Take Me

Chapter Ten: Brunch

Five days of nothing passed since Kaz left Milo at the restaurant with two orders of surf and turf. He was beginning to think this was an emerging pattern among them. They would begin with a spark of something, then a whole lot of nothing. They couldn't even explore the possibilities. All of their interactions were stolen moments and interrupted dinners. As relationships went, this was edging toward the land of Not Worth It. Too complicated. Too overwhelming. Too . . .

He sighed the instant Kaz’s face materialized in his mind. That man. Those lips. Words weren’t adequate to describe him. Not anymore anyway. He was more fantasy than reality in Milo’s life.

His relationship with Tommy on the other hand . . . well, strained would be the best word to describe it. More his doing than this friend’s. After the revelation from Kaz that Tommy liked him, it was all Milo could think about. Was it true? Surely not?

Tommy was a player. He had a lover in every country he visited for shoots. He had slept with every male model signed to his agency. Manwhore was a subtle description of what he was. He even switched to girls when he felt like he needed a “palate cleanser” as he called them. That alone was proof he didn’t see Milo as more than a friend. Yet Kaz spoke so matter-of-factly that Milo couldn’t let go of the nagging feeling that he might be telling the truth.

Mentally shaking his head, he admonished himself for his lack of focus on the most important issue: Brunch with his mother. She was the only woman alive who could bring his ballbuster of a father to his knees.

On this beautiful first day of March, he sat across from her in a well-lit, classy café across the street from Straus Park.

Stella von Stein sliced primly into a grape. A f*****g grape. The tines of her fork and the edge of her knife didn’t make contact with the porcelain. Then, as if it was the juiciest piece of porterhouse steak, she brought half the fruit to her mouth and chewed. Seven times, like her mother had taught her, before swallowing. A f*****g grape. Milo swallowed. He knew exactly what was going on, but he refused to confirm it by speaking.

He figured he had until she polished off her fruit platter before it was considered polite to make a run for it. From the way she was cutting up the already sliced fruit into even smaller bite-sized pieces, this was going to take a while. Held hostage by his own mother. Having Kaz torment him for hours with his tongue, making him beg for release was a far preferable scenario.

Normally she was all smiles and sunshine. It was his own fault she sent icicles his way. She hadn’t said a word since he had arrived other than a curt greeting and ordering food. It made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He already knew what this was about.

The fact that she was prolonging the inevitable was the torture portion of the inquisition. But instead of a black robe and a white wig, his inquisitor preferred a white Prada day dress paired with Gucci pumps and heirloom pearls. Her perfume smelled of money, the classic Chanel No. 5. Its cloying Upper East Side scent wafted across the table to him.

Since it was the weekend, she let her hair down around her slim shoulders instead of the usual tight twist. The cascading stands made it hard to believe she had a son in his twenties. The supermodel in her prevailed. She put women half her age to shame.

The irony of Milo’s current location wasn’t lost on him either when his waffles and slices of Canadian bacon arrived. He sat in a café across from a park dedicated to a woman who refused to save herself as the Titanic sank so she could stay with her beloved husband onboard. He was going straight to hell.

The papers had been merciless. He practically predicted the headlines down to the letter. Adding Tommy to the mix just stoked the fire even more. And it seemed Kaz was hiding the fact that he was some big shot businessman, not just some importer and exporter.

Sakura Industries was responsible for the shipping and handling of a majority of goods coming from East Asia into the whole of North and South America. The pictures of the three of them in all the papers was mortifying, especially the one with his ass in the air right as Kaz turned around to face Tommy.

Not willing to break the frigid silence, Milo drenched his plate with maple syrup. Then, fork and knife in hand, he cut a square out of his waffle, topped it with bacon, and skewered the stack. Taking care not to drip on his blazer and shirt, he brought the first bite to his lips.

“I had lunch with Cassandra yesterday.”

Dropping the fork, he pushed the plate away. Here it was. The end.

“Stella, you have to believe me when I say what happened at the Hugo Boss show wasn’t my fault.”

That was when she finally met his gaze with the same rich hazel irises he possessed. “You’re not going to eat anymore?”

“I’m suddenly not very hungry.” He took a swig from his glass of cucumber water and rose petals.

“Milo von Stein-McLaren! I will not tolerate rudeness in my presence. I would like to think I raised you better than that.”

She did. She actually did. All the guilt in the world congregated in his gut.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I really am.” He wasn’t so sure if he was apologizing for being rude or for everything that had happened.

Stella returned to her fruit platter.

“As I was saying,” she said after swallowing a tangerine segment. “I had lunch with Cassandra yesterday and she filled me in.”

He slumped back in his chair, no longer concerned about proper posture. A tension headache stirred at his temples.

“What did she say?”

“That you’ve been distracted.” She slanted a glance his way when she slammed her point home. “That your work has been suffering because of it. Not to mention that debacle at the Hugo Boss show, dragging Tommy into it. Thank goodness we managed to play it off as a publicity stunt since all of you were wearing suits from that brand as the pictures were taken.”

“That’s not what happened!” Like an out of body experience, he saw how disrespectful he was being to his mother by raising his voice, but he couldn’t help it.

“Milo!” she gasped as if he’d stabbed her. “You know it doesn’t matter to me who you fall in love with, but there is a proper place for these things. Having that man carry you out of the show like that with all those photographers? What were you thinking?”

He shifted, exchanging one crossed leg for another. “It all happened so fast. And who said anything about being in love? Kaz . . . Mr. Yukifumi got it in his head that . . .”

Milo huffed, unable to properly explain himself. What the hell could he say? That Kaz had this personal claim on him and Milo’s interaction with Tommy while he walked the runway triggered some jealous impulsivity in the man?

“First of all, I’m not angry because you’re with a man. After what Celeste did—” She bit her lower lip to stop herself. Then she breathed in deep and exhaled slowly. She forced a smile. “I’m happy that you’re moving on. But do you have to make a spectacle of yourself while doing it? Being on page six isn’t good for your career, you’ve got to know that. And let’s not even speak about what your father thinks. He is not happy, Milo.”

All the hope of a relationship with Kaz? Gone. Shriveled up like a raisin in the sun.

“You’re right.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. She had to mention his father. “I should have known better. I should have been more careful. It’s just . . .” He took a deep breath of his own. “Finding out about Celeste being engaged on the same night she’d dumped me pushed me to make impulsive decisions. I lost focus.”

Stella reached across the table and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze only mothers knew how to give. “Milo, you know that I love you and only want what’s best for you. I’m sorry that you had to find out about Celeste that way. And I’m sorry that it drove you to become vulnerable. I wish I could take all the pain away, baby, I really do.”

The corners of his eyes stung. “I loved her so much. She was my world. And now she’s someone else’s.” He had lived with that truth for weeks and it didn’t hurt any less. “Then there’s Kaz . . .” It didn’t seem appropriate to stay formal when tears were about to win over his best efforts to keep them in. “There’s something about him that makes me feel again. After a whole year of hopelessness, he excites me. He says I’m his but I don’t know what that means exactly. We have these moments where I think I’m going to die just by being near him and then he disappears for long stretches and I’m left doubting if any of it was real.”

A small smile softened her features when she let go of his hand to brush away his distress with the pad of her thumb. “Reminds me of your father and—”

His raised eyebrow cuts her off, but not for long.

“You should have seen us dance around each other. He had his business and I was flying around the world for photo shoots and shows. I considered it a miracle if we saw each other for more than a few hours a month.” Then she sighed, shivers running up and down her body. "Oh, but those hours were the hottest—"

“Mom!” The image of his parents getting it on dried up the tears faster than a lake during drought season.

She threw her head back and laughed—a magical, melodic sound that never failed to put him at ease. “Oh, Milo, don’t be such a prude. You wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for one of those few hours between me and your father.”

His heart spasmed at witnessing the fierce love that showed on her face. For some reason, their relationship worked despite the distance between them. Could the same be said for him and Kaz? Did he dare hope again?

“But this is different.” He spoke the truth that needed to be said.

“How could it be?” She became serious again. “As long as you’re being smart about it there’s nothing wrong with loving him.”

“You keep saying 'love' like it's already a foregone conclusion.”

Stella brought her linen napkin to the corners of her mouth and dabbed. “You crazy boy. You’re forgetting who raised you. Unlike Tommy who screws his way around, you’re the monogamous type. You don’t entertain a relationship with just anyone. How many people have you been with in your life?”

He swallowed. She got him there.

***

Milo staggered into the apartment.

Brunch with Stella sapped all his energy. She gave him a stern warning about maintaining his reputation and being careful. He sat there like a seven-year-old again being scolded for messing with a can of hairspray and a lighter.

He dropped his keys into the hollowed out belly of a ceramic naked woman by the door. Tommy had brought the bowl home from Thailand. Sighing, his shoulders slumped forward, weighted down by all the emotions roiling in him. He had to make a decision about Kaz.

To continue or not to continue? That was the question.

“Milo?” Tommy called from somewhere inside the apartment. “That you?”

“My mother is an exhausting woman,” he said as he sauntered into the living room to find his friend in one of those intentionally ripped T-shirts that cost hundreds of dollars and well-worn jeans. Good lord, no wonder the camera loved him.

Tommy stood behind the kitchen counter where boxes of Chinese food were spread out. He handed Milo a margarita which he took a grateful gulp from, tilting his head up and closing his eyes.

"She made a fruit platter last three f*****g hours. I thought I'd never get out of there without committing a murder-suicide."

“That bad, huh?”

“She made me go through every detail of this thing with Kaz. Who does that? I don’t even know if it’s something worth pursuing. It’s like so many people are involved.”

Milo left out his mother’s lunch with Cassandra. Those two always teamed up against him. Tommy would put too much meaning into it and would surely worry more than he already did. Milo couldn’t have that. Not now. Not ever. He was fine. He could deal.

Then it hit him. This was the first time in days that he wasn’t awkward around Tommy. Huh. Maybe he was just being paranoid. His friend wasn’t acting any differently.

“If you’re worried about the tabloids—”

“Don’t remind me.” Milo mock shuddered. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this mess.”

“Hey, nothing a little General Foo’s, more margaritas, a movie, and—”

“Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream?” he interrupted, hopeful.

Tommy nodded, treating him to a megawatt smile that put every A-list actor to shame. Milo sagged into one of the barstools.

“Thank God for best friends.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“What’s the movie?” Milo asked as he shoved an entire egg roll into his mouth and chewed merrily, feeling a hundred times better than when he had arrived.

All was right in the world. He didn’t have to decide on what to do with Kaz right that second. For now, he could enjoy the company of his best friend before the whirlwind that was Paris Fashion Week.

“I got the feeling you might be bloodthirsty after brunch with the queen bee, so I got Battle Royale.”

“A movie where delinquent teens are placed on an island and forced to kill each other until only one survives?” His eyebrows shot up. “You know me too well.”

“The appropriate response is ‘thank you, Tommy. You're my savior. Your s****l prowess is unrivaled and I will worship you for the rest of my days.'"

He choked on his margarita and laughed, swiping at a stream dribbling down his chin. “Make me a couple more of these and I’ll consider sucking your d**k in gratitude.”

“That’s more like it.”