halleron.”
“Call me Faye.”
“Faye. I’m David Carlson.”
She peered over her bifocals. “Is Ms. Kasimir here?”
“That would be my eminent sister.” He turned to Joanna, asking with a lift of his eyebrows if he should let her in.
Joanna nodded.
“She sure is, in all her dazzling morning glory.” He swept his hand toward her.
“Oh my,” said Faye. Her hands began to shake. “Is it really you?”
“She’s real,” said David, stifling a grin. “I agree, she’s a little scary in the morning, but she’s not dangerous.”
Joanna shot him a nasty look.
“I, ah, baked some pumpkin bread for you, Ms. Kasimir. Oh, and for your brother, too.” She smiled at him. “It’s right out of the oven. Still warm.”
“That’s so kind of you,” said Joanna. “David, will you take the bread in the kitchen?”
He bowed. “Yes, your grace.”
“Bag it,” she snarled.
“I hope you like it,” said Faye. “It’s best with butter, if you can stand the extra calories, which you can. You’re much thinner in person.”
“Would you like to sit down in the living room for a few minutes?”
“Sure! Thanks.”
“David, bring Faye a cup of coffee.”
“Of course, your grace.”
“My brother’s in an odd mood this morning.”
“Yeah,” said Faye. “I can see that.” She sat down on the edge of the velvet couch. “I’m one of your biggest fans.”
“That’s always nice to hear,” said Joanna, sinking down on a spindle rocking chair next to a chain-saw-carved bear sculpture.
“I’ve followed your career from the very beginning. When one of your movies is on TV, I always watch it.”
People didn’t realize how difficult it was to have a conversation with someone who just wanted to tell you how great you were. What could you say in response? Yes, I know I’m fabulous. I’m sure you’re fabulous too. “That’s … nice. Have you lived here long?”
“Not long, no. I’m retired. Have been for a couple of years.”
“What did you do for a living?”
“I had my own beauty salon. Did hair. Nails. Facials. I employed four women and one man. When I decided to close up shop for good, two of the women offered to buy it, so I took them up on it.” She accepted the cup of coffee David handed her. “If you don’t mind my saying so, your hair could use some conditioning.”
“Do you think so?”
She raised a hand. “May I?”
“Sure.”
She rose from the couch and stepped over to the rocking chair, rubbing Joanna’s hair between her fingers. “Good texture but dry. And you have a lot of split ends. Is it dyed?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s been looking after it?”
“I live in Idaho now. When I need something done, I go to a man in Sandpoint, that’s the nearest town.”
“Well, I hope you don’t pay him much. He’s not very good.” This time Joanna’s cell phone interrupted them. “I better get that,” she said, afraid that if she asked her brother to do it, she’d get another smart reply. Flipping it open, she said hello.
“Babycakes, it’s me! I’m here!”
“My God. Freddy?”
“Just flew in last night. I’m staying at the Hyatt Regency. Did you read the screenplay yet?”
“What screenplay?”
“Didn’t that woman I talked to last night tell you?”
“What woman? Tell me what?”
“Listen, babe, I mailed you a screenplay a few days ago. It’s the best thing I’ve seen in years and it has an incredible part for you. No character piece, either. I’m talking the female lead! The shoot is in Sâo Paulo, Brazil. Everybody’s on board except you. I’m directing, of course. We got Tim Robbins. Chris Cooper. God, I love that guy. He could play a toilet and he’d be great. And get this. Here’s your leading man.”
“Who?”
“Kevin fucking Spacey!”
“You’ve got these people signed?”
“Signed, sealed, and delivered—if, and this is the if that concerns you—if I can get you for the female lead. The backers are ready with their checkbooks. Ron Sherry is producing.”
“Comedy or drama?”
“A little of both. Think Titanic meets American Beauty.”
“Is it a period piece?”
“Nineteen twenties.”
Joanna liked the twenties. Women weren’t just furniture in men’s lives in the twenties.
“It’s quirky, funny, tragic. It’s got everything—and the writing is phenomenal.”
“This is too fast, Fred. I mean … I can’t commit right away. You know me. I need some time to think.”
“All right. Think all you like, as long as I get your signature on the contract by the middle of next week. Here’s the deal. You gotta pull out of that play. Get your lawyer to look at the contract. Tell the theater … hell, tell them whatever you want. You’re sick. Your back hurts. Your hemorrhoids are acting up.”
“Freddy, don’t be gross.”
“I’m just giving you some ideas. We start shooting late November, give or take. Now, I sent the screenplay to the place you’re staying. I got the address from Marybeth.”
Marybeth Flagg was her agent in L.A.
“Read it. If you read it and you don’t like it, I swear I’ll jump out of my hotel room window.”
“Okay, okay.” She laughed at his enthusiasm. Freddy always did that to her. Made her laugh. He was a complete creature of the movie industry, and yet she found him refreshing.
“When can I see you?”
“Give me a day to look at the script.”
“Call me, Babycakes. Room seven twelve, Hyatt Regency. I’m ready to fly on this one. I love you.”
“You do?”
“Hell, babe, I never stopped. Later.”
Joanna hung up the receiver, feeling utterly speechless.
“I take it that was your ex,” said David, sipping from a glass of orange juice. “He always has the same effect on you.”
“What effect?”
“You look like a deer in the headlights.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s shooting a film and wants me to be in it.”
“How terrible!” said Faye, setting down her coffee. “You’re talking about your first husband, right? Fred Kasimir? You can’t seriously think of working with him. He hurt you terribly.”
Joanna and David exchanged glances.
“It’s okay, really,” said Joanna. “Our breakup wasn’t all his fault.” She was a bit taken aback by the intensity of Faye’s response.
“Oh, but you gotta be careful. I’ve followed him in the news. He’s a womanizer. He’ll only hurt you again if you get mixed up with him.”
“This would be a business deal,” said Joanna. It occurred to her now that if she left the country, it was unlikely that Gordon would follow her all the way to Brazil.
“But … you’re not going to do it, are you?” asked Faye.
“I’ll read the script. I owe him that much.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so,” said Faye, looking like a woman who was used to giving her opinion and having it listened to, “you don’t owe him a thing.”
“No, but if the script’s good—”
“Stay away from him,” said Faye, her voice firm. “He’s nothing but poison.”
“I always kinda liked him,” said David, standing next to the bear sculpture, his arm propped on the head.
“Davey?” said Joanna, chewing on her lower lip, her mind spinning in a million different directions.
“Hum?”
“If I ask you to run downstairs and get my mail for me, will you do it without acting like I’m the queen of England?”
“I’d be happy to.” As walked over to the door, he added under his breath, “Boss.”
Bel Air, California
Spring 1989
After the disastrous birthday party at the bungalow, Gordon took Joanna to a garden store, where they looked at bedding plants for several hours. Joanna tried hard to get her mind off David’s behavior, but nothing she did seemed to work. She couldn’t believe how selfish he’d been to ruin her perfect day. He knew how much her birthday meant to her. Maybe she was still a greedy child at heart, wanting everything to go her way, but for one freakin’ day of the year, was that so much to ask?
Joanna had been a serious little girl, full of quirks and given to fits of temper. As a teenager, she never felt like part of the crowd, which only cut her off further. She saw her friends as shallow, interested only in the next date, the next keg party. She was much better than that. Joanna had set her sights on making something of herself. She wanted to achieve grand things. But after she’d won the golden prize, she came to the conclusion that shallowness was highly underrated. Shallowness was what allowed her to live in the world and not go stark raving mad. As far as Joanna was concerned, that was true for everyone—whether they admitted it or not. It was probably shallowness that allowed Joanna to ignore David and Diego for the rest of the day. They were selfish bastards and she was mad at them. End of story.
After a quiet, romantic dinner at a restaurant overlooking the Portofino Marina in Redondo Beach, Joanna and Gordon returned to her home in Bel
Air. They spent the rest of the evening making love. By the time she fell asleep in Gordon’s arms, she’d forgiven David. Eventually, she always did.
The following day dawned in mist. Joanna walked out on the veranda overlooking the pool and the bungalow, where the world was washed in grays, everything indistinct, muted, softened. She regretted the way she’d handled herself yesterday and was eager to get down to the bungalow to set things right.
Gordon was lying in bed, watching TV when Joanna opened up her bureau drawer and removed a pair of clean sweatpants and a T-shirt.
“I’m famished,” he said, stretching his arms high above his head. “When you get a chance, I’d like some scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. Jam or jelly if you have it.”
It was the first time he’d ever assumed that she would cook for him. They’d been together only a week, during which he’d always prepared the meals, if they ate in. He wasn’t ordering her to do it, but he seemed to expect it, and that sense of entitlement annoyed her. She gave him an appraising look.
“What?”
“You really really don’t want me to cook for you.”
“Why?”
“First, because I’m lousy at it. Second, because I’m not your servant.”
He surfed the channels, a disgruntled look on his face. “Come back to bed, then.”
“No.”
“Why not? Where are you going?”
“To talk to David. Not that it’s any of your business.” Her eyes were drawn to the crumpled sheet draped across his lower abdomen. His body was so tanned, so beautiful, so relaxed and at ease. It was like having Michelangelo’s statue of David in her bed. Sitting down next to him, she trailed her fingers across his chest. “I’m sorry. Guess I’m not in a very good mood.”
He glanced at her, then looked back at the TV. “What the hell bit your ass?”
“I treated David badly yesterday. It’s bothering me.”
“I’d say it was the other way around.”
She shrugged, rising from the bed.
“We should hire a housekeeper, one who cooks.”
And there it was: the first “we.” She’d been waiting for it, but now that it was here, it didn’t sit very well with her. “Let’s talk about it later.” She started for the door.
“I ordered a wood chipper, a backhoe, and a tractor grader. They should be delivered this afternoon. You need to sign for them.”
“I what? Doesn’t your landscape company deal with that?”
“It’s not coming from the landscape company. I quit yesterday.”
She stopped and turned around. Walking back to the bed, she said, “You did?”
“Jo,” he said with exaggerated patience, “if I’m going to turn that hill of yours into a terraced garden, it’s going to require a lot of time. I assumed you wanted it done before next year, so I didn’t have a choice. I want to give this to you, babe. My gift.” He took hold of her hand.
“How do you intend to support yourself if you don’t have a job?”
Now he looked wounded. “I thought I’d move in here. Isn’t that what you want? I mean, we’re together now, Jo. I’m committed to you in every way. I want to make your life richer, more beautiful. I’m devoted to that.”
“And in the meantime, I’m devoted to supporting both of us.”
He dropped her hand. “What the hell’s going on? I thought this was what you wanted. Why is everything about money? You’re just like every other Hollywood whore. Money’s your God.”
“That’s not true.”
“You sure could have fooled me. I thought you were better than that. I thought you wanted something more.”
“I do.”
“You’re pitiful, you know that? I offer you my love, my whole life, and you—with all your money—all you’re concerned about is who’s going to pay the light bill? Buy the Kleenex?”
She felt like a total shit. “Of course not. I didn’t mean—”
“I’ll never be like that, Jo, and I refuse to be sucked down to your level.”
“Gordon, stop. Please.” She sat down, moved closer to him. She believed him when he said he’d never hurt her. She believed he wanted what was best for her. She believed even in the face of her growing doubt. She had to trust someone, sometime, didn’t she? If she couldn’t, her life would be reduced to an emotional wasteland. When she put her hand on his chest, she
could feel his heart beating wildly. “I’m sorry. Really. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He pulled her to him, kissed her fiercely. He’d never been rough with her before, but he was now, ripping the T-shirt off, breaking the clasp on the back of her bra. She felt helpless in his arms, breathless by the depth of his passion, by the sheer weight and power of his body. She wanted him. She bit his neck and tasted the salt and the sweat. “I love you,” she whispered, sensing that she had to prove it. And she wanted to prove it more than she’d ever wanted anything before in her life.
With one thing or another preventing Joanna from leaving the house, she didn’t make it down to the bungalow until two in the afternoon. Before she even knocked on the door, she noticed that David and Diego’s rental car was gone. She had no idea what their plans were for the day, but if they didn’t connect in any other way, David usually left a note for her on the kitchen table.
Joanna dreaded talking to them about what had prompted their obnoxious behavior at the birthday party yesterday. She remembered most of it through the haze of too many glasses of champagne. In the cold light of day, she figured it was probably partially her fault. After the party, it became pretty clear that Gordon didn’t think much of either her brother or Diego. That pained her, and yet she couldn’t blame him. His only real opportunity to get to know them had been at the party. If Joanna’s experience with David and Diego had been limited to that, she wouldn’t have a very good impression of them either.
Unlocking the front door, Joanna walked into a perfectly cleaned bungalow. She expected to see some leftover balloons or crepe-paper streamers, a few dirty dishes or filled ashtrays, but the interior was spotless, just the way it had been before they arrived. Stepping into the bedroom, she was surprised to find all the suitcases gone. She opened the closet doors and found them empty.
Surely they wouldn’t have left without talking to her, would they? The question echoed through the silent rooms as Joanna reached the kitchen. There was no note on the kitchen table. In fact, the refrigerator had been cleaned out, the garbage emptied, the dishes all washed and put away. She stood amid the smell of pine cleaner and lemon wax, totally stumped. Surely her brother couldn’t have been that mad at her. If he was, she didn’t have a clue why.
Joanna sat down at the kitchen table to think. It made a certain sense that, if her brother and Diego really were having personal problems, they’d leave early, and without telling her. David tended to get very tight-lipped about personal issues, while encouraging her to tell all about hers. She forgave him that little double standard. But if he and Diego weren’t having relationship problems—she’d seen no real evidence of that yesterday—then why did they go?
It struck her that perhaps David and Diego didn’t like Gordon. Or maybe they felt they were third wheels now that Joanna had a new boyfriend. If they were just being kind, giving Joanna and Gordon some time alone, it wasn’t necessary. If they’d only asked her, that’s what she would have told them.
Joanna looked up as Gordon came through the back door.
“Hey, Jo, what are you doing down here?”
“Looking for my brother.”
“They left right after lunch.”
“You saw them? Did you talk to them?”
He shrugged, sat down at the table across from her. “I was taking a swim. I called good-bye, but they ignored me. It’s no skin off my nose if they don’t like me.”
“Why wouldn’t they like you? That’s crazy, Gordon.”
Another shrug. “Who knows what’s up with them. Just forget about it.”
Joanna had no intention of forgetting about it. As soon as she figured they were back home in Atlanta, she intended to call, read them the riot act. They never should have left like that. If she’d done something to upset them, they should have stayed and talked it out.
“I’m driving over to Stottlemeyers to get a sandwich. You want one?”
“Sure.”
“Beef? Turkey?”
“Whatever you get is fine with me.”
“You’re easy to shop for.” He grinned. “Or maybe you’re just plain easy.”
“Stop it.” She knew he was teasing her about this morning. They’d stayed in bed until after eleven. She had a meeting in Century City this afternoon but had canceled it. Gordon had some things to buy for the slope renovation, so he wasn’t going to be around, and someone had to be at the house to sign for all the heavy equipment he’d ordered.
“Let’s drive up to Sausalito tomorrow,” said Gordon. “I know that area really well. It’d give me a real kick to show my new lady around one of my old stomping grounds.”
“I’ve got a meeting with my agent tomorrow.”
“Cancel it.”
“It’s not that simple, Gordon. I canceled a meeting today so I could wait around here and sign that form. I’m working, honey. I have commitments.”
“Sure. I get it.” As he stood, he cracked his knuckles, then his neck.
Joanna had begun to notice that he did this almost ritualized cracking when he felt uncomfortable or threatened. He also had a tendency to yawn when he felt stressed. He probably was unaware of the signals he sent, but Joanna, like most women, was good at reading her man. “Don’t be angry. Maybe we can do it next week.”
“Sure. Next week. Except, by then, I’ll be into the reconstruction of your hill. I can’t just walk away and leave it.”
“No, of course not. Maybe we can do it this weekend.”
“Whatever.” He stepped over to the sink, took down a glass, and filled it with water. “I know what you’re doing, you know.”
“And that would be?”
“You’re punishing me because I quit my job. You’re making a big deal out of the fact that you’re working and I’m not.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Jo, do you realize how quickly I could get another job in landscaping? They’re a dime a dozen. What I have in mind for this place will double its value. I’m not going to be sitting around on my thumbs, doing nothing.”
“I know that. I’m not punishing you. That never even entered my mind.”
He turned to face her. “You know, on second thought, maybe I won’t come back here with sandwiches. It would save me a bunch of time if I just ate at the restaurant, then took off for the valley.”
She could tell he was angry. “Whatever you want. What time will you be back?”
“Late,” he said. “Don’t wait up.”
“Gordon?”
He drank his water, set the glass in the sink, then left through the back door without another word.
The equipment arrived just before three. Joanna signed all the necessary paperwork, then hopped in her car and drove into Beverly Hills. She wanted the works—facial, nails, full-body massage, a new haircut, anything and everything that would make her feel beautiful and desirable. When Gordon got home tonight, however late it was, she’d be there waiting for him, ready to show him how much she really did love him. All relationships were a negotiation. They’d jumped into this thing pretty fast, before they’d had a chance to really get to know each other. She expected their first few months together would be rocky. But tonight, when they slipped between the silk sheets, they could forget about what they did together badly and concentrate on what they did together well.
By eleven, Joanna was sick of waiting. Gordon still wasn’t home and she was losing patience. On a whim, she grabbed the phone and dialed David’s number in Atlanta. She didn’t expect them to be there. They had another whole week of vacation, so she assumed they’d decided to spend it somewhere else.
But Diego picked up after the third ring. “Hello?”
“Diego, it’s Joanna.”
Silence. Then Diego shouted, “David, it’s your sister. You wanna talk to her?”
Joanna heard the response. It was a no. “Tell him I have to talk to him. If you hang up, I’ll just call right back. And I’ll keep calling.”
“David,” yelled Diego. “I think you better take this.”
While she waited for her brother to come to the phone, she said, “Why did you and David leave like that? You never even said good-bye.”
“We don’t stay where we’re not wanted,” said Diego.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before he could answer, David came on the line. “What? Make it fast.”
“How come you left without saying good-bye?”
“Gee, did I hurt your feelings? I’ll say good-bye now. Good-bye.”
“David, don’t hang up!”
“Look, this hasn’t been a stellar couple days in my life. You’re entitled to your opinions and I’m entitled to tell you to go to hell.”
“Stop! You need to explain. What opinions?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t play ignorant. You’re too big a coward to tell Diego and me how you really feel, so you send your pool boy.”
“David, listen to me. I have no idea what you’re talking about. None.”
“I’m talking about Luberman.”
“What about him?”
“You are so goddamn manipulative. Are you trying to tell me you didn’t send him down to the bungalow before the birthday party with that lovely message?”
She was exhausted trying to drag this out of him. “No, I didn’t send Gordon to talk to you.”
“You’re saying it was all his idea?”
“That’s what I’m saying, yes.”
A long pause. “This is the truth, Jo? He wasn’t your messenger boy?”
“How many times do I have to repeat it. No!”
“Okay, but that still makes sense. He did it on his own, but you wanted him to do it. Just because you didn’t actually order him to talk to us—”
“About what?” she shouted.
“He said you two had talked about how uneasy you were with our ‘lifestyle.’ That you never really wanted us to visit but couldn’t bring yourself to say no.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Is it?”
“Yes!”
“Then where did Gordon get it?”
Joanna sat down on the floor in front of the couch. “David, this is very important. I want to know exactly—word for word—what he told you.”
She could hear him light up a cigarette.
“Well, okay,” he said, his voice losing some of its stiffness. “I’ll play along. In fact I’d love to tell you. Maybe then you’ll understand why this will probably be our last conversation this side of the grave.”
“Just say it.”
“All right. Gordo came down to the bungalow around eleven yesterday morning. He asked us to sit down in the living room, said he had something he needed to talk to us about. And then he let fly. Said that you were not only disgusted by faggots, as he was, but that it was all you could do to look me in the face. He said that you were a great actor, and that’s why we didn’t already know. He assured me that you loved me, but you’d never wanted me and Diego
to come visit. It just happened before you had the guts to tell us the truth. You were too kindhearted and blah blah blah. He said he believed in cosmic retribution and that if we didn’t stop what we were doing, we’d be punished. He said you agreed, in principle, but in your case, you felt sorry for me, for the trashy way I’d chosen to live my life. He explained that he’d never believed that being gay or straight wasn’t a choice, that Diego and I could be straight if we wanted—and that you basically agreed. He also said that our parents asked you if I was gay and you told them I was. That it nearly killed Dad, and that Mom was inconsolable.” David’s voice had grown husky, as if he was forcing himself not to cry. “Is that true? Did you tell Mom and Dad?”
Joanna was so shocked that it took her a moment to catch her breath. “Never, David. You asked me not to and I promised I wouldn’t. I’d never go back on a promise. You know me better than that, or at least I thought you did. I figured you’d tell them at some point, but then the car accident happened right before you and Diego got together, so it wasn’t possible. No, I never told them a thing.”
“Let me get this straight,” said David. “You’re telling me that everything Gordon said to us was a lie?”
“Yes—except for his personal comments about how he sees being gay. That was probably true.”
“He told us that we should leave and never come stay at the bungalow again. That that’s what you wanted. If we decided to call or send cards or letters, that was one thing. But staying at your place was like rubbing your nose in our deviant behavior. Before he left, he said that it was your wish that we continue with the birthday celebration. That if we loved you, we wouldn’t let any of this sour your big day. By then, I didn’t give a rip about your big day. But Diego and I talked about it. Just because you behaved like a hateful shit didn’t mean we had to. We tried our best to get through it. Our best, I guess, was to get drunk. And then, as Gordon suggested, we left this afternoon.”
She shook her head and kept shaking it. “David, I’m dumbfounded. I never said any of that. We’ve never even talked about you.” She stopped. “No, that’s wrong. Gordon asked me yesterday morning if you guys were friends. I told him you were gay. That was it. That was all I said.”
“So you don’t—”
“David, I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re gay, straight, bi, pink, blue, or
purple. You’re my brother and I love you. Do you think I’m so intolerant, so narrow-minded and stupid that I don’t see being gay for what it is—a variation. Like left-handedness. Like color blindness. It’s no freaking big deal to me and it never has been!”
David didn’t speak for almost a minute. Finally, he said, “Joanna, you gotta get rid of that guy. Do it now. Change your locks. Tell him you never want to see him again. He’s poison.”
She could feel a deep fury building inside her. “Don’t worry. When Gordon gets home tonight, he’s in for one big surprise.”