24. Peter Has Brunch With Veronica and Drag Queens
At La Luna we both get the chilaquiles—red for me and green for her—and a sort of “make your own mimosas” set-up with an entire bottle of champagne and a carafe of orange juice.
There are indeed drag queens, and they run the gamut from completely outrageous to exquisitely beautiful. Veronica does selfies with me and several of the queens. Our favorite is named Bang Me Soon, or something like that. She’s so gorgeous I’d swear she was AI, except this is real life and she also has the correct number of fingers. I counted, just in case.
Over starters of elote and guac, I fill Veronica in with the most recent developments between me and Kit.
She shakes her head and shoves a loaded-down tortilla chip into her mouth. When she’s done chewing, she takes a large gulp of mimosa then says, “Typical you. Thinking with your dick.”
“No. It’s not like that. Well, okay, it kinda was at first, when he got down on his knees, but—”
Veronica makes a move like she’s drawing a zipper across her mouth. “Zip it. Save the gross details. On a scale of one to ten, how’s the sex?”
“Eleven.”
She nods. “That sounds pretty decent. Not your record, though.”
“My record is held by a psychopath. I had to get a restraining order before she finally went away.”
“I told you not to stick your dick in crazy. Not that you ever listen. See also the situation you’re in now. Your stepfather is going to lose his shit when he finds out you’re fucking his son.”
“Let him,” I grumble.
Veronica’s eyes get comically wide and she leans away from me like I’ve caught something nasty that catching. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
“Fuck you. I don’t go along with everything Dad tells me to do.”
She puts the back of her hand against my forehead, searching for fever, I guess. “Yes, you do. When was the last time you defied him?”
I close my eyes and think about it. I don’t want to admit she’s right but I can’t think of anything. “It’ll come to me later,” I say sulkily.
Veronica rolls her eyes but has the grace not to gloat at me. “So why now?”
“He always said, over and over, how Kit hated him and us, how he’d made violent threats about my mother and me, and how he had Dad buy every single thing a boy could want, including a horse and a Masersti.”
“Who buys a Masersti for their teenager?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t my stepfather. Kit never received a horse or a Masersti. His first car was a Mercedes sedan—”
“Poor rich boy. My heart bleeds.”
“Oh, stop it. For your sixteenth your parents employed a driver so you wouldn’t have to do it.”
“Getting me a driver was sensible.” Veronica stabs her fork viciously into her eggs. “If your dad got Kristoff a Mercedes instead of a Masers then that was just smart.”
“No, that’s the thing. Kit bought himself that car with his own money. Dad didn’t give him a dime. And that was year we couldn’t go to Disney because Dad had spent it all on Kristoff. I remember him telling me that we could pay the mortgage or for the trip, but not both, and did I want to see Mickey or did I want my nice bedroom and all the toys in it? He made me choose and I was just a little kid for shit’s sake.”
“You’re sure Kristoff’s not lying about the car and horse?”
I drained my Mimosa flute then made myself another. “He looked too shocked, so I don’t think he was lying. That Dad had bought him a horse or sports car was news to him.”
“Hmm. So now you’re wondering what else your dad was lying about?”
“Sorta, but not really. I think it’s safe to say he lied about everything, or most of it.”
“I always thought Baldwin was a big asshole, so this is not really a surprise to me,” Veronica says, taking a delicate bite of rice mixed with beans. “But I never thought you would believe anything bad about Baldwin in a million years. That is some grade-A dick right there.”
Kit does have a grade-A dick but I won’t wax on poetically or anything about it. Veronica hates when I do that, but beyond that, I feel both protective and possessive of Kit. He’s mine, and that means that among other things, his well-being is my responsibility. He’d hate me describing anything that personal about him to another person every bit as much as Veronica would hate hearing it.
Instead I say, “Kit’s special. He’s more than—I mean, he’s… It’s hard to put into words. But like bigger—”
“Bigger?” Veronica says, her nose wrinkled. “That’s way more than I—”
“Not that kind of bigger, for fuck’s sake. I mean like important. Like I said, he’s special. He’s important like you, or my mom. He’s… necessary.”
Veronica stares at me, her mouth slightly agape.
“What?” I ask.
She collects herself. “Nothing. Tell me about him.”
“He’s brilliant, for one thing. And he can do four things at once without fucking up any of them. I always thought I was so smart and capable, but next to him, I’m maybe average. He’s funny, too. In that way that people with fucked up childhoods can be, you know? He feels things so deeply and he’s this big bag of neuroses and past trauma, but he’s also got these cats that he named after Shakespeare characters that he adores and his living room is like the library from Beauty And the Beast. I think he’s read all those books, too. Or most of them. And he’s lonely. Definitely an introvert, all self-contained and shit, but lonely. And lost. Which doesn’t make sense, really, because I swear he knows… everything. At least at work, anyway. Throw any problem at him and he’s got three solutions already thought out. He’s never at a loss. I mean he can come off as cranky, or short and impatient sometimes. It puts people off, but I think he could get better at that. Maybe. I think it’s hard for him to always know he’s the smartest person in the room. Half the time he’s frustrated people can’t keep up and the other half he feels like he’s apart from everyone, which he kinda is. And for some reason he’s decided that I’m the person he can trust. It should be nuts, and I guess he is a little self-destructive, but he’s mine now and no one gets to mess with him—except me.”
Veronica blinks at me. “That’s a lot to process.”
I run my fork through the egg yolk and salsa on my plate. “Tell me about it.”
“Do you love him?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just obsessed with him.”
“And you’re not worried about what your stepfather will do when he sees you’ve switched sides and are literally sleeping with the enemy?”
The answer is yes and no. “Kinda. But I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep Kit safe and away from my stepfather. No, fuck that. I’m just calling him Baldwin. He raised me, doing his best to brainwash me into being a good little soldier. He’s been lying to me my entire life. I’m not his stepson—I’m just a chess piece he can move around however he wants.
“You know what happens when chess pieces are used for sacrifice, right?” Veronica asks.
“I don’t care. If Kit wants me, I’m his. Friend, lover, soldier—you name it.”
“And if he doesn’t?” she asks with her brows raised.
A feeling like sharp but icy pain pierced me. I want to say that I’d take my mother and we’d both leave Baldwin and Minola. I have a good business degree and MBA. I’ll find a way to support us. I’ll find a way to get insurance coverage for my mom. We’ll be okay. But… “I won’t let Kit go without a fight. I don’t think anyone has ever fought for him and but I will. I’ll be his Percival.”
“Who?”
“One of the knights loyal to King Arthur.”
“Oh.” Veronica gives that some thought. “Was he the one who had the affair with Arthur’s wife?”
“Guinevere? No, I’m pretty sure that was Lancelot. Percival wouldn’t have betrayed his king like that.”
“Hmm. Did Percival screw around with Arthur?”
That makes me laugh. “Probably not, but who knows. Maybe. Or Arthur was fucking Merlin. Or maybe his sister.”
“That’s messed up. I glad I never had to read that one.”
“It was less interesting than it sounds. Enough about me and my fucked up life. How are you?”
Veronica gives me a disgusted look. “One: nice subject change. Two: I’m fine and my life is dull. Three: are you in love with Kristoff? Because if you are, good for you, but I’m going to miss you escorting me to parties. You’re my favorite person to be catty with.”
“Maybe you’ll get two escorts,” I say. “Kit’s way cattier than me. When properly motivated he can make grown men cry with a few cutting remarks. I’m more likely to just punch someone I don’t know in the face.”
“Fair,” Veronica says, nodding seriously. “Okay, I want to meet this guy so I can see for myself that he’s good enough for my best friend.”
“Great,” I say sarcastically. “I can’t wait to introduce the two of you. Remind me to take earplugs with me.”
In the middle of her laugh, my phone rings and I see it’s Baldwin. I’m tempted to ignore it, but I’ll need to have a conversation with him sooner or later.
“Hello?”
“Your mother wants a divorce. Did you put her up to this?”
“What? No. She never said anything to me about it.” I wonder if this is true. I’ll have to find out from her what’s really going on. “But it’s none of my business. She’s the one married to you, not me.”
“Watch your tone, boy. I will cut you off without one red cent.”
Like I haven’t heard that a million times. “I can find a job on my own. I can take of mom, too.” And find her the best divorce lawyer in the area, I think.
“Then you can pay me back for all the money your school cost. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”
For fuck’s sake. I realize how happy I’ll be no longer having Baldwin in my life. When Kit is CEO of Minola, I know his first order of business will be to toss Baldwin out the window, unfortunately with his golden parachute of a severance package.
“It doesn’t matter what you’ll tolerate or you won’t.” A flash of evil humor hits me and I add, “You’re not my real dad.”
Across from me, Veronica silently claps her hands in glee.
“Are you high?” Baldwin asks. “Have you and your mother gone insane?”
I think it’s the opposite, actually. We’re finally thinking clearly. “No. Not high, not crazy. Just done.”
Baldwin swears in a combination of English and Italian. It’s always been strange to me how he can switch from sounding like an ordinary guy with no particular accent to someone who sounds like they’ve lived their entire life in Italy.
“If that’s all you have to say, I’m going to go. Goodbye, Baldwin.”
“Wait!” he shouts. “Don’t hang up. Listen, boy, I need your help and I can make it worth your while. I need to speak to your assistant. He has my number blocked, the ungrateful child.”
I can barely believe what I’m hearing. “You mean Kit? Fuck no. No way. Absolutely not.”
“I’ll pay for that medicine of your mother’s,” Baldwin says in a rush. “But only if you get him to call me.” His voice changes to a greasy, insinuating tone that makes me feel disgusting just listening it. “When did you give Kristoff a pet name? Just how close have you two gotten? Did that little pervert seduce you? He’s done it before. When he was in school he nearly ruined the good name of a very important family because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. Has he gotten that far with you? Have you let him fuck you? You’re just as disgusting as he is.”
I want to both laugh at the sheer absurdity and also vomit. “Does it really matter?”
“Of course it does,” Baldwin bellows. I have to hold the phone away from my ear it’s so loud. “Don’t be stupid. Run away and go back to that girl you’re seeing. Don’t let that… person… ruin your life. Is he really that good a lay? His mother was like that.”
Even though he can’t see me I shake my head. This conversation is insane. “Just why do you hate him so much, anyway? What did he ever do to you?”
“He was born ,” Baldwin says with utter loathing.
I’m debating just hanging up on Baldwin when my phone notifies me that another call is coming through. I don’t recognize the number but a telemarketing scam would be an improvement over this conversation.
“I have another call to take. Have a good life, Baldwin. I home you die alone.” I click over to the other call, cutting Baldwin off mid-swear. “Hello?”
“Peter? It’s Mom. I had to borrow someone’s phone to call you because I forgot mine at home. There was an… incident.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins. “What kind of incident? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m fine, hon. Just a little shaken up.”
Relief washes through me. “Thank god. What happened?”
“That’s… Angelica says I shouldn’t say anything over the phone. We’re at Lake Forest Hospital and we’ll meet you in the main lobby.”
The ice is back. “I thought you said you were okay.” And who’s Angelica? But I can figure that out later.
“I’m fine, sweetheart, but Kristoff was admitted. We came with him in the ambulance.”
“Kristoff? But why? How? What happened?” I can’t lose Kristoff. I just got him. The universe wouldn’t dare to be that colossally unfair. “How’s Kit?”
“The nurse said he’s in stable condition. They might be able to release him tomorrow.”
Oh thank fuck. I feel poised on the edge of breaking down into sobs. It’s the craziest thing.
“What happened, Mom?”
“Not over the phone. Get here and we can tell you everything.” I can indistinctly hear someone speaking in the background. “Tell you almost everything,” Mom amends. “Can you come?”
“I’m on my way.”
“I’ll drive,” Veronica says, standing up. I see she’s thrown cash on the table. Probably far too much, but she’s like Kit when it comes to money. It’s just a tool to get what she needs, and it’s a tool that works in nearly every situation.
“You don’t drive, remember? Because I do.”
She flaps her hand at me. “It was one measly accident.”
It was the first and last time I ever let her drive me anywhere. She’d gotten a concussion and I broke my arm in the crash. “I need to get to the hospital, not die in the attempt.”
Veronica sighs and takes my hand, leading me out of the restaurant. Idling at the curb is a silver Bentley. A uniformed driver hustles out and opens the door for us.
Once we’re buckled into the back seat, he asks, “Do you have the address for me, Miss Veronica?”
"Lake Forest Hospital. It's on 41."
“Yes, Miss. We’ll be there in approximately thirty-five minutes,” he says.
“That’s great, thanks.” Veronica then turn to me. “Okay, talk.”
I tell her what little I know and she frowns. "That seems super mysterious and if we were talking about anyone besides your Mom, shady as hell. Good thing you brought me along.
"I just need Kit to be okay."
"He will be. You just need to have faith."
"Veronica, you're an atheist for fuck's sake."
She gives me big, serious eyes. "I may not have faith in a higher power, but I do have faith in modern medicine."
I lean against hers. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"I have no idea, either."