September 22nd, 2003

ledbetter tat

The silent apology

“Do you really want to go?” I asked Billy when I came home from work that night, half hoping he’d say no, but I knew better. I knew he would be all over it.

“Sure! Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, you don’t Ed.” I explained a little of what we were in for, and with a shrug and a grunt, he said, “Let’s do it!”

When Ed invited us to spend the weekend at his home in the Hamptons with his lover, Tony, we knew it wasn’t going to be an ideal way of seeing the land of Daisy and Jay but it was a way of getting out of the city for the weekend and exploring a new and fabled realm. Ed was a celebrity publicist who had done a magnificent job for me in helping Without You, I’m Nothing become an off-Broadway hit. Emotionally over-wrought and a victim of plastic surgery giving him a Zsa Zsa mask, Ed was prone to relentless flirting and given to bouts of cruel petulance when things didn’t go his way. He also bragged about fucking Keith Hernandez. Repeatedly. I smelled trouble.

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