Chapter 15 #2
SANTI was stumbling to his desk, furiously rubbing at his eye. “I’ll have you know that the Whispering is a sacred practice,”
he shouted, “one that you are clearly too unenlightened to receive!”
As he pulled his fingers away from his eye, there was something small, slimy, and clear on them.
Shannon recoiled in alarm. “Oh my god,” she gasped, “is that your cornea?”
But then she looked up at his eye and realized that something about SANTI had changed.
Whereas before their unfortunate incident the man had sported heterochromatic eyes, suddenly now he had two mundanely identical brown eyes.
SANTI tried to flick away the color contact lens that he had accidentally rubbed out, but it was too late.
Shannon was already chuckling as she sat back down on the sofa. “So,” she said, “I wonder why the great SANTI would have a
fake green eye.”
SANTI was reddening, turning away from her. “It’s just an aesthetic choice.”
“‘Aesthetic choice,’” Shannon repeated, laughing darkly. “You really are a piece of work, SANTI, if that’s even your name.
You see, I have another theory. It involves a French boy with a green eye and a brown eye. A boy who happens to be the father
of Hyacinth Sun-Bernard’s son.” She leaned forward toward him, her face full of mock concern. “Wow! Imagine if Hyacinth found
out that you had appropriated the memory of her dead childhood sweetheart in order to take advantage of her and her considerable
wealth.”
Exposed as the false prophet he actually was, SANTI could only glare back at Shannon Shoo . . . but like all scammers worth
their mettle, he knew when he had been truly caught.
“SANTI,” Shannon cooed, “you work for me now. Unless you want to lose everything you’ve been carefully planning since the
moment you learned that Hyacinth Sun-Bernard and her fortune was within your slimy grasp. Unless you want to lose all the
legal protections she affords you . . . and unless you want to end up in prison where you belong.”
SANTI was seething, but he also nodded. “What do you want?” he asked.
Shannon Shoo leaned back and propped her feet on his table.
“Everything, obvi!” she giggled, wiggling her big toe at him.
Master Chu! Happy Lunar New Year! Even while outside in her guava orchard next to old Houyi, Roses had to raise her voice over the roar of twenty industrial fans drying out her water-logged home.
At astronomical expense, an emergency construction crew had arrived early in the morning to begin repairs on the appalling damage from last night’s burst pipes. But Roses had nary batted an eyelash.
After all, she had a baby coming, and her home would have to be in perfect condition for him.
Mrs. Sun, Master Chu said, flashing her a toothy grin. Greetings and congratulations from Bhutan! I take it all things in your family are in order for the baby boy’s imminent arrival.
Falling into order, at least, Master Chu. I must confess, I did have doubts about your grandson replacing you, but he has
been a pleasant surprise. Far wiser than his years, and not just in metaphysical affairs.
That said, Mrs. Sun, Master Chu continued, brushy eyebrows raised, I do detect that a former lover has reentered Wayward’s fray.
Yes, I invited his ex-boyfriend Jamaal Golightly to the party last night. This Jamaal is a very good influence on Wayward,
and I really do hope they reconcile. Wayward should not enter parenthood alone if we can help it at all.
Master Chu cleared his throat. Forgive me for my forthrightness, but I do not think that Wayward and that man are an auspicious pairing. I would advise against
any more efforts to bring them together.
But to his surprise, Roses shook her head firmly as she reached up above her to pluck an overly ripe guava. I have asked something profoundly difficult of my nephew. You and I both know of his struggles. He deserves the trustworthy
support of a decent person like Jamaal. And they truly do love each other. Surely that love can sustain them.
Like everyone in Roses’s life, the old fortune teller knew when to kowtow to her will. One can hope, Mrs. Sun, was all he said, unable to disguise the sullen disappointment in his voice. One can hope.
Gingerly sitting in the specimen room of Bel Air Fertility Center, Wayward stared in dismay at a shelf packed full of pornography
DVDs, more than somewhat indignant that they were all for straight men.
He looked down at the plastic cup sitting on the small table in front of him as he tore open the packet of medical-grade lubricant that the nurse had handed to him earlier, annoyed at himself for forgetting to bring his own preferred lube from home.
No doubt this generic Surgilube was going to be tackier than melted gum.
He unzipped his pants and took out his penis, which was no more excited than him to be there. In truth, both his heads were
concerned about the chaos that had dominated the Sun Clan in the last couple weeks. He knew once he deposited his sperm into
this cup and handed it back to the nurse, there would be no turning back. Despite the grand fate of an entire lineage literally
resting in his hands, he could not shake feeling of a prized pig being primed for breeding. Was it any wonder why he was having
trouble rising to this profoundly unromantic occasion?
And most importantly, would he have to go it alone?
Wayward took out his phone and made the call.
Just a few miles away in West Hollywood, Jamaal was rereading the handwritten letter that had been left on his front step,
shaking his head in disbelief. It had wild stuff. In it, Wayward detailed everything he knew so far about what was happening
within his family, and what he faced moving forward. That included Wayward’s theory that someone had tapped all of his family’s
phones, which explained Wayward’s very analog mode of communicating via pen and paper.
But what Jamaal was most intrigued by was Wayward’s plans for Sunfang Global, and how he intended to achieve them. It turns
out that Wayward had not sold his soul like Jamaal had feared. However . . .
Jamaal chuckled to himself. “Wayward, you’ve lost your damn mind instead,” he said, not without some admiration.
The letter ended with a not-so-simple proposition:
J, I understand if this is all too much for you. You never signed up for any of this. But if you are willing to do this with me, just pick up the phone when I call you later today. If not, I wish you the best and I will always love you.
Yours forever,
Wayward
“Yours forever,” Jamaal repeated to himself quietly.
His phone began to ring.
Wayward stared at the outgoing call screen on his phone, his heart pounding. Would Jamaal pick up?
It rang, and rang, and rang. Disheartened, Wayward was about to hang up when . . .
“Well, hey you.” Jamaal’s drawl warmed Wayward’s entire body.
His heart leaping, Wayward nevertheless replied casually. “Hey back. So not only does the masturbation room of this clinic
have terrible lube, it also only provides straight porn. I’m limper than day-old sashimi here.”
Jamaal laughed. “And you thought calling me and riling me up with liberal outrage would get you off instead?”
Wayward chuckled too. “Well, you really are cute when you’re ranting about systemic homophobia.” He glanced down, and sure
enough, he was awakening just at the sound and thought of Jamaal. “By the way, it’s working, whatever you’re doing.”
“Still got it!” Jamaal replied cheerily, his sexy Southern accent coming out. Then Wayward could hear him sigh. “Our problem
was never mutual attraction, Wayward. We need to have some tough conversations if we’re going to do this again.”
“You’re right of course, J,” Wayward sighed. “But what if . . .?”
“What if?”
“What if we could just fast-forward, past all the awkwardness, and just time-jump to a point when we’re good again . . .? Together again?”
“You really do like instant gratification, don’t you?”
“Always on-brand.”
“It’s not that easy, Wayward. It’s going to take us doing the hard work, step by step. And you would need to be sober.”
“If you took each step with me,” Wayward said, “I think I could do it.” He cleared his throat. “You know I’m not great at
being vulnerable, J . . .”
Jamaal snorted. “No, do tell.”
Wayward took a deep breath. “I couldn’t say it back then, but I can say it now. You were, you are, you will always be the
love of my life, Jamaal Golightly. I can’t think of anyone else I want to take this next step with. To get clean and to start
a family.”
There was a silence on the other line. Wayward waited. He knew that whatever Jamaal decided would be a decision on everything
that his letter had detailed, not just what they could say over the phone.
“Well, let’s get started,” Jamaal finally replied, and his voice was thick with emotion. “Let’s make a baby.”
Wayward smiled so big that Jamaal could hear it when he spoke. “Not just any baby. Our baby.”
“Yes. Our baby,” Jamaal said. “Now grab that terrible lube and imagine me behind you, my arms around you, slowly unbuttoning
your shirt while grinding against that firm ass of yours. You gonna give it to me, boy?”
“Yes,” Wayward gasped, instantly so aroused he was practically panting.
With that, Wayward Sun and Jamaal Golightly delivered three hundred million lucky possibilities of a new life together unto
Bel Air Fertility Clinic. Straight porn be damned!