Legen of a Face God 5
Chapter 5
Valentine just broke up with Morocco. The room is looking at Valentine in the shittiest way. Valentine is a manly man. It's clear just by looking at him. Now here Morocco was putting this man down in front of everyone. I'm not surprised when Valentine breaks up with him. I'm not surprised when I see tears in Valentine's eyes.
People are laughing at him over what Morocco told him. Morocco put Valentine's financials on blast! Valentine looks like he can't stick around at that moment. He starts leaving almost immediately. I don't blame him.
This is Morocco's fault but of course, he will never acknowledge it. Valentine did confront Morocco about him doing drag. He didn't do it in a loud or abrasive way. Morocco was the one who was getting loud and abrasive as usual...
That's what Morocco was good at. He was good at getting loud and abrasive. He was good at embarrassing people he was supposed to love and protect.
"You happy?" Morocco asks me.
He looks me dead in my eyes as though it was my plan. He thinks I set this all up to hurt him which just isn't the truth. I was on the phone with Valentine when I was going through Morocco's stuff. I just so happened to mention something about the drag clothing I found.
How was I supposed to know Morocco was keeping secrets from his boyfriend?
"Whatever man," I respond.
Morocco was trying to face off with me at that moment. I have no doubt he's just looking for another argument. That's what he does. He doesn't even give a damn about the fact that Valentine is running out of the building at that moment.
So I start chasing him.
As soon as I get in the kitchen I'm stopped by Laurence.
"Where are you going?"
"After Valentine."
He looks me up and down at that moment, "Haven't you done enough?"
"Excuse me?"
"You're starting trouble Israel," he tells me.
I can almost laugh at the fact that Laurence is confronting me in the hallway of the building right now. Morocco embarrasses the fuck out of his own boyfriend and now I'm the one to blame because my brother doesn't know how to keep his fucking mouth shut and respect his relationship? I have no doubt that my brother put Laurence up to this.
"Laurence----Valentine is clearly hurt right now. I don't see anyone else chasing after him to make sure that he is ok."
"Your loyalty is with your brother..." Laurence responds.
"No---your loyalty is with my brother," I respond almost immediately.
Laurence takes a few steps forward attempting to get in my face, "Don't beat around the bush with your smart ass comments Israel say what you got to say."
"Look I'm not trying to accuse you of anything so I'm just going to ask you. Do you and my brother have something going on?" I ask.
Laurence looks at me with a strange look in the hallway. He's eyeing me down. The look on his face says it all. He doesn't know how to respond to my question. Maybe he straight up just doesn't want to respond to my question. Maybe I caught him off guard. You would think I asked this man to name me every country in the world by how long he's taking to answer.
His answer lacks substance, "I don't think that's none of your business..."
"So why are you trying to protect his feelings by lying to him about us sleeping together?" I ask
Laurence looks confused, "Um...what are you talking about. We did sleep together..."
Fuck.
I thought Israel was making that up to save my brother's feelings from getting hurt. I thought he was trying to make sure my brother wasn't hurt by Valentine cheating on him. Clearly I was wrong. Laurence seems sure of this but I'm standing there completely in shock.
I know I had sex with Valentine that night. Could I have gotten so fucked up that I ended up sleeping with Laurence before I slept with Valentine?
Fuck.
"I got to go," I tell him.
"Wait! Israel! Wait you don't remember do you? Israel!" He's screaming behind me.
I'm avoiding him like the plague. It's clear that if I keep talking to Laurence I may just fuck around and reveal something that I don't want to reveal. I decide my best option was to take my chances running after Valentine.
"I know you're following me..." I hear him say.
I have been following Valentine for blocks. I've literally followed him on a bus and got off at the same stop as him. The whole time I'm sitting there thinking about what I want to say to him. I want to know if there is a way to make him feel better after Morocco's verbal lashing. Instead like an idiot I'm just following him staring at the back of his head. I'm staring at Valentine's strong muscular neck. His dreadlocks are tied up in a bun over his head. They are dyed brown with blonde tips. I'm staring at his buttery brown skin. In certain lights Valentine's high yellow complexion reveals slight freckles. I think the freckles are so fucking sexy in the most unique way.
I stare at him like a little puppy and now that we've gotten off to the bus, I'm just looking at him amazed by how beautiful he is.
"I was worried about you," I tell him.
"I'll be fine. You should get back to your apartment. Your brother is probably worried about you," Valentine tells me.
I repeat the same emphasis as him, "I'll be fine."
I stand out on the block. Clearly he doesn't want me following him. It's getting late and I should probably head back but truth is Morocco is probably heated still. I'm scared to go back to the house. Not to mention the whole thing with Laurence wanting to question me. I want his interest to subside a little bit before I go back to that house. I have no idea what I should do.
I look down at my phone thinking about calling Mother Naomi but that apartment she stayed in...it was beyond ratchet...
"You just going to stand out on the street corner?" he asks me from almost a block away.
I look around. There are some grimy looking guys around this part of Philly. I am kind of stuck. I don't have too many options here.
"I'll figure something out. I can't go back. Morocco blames me for your argument. I know how my brother is."
By the look of concern that comes on Valentine's face he knows how my brother is too. Morocco can be spiteful when he wanted to be. He wasn't the nicest person and he offered no apologies for his behavior.
"Come on..."
"You sure."
"Hurry up man," Valentine offers, "It's fuckin' freezin' outchea..."
Valentine's apartment is the same way I remember it from that night. It looks beautiful and clean. It looks kind of expensive. I would understand how it could be natural for someone to get behind on their bills and maybe even ask their boyfriend for financial help. It is clear that Valentine never assumed that it would come to bite him in the ass later on.
As we walk in the apartment Valentine is quiet. He isn't saying much. He goes to the room almost immediately and he's in there so long that I assume he's completely forgotten about me. However after about 10 minutes he comes back out. He has a pillow and blanket in his hand. He sits them on the couch at that moment. He's still quiet. It's clear he must have a lot on his mind.
"Thank you," I tell him looking at the pillow and the blanket.
"These are mine. You can take the bed."
"Are you sure?" I ask.
Valentine shrugs, "Listen. I'm a gentleman. You are a guest. I don't have a guest room. So you can take the bed. I don't mind. I'll sleep on the couch homie."
He's beyond a gentleman in my eyes. He's so fucking sweet. I get up and look at the bedroom door. I watch him as he takes off his shirt and shoes. He throws it over the shoulder of the couch. He lays down on the couch. He looks so sexy there. His jeans are slightly open. His arms stretch out behind his head. His crotch points upwards towards the sky and one leg is slightly raised. He doesn't see me staring at him. His eyes are closed. He doesn't look like he's in a good mood. Clearly, he just broke up with his boyfriend. Maybe that's the reason I feel like I need to at least make sure he's ok.
"You're a gentleman aren't you," I say attempting to make small talk, "Your parents raised you right I bet..."
Valentine shakes his head, "I'm very much a gentleman. But my parents didn't teach me that. The streets taught me the values I have."
I move closer to him and sit on the couch adjacent to the one he's on.
"Are your parents around."
"I'm not in the mood right now man...hard night if you haven't noticed," he states.
He's throwing me off. I can tell I'm being a little annoying. He did just break up with his boyfriend. I need to stop being in the fucking way. It's nice enough that he's even letting me stay here in the fucking first place.
"My bad," I say getting up.
I don't get far though. Valentine clears his throat and stops me.
"Wait...it's not fair to you. You asked a question. The least I can do is answer it. My parents are not around. Not my birth parents anyway. I was raised more or less by my house. I was raised by Father Body Cavalli. Sex siren is the category of who's the sexiest man on stage. Father Cavalli taught me how to be sexy."
"He did a good job," I say.
I wonder if he takes it as flirting. If he does take me as flirting he doesn't respond immediately. Instead he just smiles a little bit at me and continues talking.
"Sex siren isn't just about walking on a stage with a hot body, a cute face and some small underwear. The sex siren category for me has always been about swagger, pride and confidence. In life, Father Body taught me how to be a gentleman. That's the sexiest thing you can have..."
"Those are all lessons I completely lack in," I respond, "No swagger, no pride, no confidence..."
"You're the most beautiful man I ever met in my life man, bullshit," Valentine states.
"You think so?" I ask.
My heart is racing so fucking fast at this moment.
Valentine backpedals like a madman at that moment, "I mean. You look just like your brother."
"Is that the only reason you just said that?" I ask.
Valentine is avoiding eye contact with me, "Well you're his twin. You know. And he is my boyfriend...so..."
He's stating facts as though I don't know these things. What Valentine fails to understand is that when I look in his face and look in his eyes I don't give a fuck about these things? Morocco plain and simple doesn't deserve someone like Valentine. He just doesn't.
I correct Valentine on one thing quickly, "Your ex you mean."
Valentine sighs. It's a deep sigh. He's hurt. It's clear he's still hurt.
"Fuck...yeah. I suppose. He is my ex isn't he?" Valentine asks.
"You tell me," I respond, "Why do you let him treat you like that? I mean...clearly you are attracted to him. You think he is the most beautiful man in the world...right? Is that all that defines beauty to you. What's on the outside?"
"You have these deep conversations," Valentine states, "All these probing questions. You're not your brother are you? I mean Morocco's not a bad person. It's just I'm not used to someone who looks like Morocco not being bossy, not always talking about business, not getting into arguments and not putting down gay people..."
"I'm not him."
Valentine bites onto his lower lip. Finally he makes eye contact. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Does he see me? Or does he just see a reflection of my brother?
"I don't even look like him completely. If you take a closer look. Can I get closer? Here take a closer look. See that we aren't even 100% identical."
I walk to the couch he's sitting on. I stand there over him. My body shadows the couch he's sitting on. He sits up on the couch. I'm standing in front of his thighs. I look down. He looks up. There is this heavy tension.
He laughs, "C`mon you two are identical."
"Look closer. You don't see any differences."
"Besides the fact that you're easy to talk to and you don't act like a bitch----no...no differences."
"Here. Let me get all the way close," I say.
I lean down at that moment. I'm in his face. I'm between his legs. I'm crouched down face to face with him. I'm inches away. I can feel his breath on the slim hairs where my mustache never grows in. His eyes are shadowing me up and down. He's looking for something.
"Your eyes are...a little lighter," he finally states.
"Is that is?" I respond.
I take his hand at that moment. I outline the side of my jaw with his fingers. I outline my chin. I outline my nose. I outline the symmetrical shape of my face. I let his fingers draw on every bone and contour on my face at that moment. He seems nervous. For the first time I feel ... powerful. And it's not me being like Morocco. I don't have to talk. No I'm making Valentine nervous. I notice soft droplets of sweat on his forehead as he does it. He's looking at me. He's looking at my face. He's studying my lips. He's allowing me to guide his fingers around my face.
And he's giving in to me.
"Your skin is smooth...less pores. Your brother wears make up sometimes to make his skin look as clear as yours," he responds, "Your jawline is more contoured. Wait...what are you doing? Are you selling me face right now?"
I realize how I was using his hands to frame my face. Maybe I was doing what Naomi taught me. Maybe I was doing what I saw in all the videos that he showed me. Hell. I really was serving face.
I shrug, "Maybe. Is it all 10s?"
"All 10s," he laughs, "Like I said...you're the most beautiful man in the world."
"You didn't say one of the most beautiful men in the world. Me and my brother are different people...so who's more beautiful Valentine?" I ask him.
Sweat beads start to form on his forehead at a faster pace...
The room is filled with complete silence, as he struggles for an answer.
Valentine switches the topic, "Look man. You guys are identical twins. Stop being silly. You are getting confident with this face thing man. There is a ball coming up. One of the biggest balls of the Year. It's in New York. You should come with me and see it in person."
He's changing the subject. I've made him too nervous.
"Just me and you?" I ask.
I'm between Valentine's legs. He must have dropped his guard. I don't know how I've gotten so close to him. All of a sudden I'm pressing my fingers between his thighs. The warmness of his thighs sends shivers down my spine. His crotch is so warm. Valentine looks down at his crotch. Within seconds I can see how hard his dick has gotten in his jeans.
"Yo man what are you doing...?" Valentine asks.
"This..."
I do it. I lean over and I kiss him. I allow my tongue to explore his mouth. At first Valentine isn't kissing me back. But he isn't stopping me. I find myself climbing onto his lap. I sit my ass right on his lap. I put my hands around his head. We are kissing deeply now. He's kissing me back. There is a passion there that I cannot explain. His tongue enters my mouth with passion and desire. He leans into me forcefully but tenderly at the same time.
After a second of me being the aggressor, he becomes the aggressor. He grabs me by my ass while I'm sitting on his lap. His tongue ravishes my mouth. He is kissing me deeply shoving his tongue down my throat.
"Mhmm..." I'm moaning.
His tongue is going deeper and deeper. I am panting underneath him. Soon I realize he is picking me up. He stands up with me in his arms and lays me on the couch. He comes over me with his tongue still in my mouth. I roll my hands down Valentine's chest and rock hard abs. I roll my hands into his underwear.
Hard...wet...precum is dripping from his dick. My hands are covered with his precum as my hands reach deeper into his pants.
"Wait...wait we got to stop..." he states.
He doesn't want to. He's still kissing me.
"You want me. You know you want this as much I fucking do."
"That's not the point!" Valentine states.
Valentine is off of me already. He literally throws himself off of me and stands on the other side of the room. We are both panting really hard. My dick is hard. My underwear is dripping with precum. My asshole is wet for Valentine. I'm not a bottom like Morocco. I want ALL of Valentine. I want to fuck him. I want him to fuck me. And I know he wants the same. I can see it in his eyes. The chemistry between us is more than just sex.
"Please don't just...stop like that," I respond, "I'm putting myself out there right now. I'm...vulnerable..."
"And you think I'm not?" He responds.
He turns around and shows me how hard I've made him. His dick is so hard that it is poking out of his underwear and lying flat on his lower abs. It's pressed up against his stomach by his tight underwear.
"I can't get you out of my head..." I admit to him, "I know you think its because you were the first person I had sex with. But that's not it. I just found out I had sex with Laurence right before you."
Fuck. The slip just comes out before I realize what I'm saying.
Valentine raises an eyebrow, "Wait what?"
"I'm not into Laurence like that---it was a mistake."
Valentine shakes his head, "Listen. I don't want to have this conversation. I'm a little emotional. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I need time. I don't need to be fucking his twin brother. No matter how much I want to. No matter...how much..."
He's hesitating.
"How much what?"
"How much we click. And how little effort I put in being around you compared to being around Morocco. It's not right. This---it's not right. Goodnight Israel."
"Valentine."
"Goodnight Israel," he repeats.
The Roseland Ball in New York is this weekend. I'm lucky that I get an invitation from Mother Naomi to come because I am still a little scared to head back to Morocco's place. I'm even happier when I realize that we aren't going to a bum hotel. I watch as Mother Naomi swipes a credit card at the front of a fancy hotel in New York.
She's gotten a few suites for the members of Balmain and she has me in a room in the suite right next to hers.
"Is this legal?" I ask.
I'm in my room. There are a few people in there with me. It blows my mind that people think the Balmains are rowdy or evil. Getting to know them they actually seem like pretty cool people. I'm sitting next to Chaos Balmain. He's known as an overseer in the house. He's legendary in the categories of realness and sex siren. I still don't quite understand the realness category. I guess for guys they want to see how masculine you are and for female figures they want to see how feminine you are. It kind of doesn't make sense to me how you can tell that just by someone walking down a runway. I can see Chaos as a sex siren though. He's sexy in his own way. He reminds you of those real hood type strippers that you might find in a hole in the wall somewhere. The type real ghetto, ratchet bottoms would love. That just means he kind of helps make decisions for the ballroom scene. He helps decide who should walk and really is just a second to Mother Naomi.
"The hotel, Girl this is a stunt," Yvonne Balmain replies.
Yvonne Balmain is a drag queen. She walks runway. She has a strong face...very strong face. By strong I mean she isn't the prettiest thing in the world. She is a little muscular to be a drag queen as well. I try not to judge her though because she's been really welcoming to me. I mean honestly they all have.
Yvonne isn't the only one in the room. Cha Cha Balmain and Little Tony Balmain are also there with me. Cha Cha is a fem queen. By fem queen I assume that she is shady smart mouthed transgender who actually lives her life as a female. She is a Latin bombshell really. She has this really cute look on her. She walks a category called realness but she likes to remind everyone that she'll be walking face as soon as she gets her teeth fixed. I guess face is one of the big categories and it's obvious by how Little Tony Balmain just literally follows me around commenting about how handsome I am. Little Tony vogues. He's one of the many voguers in the house of Balmain. I honestly met so many that I can't name them all. For some reason the people who walk runway and vogue seem to click up together but Little Tony has been following me around since I met him on the long drive to New York.
"What's a stunt?" I ask.
"You don't know what a stunt is?" Cha Cha Balmain asks me, "Boy don't ever lose that little face of yours..."
"He could never be ugly," Tony states staring at me.
"Cha Cha...lay off of him," Chaos replies, "Tony control your goddam hormones. Yvonne go get your make up kit. I need you to do Israel's face for tonight.
Chaos is so busy barking orders that his last order kind of goes right past my head.
"Wait what?" I ask.
I stop him mid-sentence. I don't know what he's talking about.
"Naomi didn't tell you?" Chaos asks me.
"Tell me what?"
Chaos and Yvonne seem like the senior members of the house.
"You're walking tonight..."
All of a sudden my heart drops.
I spend the next couple of hours just straight up nervous. I'm beyond nervous. I'm not ready for this. I mean I walked before but I didn't remember that shit. My heart sinks into my stomach. Even after Yvonne paints my face with makeup and makes me look almost flawless I still feel insecure. Cha Cha is the seamstress in the house. She had an outfit made for me already. It's nothing fitted. It's this Egyptian shawl looking thing. I don't know why I have to wear that. I feel naked in it but Chaos keeps using a weird phrase saying, "That's what the category calls for."
Before I realize it I'm at the Roseland ball. My heart is beating. I have a jacket over my Egyptian robe. I'm so fucking nervous. I feel like shit because I'm so nervous.
Hours seem to pass before the ball even starts.
The first category are voguers. The dancers take the stage and luckily it seems to be dozens of them going up there.
"You need to stop stressing," Naomi Balmain says.
Its hours into the ball before I see her. She's late as fuck. I'd been sitting with Chaos this entire time and Chaos isn't the type that you really tell your problems to. Naomi is looking dead in my face. She looks beautiful. She's dressed in a white gown. It's Egyptian themed.
"You didn't tell me I was walking tonight. I just came to watch," I tell her.
By this time the runway people are going up. I can't even pay attention to the other categories. The other Balmains are at a table with me. They are chanting something. This place is crowded. It wasn't like the first ball I went to. People are paying attention to almost everyone that dares to step onto that runway. This place has to have hundreds of people in this ballroom. There are tables around the runway for the houses and there are spectators in the back as well.
"You'll be fine. It's open to all face. What that means is that we can walk up as a house. You and me. Mother and son," Naomi responds looking at me.
She grabs onto my hand. A part of me feels secure. Naomi is a legend. No one would disrespect her.
"What if I get chopped?" I ask her.
"You won't get chopped. Have you seen your face?" Naomi asks me.
A chop would be my worst fear.
I'm not believing her, "I don't know. What if they don't like me? What if they chop me? In front of hundreds of fucking people. Do you have any of that...juice...?"
"The kid wants some syrup?" Chaos asks me all of a sudden, "I got some."
Naomi pulls me away at that moment, "Chaos no. He doesn't need it."
"It'll help ease his nerves," Chaos replies.
Naomi gives him a strong look, "Chaos I'm not going to tell you again. I didn't bring him into this house to get hooked on that shit. He doesn't fucking need it. Do you see this face right here Chaos?"
Chaos looks at me, "He's...everything..."
He looks me up and down. He licks his lips. I don't know if he's doing this because he honestly thinks I'm attractive of if he's just being a house member and helping to boost my ego. I don't feel good. I feel...insecure.
"They can't deny you. They are fair judges today. Tony Louboutin, Hollywood Vuitton, Valentine Cavalli... they are all fair judges."
"Wait...Valentine Cavalli?"
I look up on the stage. It is him. I spent so much time worried that I didn't even notice what was going on in the actual ball. Valentine is on the stage. He's a judge. He's on the stage with a bunch of other people. Maybe eight other judges are up there with him but Valentine is one of them. I realize that Valentine is looking my way. He has spotted me. Our eyes make a connection and immediately I feel some type of relief.
Valentine believed in me.
"You're glowing," Naomi notices, "Do you know him?"
"He dated my brother..."
"The one who needs to get fucked up?" Chaos asks.
I look at Chaos, "Wait...hold up now. That's my brother at the end of the day."
"Your brother attacked our house mother," Chaos argued.
Naomi grabs my hand, "They just called for the Open to all face category. All that bullshit is in the past. Isn't it Chaos."
Chaos doesn't answer for a while. He looks pissed, "Man I guess..."
"Let's focus on winning this category...you ready Israel?" she asks me.
"Israel Balmain..." I correct her.
Naomi smiles. She holds my hand. My heart is racing. This is the moment of truth. This is the moment that I would remember for the rest of my life.
I wasn't a normal anymore. Naomi was pulling me up to the stage with her. She was almost giving me her power. She was sharing her spotlight with me. She held my hand as we walked to the back of the runway. Photographers were on the sideline. I see the photos snap. For a moment I think I am somebody. For a moment I am transported.
I feel like a star. I feel like people are looking at me. It's a bigger venue. People seem to recognize Naomi.
"Oh WERK!" The commentator gets on the mic and announces us, "Look who it is. The LEGENDARY NAOMI---OMI---KNOW ME! KNOW ME WELL!"
I look to my right hand side.
Naomi is holding my hand but she isn't walking. She is just standing there. When I take a step forward I realize that she isn't moving. She is leaving it to me.
She leans over and whispers in my ear, "You don't need me. It's your moment to walk into the sunlight. It's your moment to STORM."
The word raises something in me.
Yeah I can feel it... it raises the storm in me.
That is just what I am about to do I am about to STORM this stage.
I watch Chaos walk up to the commentator. He whispers something in the commentator's ear. He must be telling the commentator who I am.
Storm.
The commentator raises his eyebrow.
"Roseland Ballroom. I'd like you to welcome to the stage...Naomi's handpicked PRODIGY! Is he selling face? Do you see his carta! WELCOME TO THE STAGE. Israel...Balmain!"
Storm.
I'm walking. I'm walking. My head is laid back. My hands are serving up my face. I look directly at the judges. I smile. I tilt my head back. I stand in the middle of the runway. I pose for a minute. I let them soak it in.
I lower myself squatting on the runway...posing as if I was sitting on a fucking throne.
The entire runway ERUPTS.
Storm.
The noise is something I don't expect. I turn behind me and notice Naomi and the other Balmains. They have gathered at the end of the runway. They are clapping. They are getting life off of me. The cameras are flashing. The lights are going off and on. The life I'm getting is something I've never experienced before. People like me...no...people love me.
The Balmains have found a flag to rally under besides Naomi. They are living for me.
"Bitch where's my TENS?" they chant, "That B-A-L-M-A-I-N"
Bitch where's my tens?
Bitch where's my tens?
Storm.
I bring it to the front for the judges. 1 person holds up the sign for tens. 2 people let me through. 6 people let me through. Everyone is smiling with me. Everyone is loving with me. 7 people let me through.
1 more...1 more.
"1 CHOP!" The commentator says, "From Valentine Balmain. Sorry Israel---he doesn't see it. Come back next year. Who's next?"
My heart drops. I'm dreaming. This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening. Not to me. Not in my moment. Not in the only moment that I ever had to be special.
I look over at Valentine. Why are tears welling up in my eyes when I look at him? I'm so emotional. It's just a ball. I'm not really a celebrity. This is all some underground bullshit but this meant the world to me. And he knew that. He knew how much this meant.
Why would Valentine chop me?
Then I turn. I see him. I see who Valentine's looking at. He's looking off the stage. My brother is there almost feeding Valentine his queues. Morocco is on the other side of the stage and Morocco is smiling...
To read the next chapter in advance go to www.crushedcrown.com