Disclaimers: Nope, sorry, can't say there are any. All of the characters are mine. I take full responsibility for all of their actions. Hmm ... On second thought ... I've never seen them before in my life. They just followed me home one day ... really ...
Violence/Sex: No violence, I don't think. I guess that would depend on what you mean by "violence" ... I don't think there is any. You can decide for yourself. And sex? Umm ... I'll go on the safe side and say there will be. But don't go suing me for false advertisement if you can't find any. It really depends on what you mean by sex. As there are people in some cultures that show their affection by licking each other's eyeballs, it is possible that my definition of sex may be different than yours. Mine may involve cows in ballet slippers for instance ... wait, that doesn't sound right ...
Warning: This story involves an in-the closet actress, online relationships, Puerto Ricans, the Spanish language, Starbucks coffee, angels, boyfriends, sexual relationships between women .. and a ton of other random things that poured forth from my artistic loins. If none of the above things interest you, then you may not want to partake in this little tour of my demented psyche.
Dedication: to you and you and you you and you .. to people living with living with ... ::notices there are people watching:: Ahem. Sorry. Too much "RENT" for me. Strike that. There can never be too much RENT. Unless it's the kind you have to pay. But my point.. and I do have one .. is that this story is dedicated to you. Thank you for taking the time to delve into my madness. What a brave soul you are .. muahahaha <coughcough>
Special Thanks: To Amber, Cindy, Camilla, Christy, Amy, and Robin. Thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I don't know what I'd do without you guys.
Write me: Cause I'd love to know what you think. I may be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
"So, are you going to call?" Julianne wondered, from her place on the couch. After a fruitful day of sightseeing, the two of them had returned to the penthouse exhausted from all the walking. Although Adrian had insisted several times that they take a taxi, Julianne felt that such an action would belittle the experience. Besides, it wasn't often that she got to walk outside without instantly being recognized.
After a nice long bath, and a change of clothes, Julianne had retired to the couch, where she now sat with her laptop open on her outstretched legs. She glanced over at Adrian who was busy with his own laptop, typing away at something. They were sharing the couch, but Julianne claimed most of it, forcing Adrian to use the coffee table to rest his legs. "Hello," she called. "Are you going to call her?"
"Call who?" he asked, not pausing in his typing. Blue eyes narrowed deep in concentration at whatever it was he was writing.
Julianne nudged him with her foot, in the hopes that a little physical contact would drag him out of whatever world he now resided in.
"Huh?" Adrian asked, finally looking up.
"Are you going to call that girl whose number you got today?" she asked, spelling it all out for him in order to avoid any more blank stares.
Adrian waved the comment away with his hand and returned to writing. "I think I'll move here with you," he informed her. "New York inspires me. I just started a new screenplay."
"What about the screenplay you started last week?" Julianne asked.
"It will have to wait," Adrian replied. "I'm on fire with this one."
Julianne watched him for a moment, listening to the soothing sound of his fingers on the keypad. When she grew certain that her best friend wasn't going to pay her anymore mind, she returned to the matter at hand.
She currently had three different conversations going with three different people whom she didn't know. The important part however, was that they didn't know her. The one girl from Canada thought that Julianne was a forty-year-old man from Peru. The guy from Maine, though she was a stripper and was offering to pay for her to fly in for a personal show. And the girl from Texas was under the impression that Julianne was a farmer in Alabama.
The internet was so much fun.
"Hey, how much was that drawing?" Julianne asked.
"Like ten dollars," Adrian replied.
Julianne looked up. "That's it?"
"What do you mean 'that's it'? Those were my last ten bucks," he complained. "We're not all millionaires, you know."
Julianne dug into her pocket and withdrew a ten dollar bill. "I thought it would be more expensive," she replied. "You know I don't carry much cash around."
Adrian accepted the money. "Where's my tip?"
Julianne considered. "Alright. Here's a tip. Get off your lazy butt and call that girl."
"Oh, I don't know," Julianne answered. "Maybe because she's probably expecting you to? Has it occurred to you that if she gave you her phone number it's because she wants you to call her?"
Adrian thought about it. "You think?"
"Men," Julianne huffed, returning to her chat.
Adrian withdrew the card with the girl's number on it and flung it at Julianne, hitting her on the forehead. The card bounced off and landed on the keyboard. "Why don't you call her?" Adrian suggested.
"Ha, ha," Julianne responded dryly, removing the card from its location of obstruction. She tossed it back at him. "You're the one who was all boastful about getting her number."
"And get it I did."
Julianne shook her head. "I really don't get you people. You get a number. You call it."
"Why are you making such a big deal about this?" Adrian asked. He turned to study his best friend. "Could it perhaps have to do with the mysterious artist behind the drawing. Hmmm?"
"Please," Julianne said, with a roll of her eyes. "I'm merely looking out for the hearts of young women everywhere."
Adrian nodded. "Right," he agreed. "Much like when you get fan mail. You read it. You reply to it."
"That's completely different," Julianne argued.
"It just is."
Adrian turned to better regard the actress. "I'll make you a deal, Miss High and Mighty. I'll call this number right now," he proposed, holding up the card, "if you agree to read and reply to at least ten fan mails a week."
Julianne considered. "Two."
"Deal," Adrian replied, offering his hand.
They shook on it.
Julianne reached over and handed him the phone. "Start dialing."
* * *
"Why is he gay?" Leigh whined, banging her head against the kitchen table. "He's too hot to be gay."
Kris shrugged. "The hot ones usually are gay. Rupert Everett … Ricky Martin .. Elton John…"
"Ricky Martin is not gay," Leigh argued.
"You keep telling yourself that," Kris said, patting her best friends arm.
Leigh opened her mouth to respond. Then frowned. "Wait a second, Elton John is not hot."
"I'm sure there are people who think so," Kris replied. "And anyway, I couldn't think of any one else."
Leigh sighed, suddenly remembering the original topic. "So how are you handling all of this?"
"There's not much to handle," Kris answered with a shrug. "I don't really get it, but I'm not going to turn my back on him or anything. I just feel bad for the rest of the family. They're not going to give him an easy time of it."
"Sucks," Leigh commented. "They should really give him a break. It's really not the end of he world."
"They're not going to see it that way. Carlos is pissed because he thinks he raised his son to be a sissy. And mom thinks that William is going straight to hell. Dimitri … I don't know. He's probably just scared that his friends will find out and start teasing him about it."
"And William?" Leigh prompted.
Kris frowned. "I don't know…"
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the ringing telephone, which Kris proceeded to pick up. "Yeah?" she said.
"Hi there," a male voice responded. "Remember me? We spoke earlier?"
Kris sent a questioning glance to Leigh. "We did?"
"Yes, you gave me your number."
A pause. "Maybe I have the wrong number."
"Sorry about that."
"Bye." Kris hung up the phone.
"Well?" Leigh asked expectantly.
"Wrong number," Kris explained. "So, anyway, what do you think I should do about William? Should I go see him? Call him? Write him an anonymous letter?"
Leigh laughed. "'Dear William, I'm just writing you an anonymous letter to let you know that I'm totally okay with you being gay…'"
"Okay, maybe I'll give him a call tomorrow," Kris said. "Or do you think I should drop by his apartment? I'm not sure what to say to him though."
Leigh considered. "Well, you could say exactly what you would say to him if you didn't know he was gay. I'm pretty certain the two of you had conversations prior to this announcement."
Kris let out an exasperated sigh. "You're right. I don't know why I'm making this into such a big deal."
"Well, you know, it is a major deal. Now instead of you not knowing what girls he's sleeping with, you'll not know what guys he's sleeping with. Major change in your life. Let me call your shrink."
"Funny," Kris replied. "I'll call him tomorrow. Just to see how he's doing."
Leigh nodded in approval. "Fabulous idea."
* * *
Adrian hung up the phone. "Well, there you go," he told Julianne. "I called. She must've given me a fake number."
Julianne stared at him. "Did it occur to you to ask for her?"
Adrian considered. "Well… no… " He shrugged. "But anyway, the deal was for me to call. There was nowhere in the contract stating I had to actually talk to her."
"You suck," Julianne informed him.
Adrian tossed back the card. "Enjoy your fan mail. I'm going to take a shower."
Julianne watched him walk away, then turned to the business card in her hand. It was white, simple. On the front, it read: "Kris Milano. Original Artwork: paintings, charcoal, oil, & pencil sketches. E-mail: email@example.com." It also had her address and phone number. How very trusting.
She stared at the email address for a while, deciding on a course of action. Just a quick note, she resolved, opening her mailbox. She noted the urgent message from her agent, but ignored it, clicking the 'write mail' button instead.
Subject: your art
Julianne stared at the blinking cursor, unsure of what to write.
Dear Ms. Milano,
I bought a sketch of yours earlier. The figure in the picture reflected so much of how I feel sometimes, that it was as if it had been drawn with me in mind. I wondered if you have a gallery here in New York where I may perhaps view some more of your work?
Julianne paused. Sincerely, whom? She glanced around the apartment in search of a name to finish off the email with. Finally, she decided.
Nobody knew her real last name, anyway. She read over the email, and deciding it was inconspicuous enough, sent it on its way.