"I didn't know you wear makeup."
"Sometimes."
"I like it. Screw gender roles."
I smiled at Lafayette in the mirror as I applied mascara. I only wore it when I went to a really gay club, which was the plan for the evening. I was going with Alisha, the only person I ever actually went to gay clubs with. It was the twenty-ninth, and she was on vacation until the second. I put on my white, sheer button down and black pants that were so tight they looked painted on. My shirt was unbuttoned a little on the top and I put on my black boots with a small, chunky heel. I turned to Lafayette and asked, "How do I look?"
"You look great. Let me fix your hair," He came over and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of my face, pushed it back down and then to the side. "There, like a model."
I smiled, finding myself presentable. I grabbed my black coat and tossed it on. "Alright, I'll be back later," I told him.
"Are you sure you wanna go out?" he asked me, following me to the door.
"Yeah," I said. I was already leaving? "Alisha and I haven't spent time together in a while. She said we were having a girl's night, which doesn't demean my masculinity at all or anything."
"You should just invite her to the New Year's party then."
"Well, I had planned on doing that, but I had also planned on going out tonight with her as well. Why don't you want me to go?"
He shrugged. "No reason. Just be safe."
"You sound like my mother," I told him.
"I know. Just call me if you need anything."
"I will."
"I can pick you up if you want."
"Alright Faye."
"Don't take drinks from strangers."
I raised a brow at him. "Lafayette," I said, cupping his face in my hands. "I'm going to be fine. I doubt I'll be gone too long. I'm not going to mess with sketchy people. I know if anyone messes with me you'll make sure they never do it again." I removed my hands, thinking I probably shouldn't have done that...
"I'll have them killed if they touch you."
I smiled and hugged him, saying, "Aw, your death threats mean the world to me Faye."
He laughed, releasing me from the hug and smiled at me. He didn't smile with his teeth that often. Usually he was just smirking. Though when he smiled with his teeth showing, giving a genuine smile, it really lit up the room. It took a lot to make him give a genuine smile, and so it was always nice to see it. "Have fun, but not too much fun," he said.
"Bye Faye."
"See you tonight."
I went down the elevator and outside where I called a cab, telling him to take me to The Hole. Yeah. The name of the club was The Hole. I called Alisha, telling her I was on my way, and I saw her standing outside, waiting for me. She looked great and ready to find another outstandingly beautiful person for the night.
The Hole was a popular club and it was packed with beautiful people. I didn't see one single creep. I felt out of place at first, like I wasn't nearly beautiful enough for these sculpted men. However, Alisha introduced me to a guy she knew from college and I ended up hanging out with him and his group of friends and they were all trying to get with me. I loved going to clubs and I loved flirting, even if I didn't plan on going home with anyone. They bought me drinks, I took a few blowjob shots and body shots. Batting my eyelashes, hands on knees, laughing at things that weren't as funny as they thought - I was a good flirt when I actually wanted to be. Too bad the person I wanted to flirt with most was off limits.
We danced on the floor in the masses of bodies, and I wasn't even sure if I was around the guys I started the night with. I started dancing with this impossibly gorgeous man with dark, smooth skin, a bright smile, and huge hands. I liked the way he touched me so I asked him if he wanted to go into the bathroom, surprising him, but he agreed.
Since I was tipsy, I blurted out, "You're not infected are you?"
He laughed. "No, beautiful, I wouldn't do that if I was," he said. "I'm just a guy who's going to have sex in a bathroom for the first time."
"Oh really," I said. "My first time was in a bathroom, believe it or not."
He laughed, sliding his hands along me.
"Don't call me. I am head over heels for someone else," I slurred. This guy was gorgeous and I was horny, and he was also nice, but if I thought about it too long I started to get sad that it wasn't Lafayette. Plus, he had a shaved head, which was so sexy on him, but I was a grabby person when getting fucked so I wanted to be able to grab some hair.
We made out, sloppy, and he turned me around over a toilet. He was good, and I came easily, probably too soon but I was too intoxicated to care. He was intoxicated too and so it was really sloppy but fun but depressing as I hadn't gotten fucked plenty of times but wanted to make love. Maybe there really wasn't a difference between the two. After, we made out in the bathroom, and this sinking feeling came over me so I suddenly threw up in the toilet.
He cleaned me up, buttoned my shirt, and sat me down at a table. "I think it's time you should go home," he said.
"No. I wanna get liver disease," I whined.
"Did you come here with anyone?"
"My sister."
"Where's she at?"
"She's probably getting fucked too. I dunno."
He grabbed my phone, asking who I should call.
"Lafayette's Work."
He scrolled through my contacts until he found him. "Holy shit, the Lafayette Jeff?" the guy asked into the phone. "Sorry, um, I'm with your...friend, Emerson, and he needs to be picked up...I'm a friend of his...yes...okay...okay great...thank you." He ended the call and turned to me. "He said he's on his way. So what the hell? You're friends with him? Fuck buddies?"
"I'm his assistant," I said, my eyes closed, leaning against the wall. "I would let him fuck me for hours but I dunno, guess it's unethical in reality."
"That's really cool, and...yeah, he's hot."
"Mhm," I groaned, resting my head on the table.. "I've never done it with a black guy before."
He laughed. "That's a microaggression but I'm used to it."
My phone chimed a few minutes later. Lafayette had a phone in his car and sent me a message saying he was there to pick me up. "What's your name?" I asked.
"Owen," he said.
"Nice fucking with you," I said. "But I have to go be a hopeless romantic elsewhere."
"Okay Em, goodnight."
I stumbled out of the club after retrieving my coat from the front and went to Lafayette's incognito car, meaning it was all black and impossible to look into. I got into the front seat. He was in his pants, shirtless, but with a coat on, his hair messy, a hickey on his neck.
He was fucking someone else when I was getting fucked. He didn't want to fuck me, but I wondered if he thought about me. We looked at each other for a few seconds without saying anything, not entirely sure what we were looking for in each other.
"Are you okay?" he asked and I nodded. He said I was drunk.
"I am not drunk," I slurred.
"Of course not," he told me.
"You believed me dumbass. I am so hammered. I haven't been this hammered in forever."
"You're only twenty-one. I'd be surprised if you drank before."
I glared at him with my glassy eyes. "I'm twenty-two, Faye. You should know that. I turn twenty-three in May."
He didn't say anything, but I knew damn well he knew my age. What an ass. "I don't want to turn twenty-three," I said. "It's so far from now anyway. Bad things could happen within the next few months and it scares me." I stared at the hazy, shining lights of the city as we drove on. "What if my mom or my dad isn't there to see me get older?"
"That won't be the case, Em, they'll be there for you and it'll be great," he said.
"How the fuck do you know? You're not a psychic. When I graduated, I had two classmates that were twins. Two weeks later, one of them died from a heart attack. Their birthday was three weeks away. See? Bad things happen and since you're not a freaking psychic you're no help. Go away. Ass."
"Em, you're getting emotional."
"No I'm not. People are going to die and I'm going to cry. They say that people who are dying are able to put off death for special occasions, like holidays and stuff like that. That's a lot of bull. It's like when Kenneth killed himself." I was intoxicated, too intoxicated to realize I said Kenneth's name for the first time in years.
We made it to the flat a few minutes later. I changed out of my pants and started to unbutton my shirt but was too tired and drunk to finish so I sat on the bed in my shirt and underwear. Lafayette was in the office. He came back in with two empty wine glasses. He made sure to wine whoever he had sex with. Did they finish having sex, or did my phone call interrupt him? They probably finished. Otherwise I doubt he would've picked me up until he was done. After changing into his pajama pants he sat next to me in bed. "Who's Kenneth?" he asked.
"He was my best friend, my neighbor. He shot himself when we were kids." I was too tired to continue talking and fell asleep.
I had a dream that night, and when I get tipsy then I usually have really bad dreams. I don't remember it in full detail, but it involved Kenneth. I was at a birthday party in the backyard and I was walking inside. I went into the back bedroom and Kenneth was hanging from the ceiling. He looked at me and said something about my family.
I never wake up in the middle of the night but since I had a bad dream I was relieved to have woken up. It was dark but the small blue light coming from the security system on the ceiling gave me enough light to make out Lafayette's body. I never saw him asleep before. I always fell asleep before him and woke up after him. It was the most peaceful I had ever seen his face look. I was mad at him coming home, but at that moment I was scared. I rolled over to him and rest my head on his shoulder, clutching him, shaking a little as the image of my old best friend dead stayed in my mind.
He's a light sleeper, so he woke up and put an arm around me, asking, "What's wrong?"
I shook my head, still a little intoxicated but mostly emotional. "I just had a really bad dream," I whispered, my voice high. When he put his other arm around me I started to cry more. "It was about my friend Kenneth. He killed himself on his fourteenth birthday. I never think about it anymore because I was still thirteen, we were in the eighth grade. He shot himself. He left a note saying it was because he was gay and he thought his parents wouldn't accept him. I didn't go to his funeral and I've hardly thought about it or talked about it since then but I really wish I realized I was gay because then he wouldn't have felt so alone."
"You know it's not your fault, though," Faye whispered.
"I know, but that doesn't mean I couldn't have prevented it. I mean..." I shook my head, wiping my watered cheeks. "I kissed him once, when we were twelve. I kissed him and he didn't shove me away. He smiled and laughed and didn't call me a fag or anything. I should've known. Then I could've told him I was gay and that we could be gay together and he'd be fine. But no."
"Em, you can't blame yourself."
"But I could've done something."
"You could've but you didn't and even if you had do you really think he'd still be alive? Do you think that his parents' words still wouldn't haunt him? You can't live with the blame, Em."
I sighed. "There was a reason why I hadn't thought of him in years." I rolled over so we were on our sides, facing each other. "How do you do it? I mean...Marcus and everything."
"Well," he sighed. "Marcus once said something to me. He said to always try and find a positive in something. It was very hard for him to do that, but I did for him. While he's in a coma, he's healing. I visited him over three years ago, and the doctors said his body has been cleaned of drugs and his addiction has been reduced. He's healing peacefully. Then I told you about him waking up and what I think."
"Do you think his mental problems are healing?"
"I don't know. The doctors haven't scanned his brain but if they have then I wouldn't know anything about it. I don't think mental health can just 'heal' all of a sudden. It's a continuous journey."
"I guess a positive is that he knows that he's not going to Hell, and that his parents learned the truth about homosexuality."
"There you go. I don't think people have destinies or everything is planned out, but I like to think about the cause and effect. Remember at your aunt's funeral, how you said she said the best can come from the worst?"
"Yeah. It's just more obstacles to overcome I guess."
"Exactly, and overcoming them pays off."
I smiled tiredly at him but his eyes were closed. I wanted to ask him why he wasn't happy even finding the positives in things. I also wanted to ask him if he really forgot how old I was. "Goodnight, Faye."
A few hours later I called my mom and told her she had to visit me some time because she hadn't yet and so she was planning to soon.
After I showered, Lafayette and I went into the workroom where his New Year's party was going to be. It was very exclusive and it was kind of a huge honor to be invited. We pushed Michael's, Emilio's, and Vince's desks into Lafayette's office and moved the couches against the wall on either side of the door. Tables were set up along the long window with regal printed tablecloths to match the workroom, which had wood flooring and dark blue walls. Center pieces were set up as well - blue crystal figurines. We removed some of the books and put speakers in where music would be coming out and the stereo was set up between them. Coffee tables were placed in front of the couches and smaller tables were set up, too, along with chairs to go with them.
A giant, flat screen TV was hung up above the door so everyone could watch the ball drop. Then it was nothing but other decorations, but they weren't the cheap decorations you buy at Party City. He had fancy wall décor, which were pictures of memorable events that had happened the past year. Then he had fancy candles placed around that emitted blue light. Then blue floral lights were hung up around the room and not a single flower was out of place. They were all hung up neatly and when the lights were off it gave this blue, romantic lighting that was just the right amount to see everything.
He then took me out to buy some clothes, as if I didn't have enough.
"Hello Marion," Lafayette greeted once we arrived at the fashion building. "Carla."
Mr. Rodriguez and Carla both smiled at him. "What can I do for you today?"
"Well, tomorrow is the party and Emerson needs something to wear," he said.
"Right, right," Mr. Rodriguez said, glancing at me, fist under chin as he wondered what to do with me. "What about clothes from your Ideal Line?"
"I think that would suit the party. Maybe the white-"
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. And the black-"
"Yeah along with the-"
"Yes, perfect. Alright. Carla, take Emerson please and put him in the clothes we just said."
"Can do," she said. "Follow me Emerson." I followed her, having no idea what clothes they had talked about.
She went down the hall and retrieved some for me and handed them to me to try on. That's when I learned what they were. A pair of white shorts, a black sweater, and a white undershirt with a collar, but the white undershirt was sleeveless. Unbelievable. They weren't jeans or anything. It's like they were regular white dress pants, but with the pant legs cut off. Carla told me to tuck in my shirts and I looked at myself in the mirror. Really, I liked it, but I wasn't confident enough to wear this in front of people. I walked out to where Lafayette and Mr. Rodriguez were.
"He looks great! And he already shaves his legs. Ever thought of being a model Emerson?" Mr. Rodriguez asked.
"Does it fit okay?" Lafayette asked.
"Yeah," I said, and he could hear the negative tone in my voice.
"Marion," he said. "Can you go and find me some sunglasses? White with gold and silver."
"I'll see what we have. Come on Carla."
The two of them left so he could talk to me. "Do you not like it?" he asked me.
I had my arms crossed, a bunch of frustration I had kept inside for a while rising up. "I do like it, but I can't wear this in front of people."
"Of course you can."
"Why can't I wear something normal? Something that I maybe want to wear?"
"Em, you can always wear what you want-"
"Really?" I asked. "Is that why you always make me change my clothes and wear the clothes you bought me?"
"Just say no from now on," he said.
"You know that won't work."
He sighed, and asked, "Em, what's this really about?"
I threw my hands up. "What do you want from me Faye? You have me move into your home when I hardly knew you. You make me wear whatever you want. I have to sleep in the same bed with you. You kiss me, you flirt with me, you get jealous and possessive and apparently you don't even know how old I am. What do you want from me? "
"I just want you to be there, Em."
"And I have to live with you in order to be there? I called you every night to see if you needed anything and you never did. And I have to wear these clothes to be there for you? I have to share a bed with you? Don't you realize what you're doing to me? You're practically leading me on." My neck was red, blotchy. I didn't want to have this conversation like this
"Is that how you feel about me?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in a line.
"No, Faye, and don't talk to me about how I feel about you. You're the one who should think about how you feel about me. You are toxic, and everyone always says to cut toxic people out of their lives. That's what I really think of you."
"Oh so you're saying you quit and never want to talk to me," he said, equally angry but probably more hurt.
"Oh my god, no. I'm just saying that you need to treat me better. You-"
"How should I treat you better? I give you way more than you ask for, I give you expensive food and clothing, things this job offer, this job that you definitely weren't qualified for anyway."
I was shaking. "What job? If this is a job then you need to start treating me like that's just what it is. And what do you mean I'm not qualified? Why did you hire me?"
"You're a college dropout, this is as good as it's going to get for you," he said, his stare harsh. "Twenty-one-years-old and this job is too good for you, so maybe you should just go on and quit already."
"Oh you are so fucking petty," I said. "I'm twenty-fucking-two and you know it. You're the dumbass that hired me so just fucking fire me already."
"But why do that when I can just use you carelessly because it's obvious I don't care? If you don't want to be here then that's fine. Don't worry, I'll write you a check that'll hold you over until you resort to the only places you're qualified for."
"Oh don't give me any of that shit," I said, my voice shaking. I had a few tears falling down my eyes but not in sadness, just anger. "I'm surprised Emilio or Michael are still in your life anymore. You don't know how to care about people and it's no surprise your family hates you. All the fame and money in the world won't hide the fact that you're a pathetic person. I am so done being another person you manipulate and use for your own selfish pleasure."
"Good, now I don't have to bother with firing you if you're going to be like this."
I stormed out of the building, sobbing once I was alone. It was winter and I was only in the shorts and sweater, having left my coat inside. I was in an alleyway, crying by a dumpster. It was so pathetic. I walked down to the subway station and into a bathroom. We both said some awful things to each other, and I don't think I had ever been in a situation like that. I cared very deeply for Lafayette and there I was being cruel to him. He was being cruel too, but what if he actually didn't care about me? What if he didn't care that I quit? I didn't want to quit, I didn't want any of this. But what if he turned me away if I came crawling back?
I called Mom.
"Hello?" she asked.
"Hi Mom," I replied.
"You okay Em? You sound sad."
I took a deep breath, more tears falling because I just have to cry at everything. "Mom," I groaned.
"Honey, what's wrong?"
"Lafayette and I got in a fight."
She was silent for a minute, and then she said, "A fight?"
"Yeah."
"Over what?"
"Well, I just...it's just all so much Mom. I really care for him and I think he really cares for me too and we have this weird, complicated relationship but we just said some really awful things to each other, like really really awful. I didn't know I could say such hateful things."
"Oh Em, most of the time when people are most hateful it's because they're also very in love," she said. "When your father and I first got together, it was about a year into our relationship and we started to get annoyed of each other and were really mean. People call it the break it or make it part of the relationship and we were so mean to each other until we were able to move on from that."
"I'm not in a relationship with him though," I cried.
"Do you want to be?"
"I mean...yeah but not now but it's just really hard. Neither of us are ready but I don't know if he ever will be and..." I started to cry more. "And I literally just said I quit, which is another problem, like I'm his assistant. I might be his friend too but we're also close but not together but basically together without saying we are."
"You just have to talk to him sweetie," she said.
"But I'm afraid we're gonna fight again or we won't be able to be friends anymore."
"But if you don't talk now then things are just going to go downhill from here."
I sighed, wiping my face. "I know."
"Figure out what you want. Figure out what he wants. Then meet in the middle."
"What if we can't?"
"I know you can."
I sighed again. "Okay."
"Alright? Call me if you need anything."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you, too."
I hung up but didn't immediately go back to the office. I thought about Kenneth and how we had so much stuff planned before he committed suicide. It was so sudden, so out of the blue, but it also really wasn't. It happened quickly though, and ever since then I always knew life was too short to let anything hold you back. Maybe I wasn't going to confess to Lafayette that I wanted to be with him, but I at least had to make up and let him know he was too important to be out of my life.
I took a cab back to the office and upon entering the workroom, Michael and Emilio gave me looks that told me they knew something was up. Lafayette wasn't in his office but there was smashed glass by the bar where he kept his scotch. I took a deep breath and went into the bedroom only to see he wasn't there. I missed him already. I took a shower, changed into my shorts and then one of his t-shirts that smelled like him, and lied down in bed. Normally I could fall asleep at the drop of a hat but I was unable to. I kept checking my phone to see if he messaged me but he didn't. I missed him so much.
I had never in my life gotten into a fight like that before. I had never before said things like that to someone before. Had Lafayette ever said things like that? I said some mean things, and he said some mean things. Were we ever really going to forgive each other? Is this what love is like?
I started to think about how people liked Lafayette and I, and yet we weren't good people. I never had a best friend since Kenneth...I couldn't remember how to be a best friend. Do best friends fight like that? Lafayette hasn't had a friend other than Michael and Emilio, and he said he opens up to me in ways he doesn't with them.
I was hurt, felt bad, and confused. I mean, how could we really become better people?
About an hour later he came into the room. I sat up and we just looked at each other. My body was shaking. What if he told me to get out? When I realized he wasn't going to say anything I said, "I'm sorry."
He walked over to the bed, slowly, and sat on the edge. He put his head onto his hand but wasn't crying. I couldn't tell what he was doing so I crawled over to him. I sat behind him with my legs on either side of him, holding his torso. "I'm sorry, Faye," I whispered.
He shook his head. "You don't have anything to be sorry for," he said.
"I was so awful."
"I was even worse."
"I'm sorry Faye." I leaned my head against his back. "You're not manipulative, pathetic, your family doesn't hate you. Everything I said wasn't true."
"It was though, Em," he said quietly. "I am toxic. I am possessive and jealous and manipulative. Everything I said wasn't true though. You're overqualified for this job and you aren't stupid or ugly or anything that I said. And I know you're not twenty-one. It's okay if you don't want to work here anymore, and I'll write you the best recommendations."
"No," I said, starting to cry. "No, I want to stay. You're my best friend Faye."
He sighed. "I've never met someone like you, Em," he said. He moved so he could turn around and look at me. "The only people I've had in my life that I really care about are Michael, Emilio, Donald, and Vince. They've been there since I was a kid. I've never met someone that I care deeply about who isn't...one of them. I don't know how to be a best friend. I don't know how to not lose you or just be there for you."
"What are you talking about? You have been there for me, like with my aunt or when I have bad dreams. I don't need fancy clothes or food or anything like that. You don't have to buy me things to keep me around."
I put my hand against his cheek. "You can be honest with me. If you don't want me to go out then believe me, I would love to just sit in and watch a movie or something with you. I've never had someone like you in my life, a best friend. Not ever since Kenneth, you know." I shrugged, wiping my cheeks.
"I don't realize the things I'm doing half the time," he said, taking my hand. "I open up to you in ways I can't open up to other people, and I don't think you know how important that is to me. I don't really open up that much at all, not even to my therapist. You can't be my therapist but you listen. When I hired you I just thought you would be an energetic, happy person who could keep me in a good mood. I never thought that I would be so comfortable and open around you. You make me a better person Em, but I feel like I don't make you a better person."
"That's not true Faye. I want to stay here with you. I'll always be there for you, even if I kind of hate you down the road I'll still be there but I know that won't happen. I just...I don't know what we have to do to be good people."
He looked at my face, searching my eyes. "I think being honest is the best thing we can do right now, as a start," he said. "Let me know when I'm doing something you don't like."
"And you can do the same."
A small smile formed on his lips. "You never do anything I don't like Em."
"Surely there's something," I said.
He shrugged. "You hog the blanket sometimes."
"Get another blanket."
He chuckled, squeezing my hand. He kissed it and said, "I really am sorry Emmy. I'm not good at being a normal person."
"Normal is boring anyway." I sighed, rubbing my thumb along his cheek. "I think we both have issues with mental health, but that shouldn't be an excuse for our fuck ups."
He nodded. "You're right. I've never really had a fight like that before, not even with Marcus or my parents. I usually turn stone cold during fights like that. I never...let it all out," he said.
"Well it seems bottling it up is your issue," I said.
"I know. I've known that for a while. I bottle it up so much I explode. It's really hard to change that you know? It shouldn't be, but sometimes changing things about yourself is really hard."
I nodded. "Yeah, it really is. Sometimes I get afraid to let people in, to get too close, like I'll lose them."
He tilted his head, looking at me. "It seems like losing people is a big issue for you. You're always so concerned with death."
I blinked away some tears. "Yeah. I mean...I don't want to lose you."
He squeezed my hand. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "Unless you want me to."
I smiled faintly, and said, "So, in order to avoid this, let's not bottle up our emotions and let's try being honest with each other more. I don't need anything from you."
"And I don't have to be afraid to be open with you," he said.
I smiled. "Good. Talking is a good thing. I guess." I shrugged. "I'm a rambler, not a talker."
He chuckled, sitting up, giving my hand one more squeeze.
I crawled back onto the bed against the pillows. "We should take a nap or something."
He smiled, standing. "I have work to do, but be my guest. I'll turn in early today though."
"Okay...Faye. Wake me up in six hours then."
"Anything for you Em."
________________________________________________________________
The next day I discovered the group of people who knew of Lafayette's sexuality and other secrets. That's all he invited. The people who knew he was bisexual, and most of them knew about his underground business. It was like a club. What happened in the "club" stayed in the "club." They got involved in scandals and were messy people. Mr. Solanzki was there and Mr. Artman, Mr. Rodriguez, Carla - all of his closest clients. And Alisha, who I begged to be invited and Lafayette said okay because I told him she could forever keep a secret.
The fashion at the party was strange. Me wearing shorts in winter was not strange at all compared to those people. Vince and Donald couldn't come but there was one queen there, who looked very casual for a party. A man was wearing a kilt. A woman was wearing a dress of feathers. Another was wearing a dress of balloons and you could easily pop them, but she didn't care. The waiters were wearing black shorts. One guy was wearing swimming trunks but with a dress shirt, tie, and jacket. More importantly, everyone was barefoot. A small pool had been brought in and put up against the wall. Most people sat down in it, leaning against the wall and watching the TV or the view outside. It was a narrow pool but actually comfortable and everyone sat side by side so it was spacious for more. The party was strange, but it was fun.
"Hi Em," Clovis said, coming in from the elevator.
"Hey Clovis," I greeted, surprised to see him there. "I didn't know you were coming."
"I figured I could come by for a while." He read my face and answered my question. "Yes, everyone in the family was invited, but none of them would show up."
"Hey Em, who's your friend?" Alisha asked, slinking her way next to me, eyeing Clovis.
"Uh, Alisha, this is Clovis, Lafayette's brother. Clovis, this is my sister Alisha."
"Nice to meet you," he said, smiling at her.
I decided to leave the two alone as they gave each other sultry looks and strolled through the party. Paparazzi arrived, but it was only TMZ and the New York Times journalist. They took a photo of the outrageously dressed people, including me, along with the fun events, like Mr. Rodrigues falling into the pool or Mr. Solanzki jumping onto a waiter to kiss his cheek. They got a group photo as well, and many of Lafayette. I was kind of excited because I could potentially be on TMZ or in the paper. Lafayette made sure not to leave me alone for too much of the night, so who knows. They left before midnight, though.
Once the ball dropped, everyone shared kisses. Michael and Emilio kissed my cheeks at the same time. Carla came over and planted a kiss on my cheek. Mr. Solanzki took complete advantage of me and kissed me so much we fell into the pool. Then Lafayette came over and hugged me, but I said he could kiss me if he wanted to because if every other pervert was going to then he could. So he did and then Alisha came over and planted a kiss on my cheek, but proceeded to go into the corner and make out with Clovis.
The party lasted all night. Seriously. Everyone cheered when we saw the sun slowly rise. They were all wasted by that time, and Lafayette called them cabs to take them all home, because he wasn't wasted. Maid service came in to do the cleaning, Lafayette helping anyway, and I went into the flat and passed out. After a while, Lafayette entered and fell onto the bed, too.
"Here's to a new year, Em."
"Let's make it an amazing one."
"With you, that'll be easy."
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