The Manhattanites: Unscrupulous Part 3

Using an alias proved vital when Taddy traveled with Lex. Lex Easton was a famed rock-n-roll star's daughter turned fashion designer. Taddy had experienced her all-too-public lifestyle as teenagers. Since she was also in the spotlight, she found herself booked at the St. Regis and Exhale Bliss Spa under the code name Red.

In Monte Carlo, she booked under Marie Red, in London Lady Red, in Las Vegas Lucky Red and so on. OK! magazine and In Touch Weekly sure as h.e.l.l didn't need to know about her a.n.a.l bleaching business. She preferred to remain behind the scenes and let the reporters focus on her clients. Not her. However, for some reason, Taddy always found herself front and center of attention.

"Kiki, you'll see in my personal folder, my travel policy on making reservations under the name Red." She smiled. "Tell me about Algarve. The tidbit I've heard is Portuguese footballer Joo Moutinho lives there."

"So..."

"Joo plays for the F.C. Porto team."

"Sooo." Kiki was clueless.

"A drop-dead delicious European version to my va-jay-jay-idol Brayden Brooks." She turned the picture frame to face Kiki. "If I can't have Brayden this holiday, I might be able to have Joo." Taddy wondered if Kiki's DJ cyber buddy knew Joo.

"I better get to my desk and get started on these reservations, Miss Brill." She excused herself.

Au revoir, South of France. Ola, Portugal.

Taddy was delighted to learn that Kiki's on-again, off-again cyber relationship with DJ Dejon had progressed from chat rooms to web videos. Dejon had facilitated securing Taddy and Lex the presidential suite at the city's five-star hotel.

They were booked under Senhora Red.

Elated, Taddy gifted Kiki with a bonus-an appointment with Dr. Hugo Fa.s.senbender to get her b.r.e.a.s.t.s augmented. New cleavage proved the least she could do. Although Taddy's came from Mother Nature, she identified with a girl's desire to have a power set, especially since she'd learned Kiki had wanted a pair. She often referred Dr. Fa.s.senbender at her leisure.

Aside from being the best breast doctor in town, Dr. Fa.s.senbender hailed from Berlin. His patients raved about the precision of his surgical incisions, which rarely scarred. According to the salesgirls at Bergdorf Goodman who sold him his leather accessories, he was also a Dom in the BDSM community. She hoped Hugo would help put Kiki in touch with her s.e.xuality. Maybe tying the Utah virgin up and giving her a good whipping would be asking for the kitchen sink, but new b.r.e.a.s.t.s? Those her black American Express card made doable.

With Taddy's and Lex's schedules booked, seat a.s.signments ticketed and hotel reservations made, everything was confirmed jet-set-fabulous for New Year's Eve in Algarve.

Until Lex's mother Birdie Easton did her usual.

Chapter Three.

Banging Birdie December 21 Upper East Side, New York, NY Getting laid ranked high on Taddy's New Year's resolutions. She also wished for a tighter a.s.s, but that was farther down on her agenda. The solution for both was found in another hot man, not her cosmetic surgeon, Dr. Fa.s.senbender, but Gilad Oseary, owner of Gilad's Pilates Studio. Burnt out on lip-gloss marketing for the day, she treated Lex and Vive to an early evening workout. Blake had declined, saying gays didn't do Pilates. Taddy, however, was determined not to gain an ounce over the holidays.

Gilad, you are flippin' s.e.xy. His arms flexed thicker than his legs. Gilad's legs stood more solid than his sculpted chest. And his chest sported a T-shirt two sizes too tight for his body. It revealed his muscular pecs. In his mid-twenties, Gilad had emigrated from somewhere in the Middle East. Fluent in French, he claimed to be Persian, perhaps from Iran. Wherever he came from, his militant style to push clients' bodies from flab to fab was o.r.g.a.s.mic. Or at least Taddy thought so.

"Ladies, let's pull into our lower body and focus." With no shame, Gilad directed his view between Taddy's legs.

I need s.e.x. Please, Gilad. You're making love to me with your demands and those eyes staring right through my body...

"Good girl, Taddy." He grinned as if reading her mind. She arched her heel and slipped it into the strap.

"Like this?"

"Ahuh." He nodded.

"And this?" She split her legs wide.

His jaw dropped.

"It burns. My muscles are tight-so tense," Taddy flirted. She pressed her back into the Pilates board, the rubber bands snapped in the air, her legs stretched out.

"Put your energy into your core, ladies. Come on, let's do this."

Taddy's energy was on his core, caressing her core. She went into a helicopter position and twisted her legs up. Her focus wasn't on her body but his as she stared at his c.o.c.k. Either he'd grown hard or wore a cup. Lips licked, he studied her face with encouragement to continue. "I want you, Gilad," she whispered.

"Lex!" Gilad shouted over Taddy's station. That broke her soon-to-be workout climax.

"Huh?" Lex mumbled behind her.

"Why aren't you following along?" In a p.i.s.sed-off stance, Gilad stalked over to her.

Taddy took her eyes off Gilad-l.u.s.ting and glanced in Lex's direction.

Not flexed, her best wasn't paying any attention. Perhaps in another world, Lex's face spoke worry. It wasn't over the exercise. h.e.l.l, when Lex was a kid she'd struggled with her weight. Now in her late twenties Lex made fitness her focus. The woman could teach Pilates if she so desired. She didn't. Lex lived and breathed fashion. Her Easton Essentials apparel business was a hit, thus her funk wasn't over haute couture. "What is Lex's problem?" Taddy mouthed to Vive.

Not condoning exercise, Vive sipped on her happy hour, aka a gin and tonic. Between gulps, she coated her nails in Baden Cosmetics' popular toe lacquer, Gold j.i.z.z. Arching her eyebrow, she motioned with her lips, "I dunno. But somethin' is up." Vive slid her nail file along her left wrist in a mock suicide. With Lex always came drama.

After the fifty-minute session, Taddy walked over to Gilad while Lex pulled herself together. Vive waited at the door with her second c.o.c.ktail in hand.

"Do you give private home lessons?" The erotic man-smell from his body made her clench her thighs together.

"Yes. Why?"

"Gilad, I need you."

"Now?"

"Tonight, when I get home from a party." Screw me pah-lease.

"My rates double for after hours."

"I bet they do." Taddy hoped he wasn't flirting with her just for her riches. She didn't pay for s.e.x. Not blatantly at least. Tonight she'd be sure to find out exactly if Gilad's intentions went beyond Pilates. "Let's not let a little thing called money stand between us. I like to think large. Very large."

Gilad stepped close to Taddy. "Me too." Ever so slightly, he grazed his hardness against her stomach. The body contact and the implied suggestion sent a chill up her spine. She didn't jump back-rather leaned in close to him.

"Taddy, let's go," Lex snapped. In a call for her attention, she clapped her hands.

"One sec, darling." Taddy shot Vive a look to rein in their moody friend.

He turned his back to the rest of the girls and faced Taddy more intimately. "I'm free after ten." Gilad adjusted himself, grinned and asked, "Shall I come by your penthouse, Miss Brill, for a home lesson then?"

"Yes." Taddy winked and slipped him her card with the details on the back. "Here's my address."

"Can't wait."

"I'll tell my butler to expect you."

"h.e.l.lo, I'm out of here," Lex blurted extra b.i.t.c.hily. She waved her goodbyes to Gilad and pushed on the front door.

Taddy followed Vive, who walked a few feet behind Lex, one block over to Juice Press on Third Avenue and East Sixty-Second Street for their liquid dinner. They didn't talk. Once they received their shakes and sat at a cafe table, Taddy asked, "Lex, is there anything you wanna tell us?"

Vive leaned in closer.

"Mom's sick." Lex's mother, Birdie Easton, widow to heavy metal icon Eddie Easton who also found fame in '82 when she hit platinum with her own two chart toppers "Am I Wicked" and "Lucifer's Mistress", always carried on just a little sicker than the norm.

"Say what?"

"Mom diagnosed herself with Stevens-Johnson syndrome, a fatal skin condition."

"What do you mean diagnosed herself?" Vive spoke as if they were slated for a feature in Debauchery magazine.

"Mom researched her symptoms online." Lex pulled a few papers out of her gym tote. She gave them to Vive to inspect.

"WebDoctorMD and DiseasePedia are not credible." Vive's journalistic eye skimmed the papers. "And the symptoms state patients with the disease show a hideous rash triggered by infected facial tissue. If that were true Birdie's face would blister." She pa.s.sed the doc.u.ments over to Taddy who read on.

"I saw Birdie a week ago. She looked like her usual rock-star self," Taddy muttered, convinced Birdie bathed in formaldehyde to maintain her youth. Lex's mother might be a whack and frail but she was still gorgeous.

Taddy dropped the papers on the table. "This journal cites excessive cocaine use as a possible cause." Birdie's decade-long partying in the '80s with drugs proved enough to swing Taddy's convictions from "no way in h.e.l.l" to "not really" as she considered what she'd read. It couldn't be possible. "Birdie is a bit of a hypochondriac." And a full-blown loon. Taddy shook her head and sipped her Acai Extreme Energy smoothie. She struggled to demonstrate any sympathy. Her empathy-feeling days for the Eastons were long past. This had to be bulls.h.i.t.

"Mom hasn't been the same since Dad died." Embarra.s.sment washed Lex's face.

"No kiddin'."

"Birdie dove headfirst into the cra-cra pool, breaking her skull wide open eons prior to Eddie killing himself." Vive snorted and rolled her eyes.

"I know, I know." Lex's eyebrows furrowed. "The unauthorized biography on Mom really did her in."

"Ya think?"

The book, t.i.tled Banging Birdie, was penned as a Kitty Kelley-styled tell-all slammer. True to all faults, the 506 pages depicted the Birdie Easton scandals. A legend in her own right, Birdie had become infamous amongst the music community for sleeping with over one thousand men. Although Birdie swore she never kept count.

Music magazine deemed the glossy, hardcover New York Times number-one bestseller contentious and far-fetched. The book gave insights into Birdie's mothering skills on Lex's abusive childhood. The chapter t.i.tled "A Modern Rock-N-Roll Rapunzel" detailed weekends locked in the Park Avenue penthouse. Another chapter, "Big Apple's Sweet Virgin", narrated Birdie's OCD over Lex maintaining her virginity.

Those who couldn't do-taught. And Birdie couldn't help but be promiscuous. She projected the reverse s.e.xual appet.i.te onto her daughter. Possibly in hopes Lex wouldn't follow in her footsteps with endless c.o.c.k cravings.

When Lex gained weight, Birdie starved her daughter. That chapter was t.i.tled "Alexandra the Great". Reporters blew the book off as being off-the-charts crazy. Taddy recognized Banging Birdie as one hundred percent accurate.

"Mom's obsessed with finding something fatally wrong." Lex stirred her straw in her protein shake. "She wants to die."

"This is another Birdie scam. If she wants to kick it, she can borrow my pistol from my '97 vintage Fendi Baguette anytime she likes." Taddy remembered, in addition to Birdie being a manic drug addict and unfit parent, she thrived on kleptomania. "Maybe I should leave my gun out on the kitchen counter for her to steal."

Lex's green eyes filled with tears. She pulled out her cell phone and held a picture up. "I snapped a photo this morning of Mom's skin. I emailed it to Dr. Fa.s.senbender. We're waiting to see what he thinks."

No. Stunned, Taddy almost knocked her organic smoothie on the floor. Mrs. Tomato Face stared back at her. Birdie's cheeks, nose and forehead suggested Freddy Krueger. "Holy s.h.i.t." She inhaled panic through her nose and covered her mouth. Birdie's face was Hamburger Helper. "Lex, please don't cry. We're here for you...and Birdie too." Suddenly Taddy felt horrible for the Fendi joke.

Vive tapped her Cartier. "Let's walk over to Birdie's before we go to Bradley Cooper's premiere. It's down in Soho. I'll call us a car and they can pick us up at your mom's." She wasn't convinced either. Vive apparently wanted to see the disease with her own eyes.

"Sorry, I'm not up for a party." Lex crossed her arms. "Mom's convinced she's on her deathbed. She's even managing her own funeral arrangements."

"Get out of here." Taddy had heard enough. She'd march over to Birdie's house before the movie and see what's what. Bradley Cooper could wait.

"Yup, a nice cemetery lot next to Dad at the Calvary Cemetery in Queens. Mom called Lita Ford and Joan Jett and asked if they'd give the eulogies." Distraught, Lex put the papers back in her tote.

Sick to her stomach, Taddy threw her unfinished replacement meal shake in the trash.

"I'm going to your mother's house to pay my respects," Vive said in Lex's direction then turned her head with a wink in Taddy's. She was ready for a Birdie shakedown. No one could decipher malarkey better than a gossip columnist, and Vive was the best at her field.

Sure enough, later that night when Taddy arrived with Vive at Birdie's condo, Helga the housekeeper greeted them with a cold shoulder and said, "Lady Easton is asleep. Lady Easton asks not to be disturbed under any circ.u.mstance. Lady Easton is sick."

"Who the h.e.l.l is Lady Easton?" Taddy asked.

"Birdie shall ring you tomorrow," Helga responded and went to slam the door but Taddy stuck her foot out. The door swung wide open.

"Helga, we must see Birdie, now!" Taddy pushed her way in and headed for the bedroom. Vive walked behind her and slowed her pace when they came to Birdie's bedroom. In unison, they poked their heads in to witness a sight worse than what Lex had captured with her camera.

"Poor Birdie," Vive gasped.

Eyes closed, Birdie was snoring on her back. Her swollen face appeared raw and tender. On the TV screen by her bed played a video.

"What is Birdie watching?" Vive stepped in closer.

"Eh?" Taddy felt as if she'd just been hit with a baseball bat. Instinctively she reached for Vive's hand for balance. A quick swallow and deep inhale, she pushed the lump that was coming up in her throat back down. "It's Lex's tenth birthday party."

"This is so sad." Vive seemed to better understand Birdie's condition.

On the screen, Birdie and Eddie sang happy birthday set to a rock-n-roll melody. Taddy noticed herself in the video with her own parents. Countess Irma and Joseph Graf sat at a table clapping along, out of rhythm. She'd forgotten what it looked like to see everyone happy, especially herself. "All Lex wanted that year was for Eddie to be home and spend time with her."

"Did he?"

"No." It pained her to think about it. "Eddie came for the party. It was good press for their family." Taddy kept her voice low. She noticed in the video how Lex clung to her father, afraid to let him go.

"G.o.d, Eddie was such a beautiful man."

"Such a waste." It angered Taddy to think about how he'd neglected his family.

"Those are your folks, right?" Vive squinted at the TV and then back to Taddy.

"Yup." Taddy suddenly felt sick. She couldn't stand looking at her parents.