CHAPTER 16: THE ORIGINAL DEFINITION OF C.U.N.T. MEETS THE NEW ONE Take TWO

(Day One of Preliminary Competition)

RU

I can’t help but feel the anticipation in the air as these wonderful artists set up to begin this groundbreaking competition… well, most of them anyway. As I watch the latecomer to the competition and her obviously-inept companion, I can’t quite figure out her angle. I know that based on what we all heard yesterday, Lindsay Peterson may only be qualified to teach fingerpainting to preschool children. Yet she’s determined to be here among these elite artists within their chosen fields. Ordinarily, I would say that there is nothing wrong with ambition. Hell, if I’m honest, without me having the incredible drive I’ve displayed within my own career, there’s no telling where I might have ended up. But the fact that this venue is going to be internationally televised is what’s making her being here so puzzling to me. 

Is it that she’s simply trying to bulldoze her way into an arena she’s sorely unqualified for? Is it that she feels she has something to prove to more than just the Taylor faction? Is there some unnamed ghost she’s fighting? There are so many questions regarding her motivations. Since, if she doesn’t succeed as she so obviously hopes, she’s going to be laughed off the world’s stage, and not just locally. But then perhaps it’s the thrill of being notorious for something that’s driving her at this point. 

She’ll no longer be just the unidentified Felicia everyone has taken to saying ‘goodbye’ to. Instead, she will be known as Lindsay Peterson- Failure Extraordinaire. Because honestly, with this much seasoned talent in one room, there’s no way she can even place fourth as she stated last night. I can’t imagine how desperate for attention someone has to be in order to want that type of notoriety. It’s actually kind of sad.

Which brings me to the subject of her minion, and the idiotic scene he’d made just a short while ago. I’ve spoken to Brett and Connor about his motivation in going along with Lindsay, and I have to tell you that I just want to smack him back into reality. Brett told me of his short history with Michael Novotny; particularly about the man’s tendency to demand that things be done his way, and whine a person into submission when they aren’t. Sadly, I’ve known people like him throughout my career. They’re those people who think their talent- or lack thereof- gives them the right to treat people as property instead of human beings, often under the guise of friendship. 

I have to say that I’ve never liked folks like that, and in my former years would have had no problem taking those unfortunate souls down a peg or five hundred. In fact, some of those same people were around when I was performing all over the country, just trying to make a name for myself. However, as I came into my own within this industry, I also began to wonder why I attracted such desperate, mean-spirited people. And while I realized that I myself could be a bitch, it wasn’t for the sole purpose to make someone else’s life miserable, as I suspect is Michael Novotny’s true aim in all of this is, in regards to Justin, and ultimately Brian. Whereas my inherent bitchiness- and doesn't everyone have that side to them?- was more about self-advocating, his definitely seems more steeped in pure selfishness.   

One thing’s for certain: It’s going to be interesting to see if Lindsay and Michael implode, or pull together in what seems to be their ultimate goal. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that it’s to cause trouble for the art world’s latest Darling and his handsome husband. But there’s also the matter of their individual hidden agendas in all of this. While Lindsay seems to be pulling for Michael to have his black heart’s desire, I’m more apt to believe that he doesn’t yet have the full story. I can only hope that for his own sake, he realizes that fact before he burns all of his bridges… 

Including the one that leaves him without a penny to his name.

Because it’s more than obvious that leaving Michael broke and broken is definitely one of Lindsay’s goals. Well, enough introspection regarding the concern of idiots. It’s time to get this first round of prelims underway!

JUSTIN

Okay. So it’s NOT nice to laugh at the misfortunes of others. I mean, their load of crap can be yours tomorrow; it’s the way Karma works. But I wonder if there is an exception to that rule as I stand here watching Lindsay constantly harrangue and badger Michael. I mean, after all, they wouldn’t be making fools and nuisances of themselves if they weren’t trying every trick they could think of to interfere with our lives. It’s why, as of this moment, I can’t find one cell in my body that’s going to allow me any sympathy for them.

“Keep your head in the game and not on the assholes, Sunshine,” Brian leans down, whispering into my ear from behind. 

I didn’t even see him approach, even though I was aware he was here the second he entered the building. Sometimes, that uncanny ability to know when he’s within touching distance scares me. But even then, the anticipation of seeing him, of touching or tasting him which thrums through my blood upon his arrival, is as addictive as the most powerful drug. I clear my throat of the instant craving for him trying to claw its way out of my body into his. “I’m just watching the show like everyone else, Brian.”

“True, but trust me, they’re getting off on YOU watching. It gives them confirmation that you are undoubtedly aware of them. Trust me on this, Jus. The minute you stop giving them the attention they so obviously crave, they are going to pipe down on the antics. Of all the people in this room, you know I’m telling you the truth. And you have to have that kind of mentality all throughout this competition, as well. Remember that YOU are the professional here; not them.”

I know what he’s saying is correct, but part of me wants to be childish and gloat. Part of me wants to laugh and smile and tease, but Brian’s right. I’m not only a professional artist here with a thriving career, but I’m also the ADULT. So no, I don’t have time for children’s games, but… “Just promise me one thing, Bri?”

“Tell me what you want me to promise first, and then I’ll decide if I can honor it,” he responds, and I want to both smack and kiss him at the same time. It’s something he’s always done, even in jest. He always wants to know what I’m asking him to agree to before he’ll automatically give his word not to try to stop me.

“I want your word that as long as I don’t become physically violent, that when the time is right, I can hit back just as hard as they are working to strike out against us.”

“It depends on what they do, but what do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know yet, but trust me that I’ll know the moment it needs to happen. And then you’ll be warned beforehand, although I promise that you won’t have to do damage control from my end of things. Deal?”

He smiles at me in place of his verbal promise, already knowing that whatever tactic I choose to use will seem completely innocent and out-of-left field, even if it’s already being calculated. The strange thing is that I don’t have anything lurking immediately just yet. Like I told Brian, I’ll know exactly what to do once Michael and Lindsay show their hands. As Brian pulls me into him and kisses my lips, softly at first and then with more passion, we’re interrupted by the loud ‘WHOOP-WHOOP’ coming from behind us. I laugh against his puckered lips, already knowing exactly what that sound means.

Cheryl Hargrave has entered the building! 

I turned quickly to catch the heat-seeking missile heading straight for me, reminded of the very first day I met her. As soon as she and I were introduced by Brett, her next words were “Catch Me”, and from that day to this one, it’s been our standard greeting. Cheryl is one of those most rare creatures in Hollywood- that which is unadulteratedly, unapologetically real! What you see is what you get with her. If she likes you, she’ll develop a relationship with you from the first moment you meet her.

But if she doesn’t… well, you’re shit out of luck because she’ll have no problem NOT letting you live in your delusion or comfort zone. In a lot of ways, it’s what drew me to her, since she reminds me of the man I fell in love with. It relieves my mind to know that, along with everyone else, Cheryl is taking this journey to greatness with me. And more importantly, that she’s not only going to be watching my back, but Brian’s as well.

“You’ve already been informed of everything that’s going on?”

“And you know it, Baby Boy. It’s why Miranda is hanging back and will greet me right after I do… Hey, Stud,” she addresses Brian, even while still holding onto me. Now, their first meeting was a trip if there ever was one, and I know from the wicked gleam in her sea green eyes that she’s about to do a recreation of it.

“Cheryl, my love. Got any sugar?” He responds, apparently already knowing what she’s up to.

“For you, Darling, there’s plenty.” And as I pass her from my arms to Brian’s, she wraps her arms around his neck and plants one helluva kiss on him.

Now if I was a jealous man, I would be feeling mighty insecure right now. Honestly, if either of them were straight, this kiss would be considered hetero-porn worthy, despite the Officer and A Gentleman pose they’re in. But since I know that Brian is unequivocally mine, just as Cheryl is irrevocably in love with Miranda, there’s not even a twinge of resentfulness. However, even without looking in their direction, I can feel the waves of malevolence being directed towards Cheryl from three people in this room. And obviously, I’m not alone in the feeling since Miranda comes to stand beside me to my right, just as Daphne flanks my left. 

As the kiss draws to a close, Cheryl pulls back from Brian, smacking her lips. “En tant qu aficionado embrassant, je dois vous dire que vous êtes un homme chanceux, bébé.” (As a kissing aficionado, I have to tell you that you are one lucky man, baby boy)

I’m about to answer her, when Brian decides to do it for both of us… and fuck if he isn’t HOT when he speaks french. “Nous ressentons la même chose en ce qui concerne Miranda. Et ce brillant à lèvres cerise bombe ... Ouais, belle touche, chérie.” (We feel the same in regards to Miranda. And that cherry bomb lip gloss... Yeah, nice touch, Sweetheart)

“Vraiment, Jus?! Vraiment, il parle aussi le français?!" Daphne asks, before declaring, "Oh putain d'enfer! Est-ce que c'est juste devenu CHAUD ici ou quoi?!" (Oh fucking hell! Did it just get HOT in here, or what?)

And whereas Miranda barely finds her voice to start humming the chorus ‘Fire’ from the Ohio Players, I just stare at Brian. He knows exactly what it does to me when he pulls out french, spanish, or italian. As Brian gently replaces Cheryl on her feet, she automatically reaches inside her jeans pocket and hands me the small tube. At first, I looked at it puzzled, but then at her raised eyebrow and small smirk, I opened the cap and squeezed a small amount onto my fingertip. Then never taking my eyes from his, I smear the dot onto my bottom lip before rubbing them together. 

“Embrasse moi,” I whispered.

There was no mistaking the message, nor Brian’s immediate response which was to pull me to him and devour me. Folks can call this unquenchable passion the honeymoon stage all they want. It doesn’t matter since I know it’s just the magic of me and him. Regardless of if everything was fine between Brian and I or not, this kind of need, want, and desire has only gotten more intense over the years. Even the screeching whine coming towards us ordering us to stop it as if it’s a police siren isn’t extinguishing this raging inferno beginning to burn within us. 

Before I can even register what’s happening, I’m lifted by those same strong arms that held my friend not even three minutes ago, and all I can do is hold on as Brian starts moving briskly towards the elevator across the room. I don’t even have to worry about being followed by the idiot brigade since anyone who just saw the heat in which Brian took my lips is going to WANT to see the evidence of where such an exchange inevitably leads. In other words, they are waiting to see me come back into the room thoroughly ravaged and debauched. And you know what? Considering the company within that room, I’m NOT minding that one damn bit!

“Où aller?” Brian growled in my ear, right before nipping at it. The moan that left me had to be loud enough for everyone to hear, even as I try to concentrate on his question of where we should go.

“Mmm... I can’t leave here right now, and no doubt that your fanclub of two will certainly give chase.”

“Yeah, but they don’t know this building.”

“True, but we have offices both downstairs and on the top floor, although they aren’t fully set up yet. However, I wouldn’t put it past them to have memorized the marquee. After all, they are going to work hard to try to corner you at every opportunity, regardless of the rules and whatever was stated within Lindsay’s set of papers. It’s why she has her mealymouthed mouthpiece tagging along so closely.”

He nods in acknowledgment, and then says, “You know, I don’t want to talk about them right now. I’d rather talk about all the ways my body is going to speak to yours in just a few moments.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask, smiling seductively at the salacious gleam that has entered Brian’s eyes. 

“Yeah, which is why I’m taking my twat to le toit.” We both snicker at the irony of how closely related the two phrases sound, even if the latter means ‘the roof’ in french. It’s just another testament to the goofy humor we only find and appreciate with each other. 

As we alight from the elevator onto the top floor before climbing the short flight of stairs to the rooftop oasis very few know is up here, I decide to double back for a moment. Narrowing my eyes, I strategically press random buttons, including the ones for the floors our other offices are on. Not only will the dumbasses trying to give chase have to stop at every floor in between, but undoubtedly, they will press the stop button in the elevator so that they can get off and search the floor thoroughly before going back in to reach their final destination.

“Sunshine, what are you doing?” Brian asks me, as he pulls me against his body from behind.

“Buying us some seriously uninterrupted time. You don’t trust those Bozos any more than I do. And that’s especially true since we both know that Lindsay will yank Michael’s chain until he goes to do her bidding. Not that he would need much encouragement, considering the numerous times he’s actually broken into the loft while we were mid-fuck. I’m not in the mood today to have his beady eyes watching my ass ride your cock while daydreaming that he’s the one on your lap. The fucker probably has a flesh-toned dildo with your name written in Sharpie on it.” I quickly rethink pressing some of the buttons within the cab of the elevator and just press them all instead.

Brian shuddered at the imagery I’ve so obviously conjured within his mind. “Ouch, that thought is choking the hell out of my dick and brain right now, and not in any way that’s going to get you laid.”

I snicker and then step back, rubbing my ass all over his Armani-clad cock. “Well then, I suggest we rectify your problem immediately.”

Brian growls into my ear, before promptly turning me around to face him. “Well then, we should get started. Embrasse moi!”

And it’s always going to be my pleasure to kiss him.

MIRANDA

“Fuckers Idiot pral jis pa janm aprann, yo pral?” Daphne muttered, while watching the eternal trainwrecks of Michael Novotny and Lindsay Peterson scurry, trying to catch the closing elevator doors. Fortunately, they were blocked by Herman and Andy, the wonderful security guards that Brian and Justin had the forethought to hire for working the competition. 

It was initially thought that they would be needed solely for people trying to sneak into the competition site in an effort to get the scoop on what was happening behind the scenes that the public more than likely won’t see. Something about the undesirables not having a way to get in past the two human fortresses guarding the door. Besides, we didn’t want to compromise the intellectual properties and copyrighted designs of our illustrious contestants. Hence deep-sixing the idea of ‘Who did it best’. Sure, everyone is given a general category to begin their creative process with.

But now, with the current turn of events, two of the same type of troublemakers- Stacey Peete aside- that we were trying to keep out of here have been granted admittance based upon Lindsay’s lie. I looked over at the woman in question, as she turned her glare to Daphne. It’s more than obvious that she heard and understood the first two words of Daph’s rhetorical question. I mean, there’s only so many ways fucking idiots can be misinterpreted, even within the scope of a foreign language. But while it was also clear that she somewhat understood the initial exchange between Brian, Cheryl, and Justin, with what Daphne just said… Lindsay seems unsure all of a sudden. And as Daphne repeats her statement, I understand exactly why.

“Non, li evidan ke yo se sa ki grann mwen rele 'Aprann Hard.' Depi konbyen tan ou te pale kreyòl, Daphne?” I ask. The more I’m learning about Daphne Chanders, the more I find her fascinating. And the fact that not only does she speak French as if she was born and raised in France, but to speak this one fluently, too! WOW! “Ak konbyen lòt lang ou ka pale kouran?”

She smiles wide in surprise at me before answering. “I speak eight languages fluently, but Creole I’ve spoken just about all my life. My paternal grandmother was born and raised in the ninth ward of New Orleans, but her parents were Hatian immigrants. And although she and my father left Louisiana many years ago, they still spoke the language everyday while I was growing up.”

“How the hell did you get to be so accomplished at your age?” 

It doesn’t even seem like she should be the brainiac she so obviously is. She looks all sweet, playful and unassuming. But as soon as she opens her mouth, you learn not to underestimate her. No wonder she and Justin are best friends, since he comes across the exact same way. It makes them both intriguing and scary at the same time. 

“Remember I was going to be a doctor. So my parents insisted that I also study different languages in case I ever ran into a patient, and didn’t have immediate access to an interpreter. Those precious few seconds spent trying to figure out a way around the language barrier, could be crucial in saving their lives.”

“That was brilliant thinking on their parts. And in all honesty, I think your gift for foreign languages is going to come as a handy surprise here during the competition. But tell me, does Justin have the same skills in terms of language?”

“Pretty much since we grew up together, although I think he speaks nine languages now. It’s been a long time since I’ve asked him so that I could keep up. But as for how we got so good at learning languages it’s because we really only separated to attend our family’s vacations, or if we had to go home to our parents’ house. Even then we would spend most of the time honing the foreign language, while still concentrating on our course load from the advanced classes we were taking. Plus we’d still spend an hour or so on the phone afterwards, speaking in the new language we’d learned. So whatever I learned, I taught it to Justin and vice versa. We even developed a game in which we would start off in one language, then switch it in the middle of the conversation. It helped us to absorb the nuances of the languages faster.”

“That’s amazing! And it gives me an idea.”

“Oh?”

“Definitely,” I smile at her, and then begin to map out my plan for her. “Running this by Justin should be a cinch, but…”

“Whomever we work with will have to be well-versed in another language besides English and French, one that the two of us can speak fluently.” Daphne laughs. “I can just see the tears and tantrums now from both Tweedledee and Tweedleledumb. As you can see, their inherent intrusiveness is a disease they can’t be cured of through the normal channels. I mean, if it were up to me, I would just slam their big fucking nosy noses in a door jamb and have done with it. But since violence IS frowned upon, I think this will work much better.”

“Tell you what… let’s nab Cheryl, and then go hunting for some models. She knows a vast array of them due to her profession, and will be able to call some in at a moment’s notice since they all adore Justin. With this thought in mind, I know that Justin will be appreciative if we can get this started immediately. Surely among the Queens, there are a couple who are at least bilingual since most of them are internationally known. It’s all about finding the right combination to create the correct image and set the tone for the competition. Besides, there’s no telling how long Brian and Justin are going to be,” I say, wryly. 

In all honesty, I would rather be doing the same thing to Cheryl after that hot as fuck kiss with Brian, even if it was done between the most platonic of friends. However, after kissing me sensually, but all too briefly, she needed to go get her passes, both as a model and as a creative assistant. Everyone has to have them at all times if they expect to be let into the work area and mainstage- another way to keep imposters out. I roll my eyes at the scene the two biggest posers are continuing to make. I almost laugh as Michael feigns left and then right before making a beeline for the empty elevator that has opened up on the floor. 

The funny thing is that there is still no way to tell whether Brian and Justin have gone up or down in their escape. But I’m sure he’ll search the entire building in his quest to be an overbearing asshole once again. Lindsay’s admonishment to him to find Brian and Justin NOW, and her obvious frustration that she can’t join in his search is really chapping her ass. I don’t know whether to be relieved or sad that she didn’t take the bait in violating the terms of the verbal agreement in reference to the competition. But I don’t have time to examine the complexities of my feelings about Lindsay Peterson at this point. 

But then again, since I am representing one of Kinnetik’s owners, I can stoke a fire or two…

MICHAEL:

FUCKING HELL! This holdup is getting us NOWHERE! I don’t know what the hell they were saying, but it was obvious that Lindsay knew, especially when she whisper-yelled at me to stop them. I didn’t stop to think to ask her what she knew, just spurred into action to keep Brian from whisking Boy Wonder away to fuck their brains out. It’s like he didn’t even hear me yelling for him, which used to at least stop him in his tracks. It’s completely unacceptable and I’m not having this shit ANYMORE!

“Move out of my way!” I order the two big mountains blocking my progress to the elevators, along with my view of the numbers going up or down. 

“Since you don’t have clearance to go anywhere else within the building, the answer is NO,” the bigger of the two answered.

“He’s NOT playing! And I will call the police for unlawful detainment if you don’t let my employee through immediately,” Lindsay declared. 

Ordinarily, that particular tone she uses is the one I absolutely hate. It makes her sound like one of my most hated teachers from high school with the authority of my mom. But I have to admit that her using that particular voice seems to be most appropriate at this time, judging by the surprise on the two human mountains’ faces. It gives me yet another idea for the new comic that’s been stewing around in my brain to pitch to Brett and Connor. Speaking of which, where are they?

As Lindsay continues to stand here arguing with the guys, I decide to make a break for the elevator which just reopened on the floor we’re on. She sees me and calls out, smugly, “Make sure to call me when you find them. I really don’t give a shit about that bullshit piece of paper. It’s time that Brian and I get a few things straight about my expectations going forward.”

Before I can answer her though, that bitch Miranda jumps into our private conversation. “Then you must not care about your standing within this competition either, Lindsay. But more importantly, you must be willing to jeopardize your supposed standing within the art world as well. After all, you agreed to the stipulations laid out in those papers publicly, and at a press conference, no less. Surely, you read the entertainment section of today’s paper?”

“What the hell has that got to do with anything?” Lindsay asks through gritted teeth, clearly not happy at being reminded of whatever was in those papers.

“It actually has everything to do with what you’re trying to send your minion to accomplish. You’re BOTHERING Brian and Justin, which would mean that you lied about agreeing to the terms. As it is, your presence here at a competition you’re clearly not qualified for is disturbing enough on a professional level, and not because it’s YOU, the way you’re thinking. It’s that you’re about to make a fool of yourself on an international stage, which is bound to have the industry as a whole being talked about for the wrong reasons instead of getting it the very deserved recognition these phenomenal artists deserve. 

“But then again, that’s the selfishness inherent within you, so we all really shouldn’t be surprised. After all, according to some very reliable sources, you’ve spent your entire life trying to garner the attention you ‘deserve’, even if it is only within your insane brain. So we’ll just chalk this up to all publicity being good publicity for just about everyone else in the room. You on the other hand…”

Lindsay narrowed her eyes at the woman in front of her, looking as if she wanted to clock Miranda. I don’t blame her. It seems that Justin’s arrogance has rubbed off on the bitch in the worst way! But as I look at Lindsay, she refocuses on me. “Michael, find them.”

I nod once and enter the elevator which was just about to close. At the clank of the doors, I realize that all of the buttons had been pressed. FUCK! 

MIRANDA:

Once I walk back over to Daphne, who had just hung up her phone, she informs me with a small smirk on her lips, “They’ll be back even before the judges get to their table.” 

“What is it that you know about them that I don’t?”

Daphne smiles full-on then. “That ‘Action’ is NOT a word they take lightly.” 

“I’ll give you that, Daph, but what else?”

“Se sèlman ke ou te eseye sispann moun sòt a soti nan kite etaj la. Ki kantite ou vle parye ke li reyèlman pa ka swiv lòd Lindsay a? Mwen vle di san telefòn li, ak pas la ki se ale nan kou l 'pou re-antre ak tout …”

And I don’t even try to stop the laughter that bubbled out of me, knowing that Lindsay Peterson is about to have the worst first day ever recorded ANYWHERE. It’s so sad that Michael didn’t even remember his phone in his haste to leave, which we’ve all noticed now since it’s about to vibrate itself right off the workstation while blasting out the Superman theme, over and over again. But the thing that’s going to have Lindsay pissing bricks is that without the re-entry card, which was included in the disregarded packet next to the phone, there’s no way Michael is going to be able to act as her model for the competition. At least not today, since it’s written in the rules that the ID must be with the participants, their staff, and the Alwin’s crew-be it a direct employee or one of the many businesses setting up shop here- at all times within the building. Michael won’t even be able to hitch a ride with someone else on the elevator since once on the floor, there is another security check where the IDs are to be scanned before exiting the elevator.

And Daphne, the incredibly intelligent young woman that she is, has just advised the remotely-located security company to activate ALL the measures once Michael entered the elevator. As she said, I did try to warn him not to go, so really, it’s not my fault he and his bitchy boss didn’t listen. In fact, Andy even pointed out to Michael that he didn’t have clearance to travel anywhere within the building. Surely, the next question out of his mouth should have been ‘why not’ when it was clear that he was working with Lindsay. But as usual, neither of them actually thinks beyond their single brain-celled focus in order to ask the right questions, which would save them from completely looking like the assholes they are. 

I mean, it’s one thing for someone to think that about you, but to have Lindsay and Michael keep proving their idiocy… Well, it’s bound to be entertaining for the masses, while becoming boring and predictable for the rest of us. I wish she would just quit while she’s at least able to save one of the many faces she’s shown. Perhaps then someone would have been willing to take a little pity on her. After all, she’s been saddled with Michael Novotny as her only ally. But when has Lindsay Peterson ever been known to actually employ her gift of self-preservation at her own expense, instead of hiding behind others to do it on her behalf? 

Anyway, I would feel awful for her but… Nah! My feelings for and about Lindsay Peterson just aren’t set up that way.