Not So Model Home - By David James Page 0,44

as a surprise. I’ve never seen you around Ian’s before.”

Touché, Drake. He was trying to see whose idea it was to drop Darryn as a bombshell on Things Are a Bit Iffy.

“I was in the middle of the Armani men’s show. It was a little sudden, but I thought it would be interesting, so here I am.”

I was right. Darryn was smart. Good looking. In shape. Well mannered. Just the kind of guy to win this contest. And the type to get killed. His appearance on the program affected the other guys profoundly. Aurora had pretty much ended the texting and video-game playing with a single comment. Manners were tidied up for the same reason. But it didn’t take long for the guys to slip into their old routines, and the chemistry of the group, I suspect, was designed for maximum hissy fits. But Darryn changed the rules of the game in under a minute. The guys at the table were out-handsomed, out-mannered, and outsmarted. What to do? What to do?

CHAPTER 18

The Hottest Memorial Service of the Season

Funerals and memorial services. Most people dread them. The cast, however, was preparing for Keith’s as a red-carpet event. Suits from Europe were arriving daily, made from previous measurements held at couturiers’ headquarters in Paris, London, and Milan. Personal makeup artists swarmed Ian’s house, mixing with the ones hired by the production company. And the reason for all this: This funeral was going to be filmed as part of the show. Like the carousel spinning out of control in Strangers on a Train, the show had taken on a life and power of its own. We had succumbed to its powers, and it made us do things we never would have considered. And we had to look good while doing it. But before you think that all I was going to do was lob stones at the others, I, too, was getting dolled up for the affair. Look at me . . . calling a memorial service an affair. I might have come under the spell of the show, but I intended to call a spade a spade.

Rows of chairs were set up in front of a raised platform with a podium on Ian’s expansive grounds. There were speakers, a sound system, engineers, and banks of lighting. And all of this for us? Hardly. Yes, there were going to be all the usual luminaries from the haute couture hair world, but everyone was gearing for the possibility that Ellen DeGeneres might put in an appearance as a show of support for Ian and loss of the son he didn’t knew he had. While I knew Ellen was very supportive of gay causes, I felt the rumor concerning her appearance was just that—a rumor. The reality was, no one really cared about Keith, or more accurately, fewer even knew him. They were there for Ian. And the cameras. Not necessarily in that order.

Jeremy pulled us all together before attending the service and instructed us to reach down inside ourselves and try to bring up emotions.

“I want tears, sadness, empathy!”

He might as well have been asking the guys to operate a large hadron collider.

“Remember, the cameras will be on you at all times. The show’s ratings are going through the ceiling, and today is another episode that is going to push it out of this world. After the memorial, we’re going to assemble at a local restaurant and we’re going to turn up the heat. I want to hear what you’re feeling, and I want you to really let the fur fly! Okay, get out there and make this show a smash!” he said like a football coach at a deciding season game.

The cast filed out to the cameras and lights, filtering down toward the front to their reserved seats between members of the Mitchell and Sassoon hair dynasties and models, models, models. There was the shaking of hands, hugs, laughter, and to top the whole circus off, trays of drinks floated up and down the aisle propelled by waiters in tight black suits. There’s nothing like liquor for throwing gasoline on the fire. There was a signal from the podium and we were all advised to take our seats by the master of ceremonies. I won’t bore you with all the details of the service, but since almost no one invited knew Keith, the eulogies were centered on Ian (for his loss, presumably), which caused him to erupt in frequent outpourings of tears that