Chapter Twenty-five

From the Sunday Vanguard, January 20, 2002:

T. O. Phoenix gets trapped in a sex scandal:

For a very long time, a lot of speculation has been rife pertaining to whether the stunningly beautiful actor who had dazzled fans across the continent is gay. It was all speculation due to the young man’s very unusual good looks and feminine gender presentation, but there was of course no real evidence to shed light on this.

However, after the Christmas holidays, Mr. Ali Hassan, the pet snake trainer who’d loaned his huge pets to Ethnicity Studios for use in the movies that brought the young actor into international limelight, has come forward and told the Vanguard that the beautiful young actor had tried to seduce him several times.

‘We had worked together before he came into the movies, and he was always making sexual advances at me,’ Ali said during the course of the interview. ‘And not only at me－ he made advances to several other men during the time of his glory days as an exotic dancer in a club.’

Henry trembled with fury as he read the offensive article. A ferocious, barely leashed fury boiled within him, and then he folded the newspaper and flung the thing out through the window. He was furious beyond all words, and the fact that somebody had dared to try ruin the reputation of the guy drove him wild with fury. He loved Phoenix, and there was this hope at the back of his mind that one day, the guy may come to love him back. And now, with this, it would be really impossible for the guy to love him back because of what they were saying about him.

‘So, what do you think of it?’ Richard Oke asked.

With his hands thrust angrily into his pockets, he turned to his best friend with a look that was akin to hatred. ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’ he asked intensely, his eyes roving over the other man’s face with eyes like a hawk’s.

‘Sure, of course I am. I had always said that the bastard should go to the dogs. You should never have gotten yourself involved in him, though I admit that he’s made it big. But what that man is accusing him of is really big and can cook him. You know that, don’t you?’

Henry sighed, his shoulders sagging. ‘Yes, I know that. But what they’re saying of him are lies.’

Richard gave Henry a coldly assessing glance, and he shook his head, perhaps in contempt, or because Henry was gullible－ the latter did not know which. ‘Phoenix is some sort of enigmatic individual from some weird factory. That, plus his ambition renders anything they say about him to be totally possible when you take the time to consider it from all angles.’

‘Aw, come on,’ Henry snapped impatiently, his fingers raking through his crew cut, a sigh of frustration gushing out of him. ‘You know it can’t be true of the guy. Since you met him, have you ever known him to be anything less than courteous to you and unfailingly polite?’

‘Well, no,’ Richard replied thoughtfully as he stroked his chin, his brows drawing down in concentration. ‘But still, there is something about him, that come-hither aspect of him that draws women in, and also men. That is what the people will look at, not whether he was busy soliciting for sex from the men he had come in contact with. And besides that, you know that everybody sure loves a good scandal.’

Before Henry could throw in a scathing comment, the intercom on the polished desktop buzzed, and the voice of the secretary called into the thing, announcing that Rosalie Johnson was there to see him. Plastering on a fake plastic smile to his lips, Henry went back to his swivel chair and settled into it. He had to look like the happy millionaire that was on the top of his game because Rosalie would never stand for anything less than that. It was the one gift she had given to him－ the issue of being able to project the fact that you were at the top even if you were at the rock bottom.

Moments later, the sound of high heels clicking on the marble could be heard, and then the door eased open. Clouds of exotic Chanel No. 5 wafted in, followed by the wearer of the exotic fragrance.

Rosalie Johnson was a vision of elegance, turned out in a silk suit of clinging black, the color contrasting dramatically with her light skin, her full black hair hanging loose around her shoulders, full and rich in its natural glory, better and bigger than the normal African hair that women were so ashamed of and did everything they possibly could to hide with the braids and the faux extensions. She was smiling up a storm, and when Henry rose from his chair to give her the customary kiss on the cheeks and murmur appreciatively about how stunning she looked, she held out one long hand.

‘Darling, how nice you look,’ she said in her signature whispery voice that had made many a man to turn and gawk at her. She kissed the air around his cheeks and then her attention was turned to Richard.

Before the woman could say anything to the other man, Henry demanded, ‘Mother, have you seen the papers?’ Then he drew back so he could escape the cloud of aromatic fragrances that wafted forth from his mother’s body in waves. Unfortunately, he sneezed.

A look of pure alarm swept into the face of the woman, almost twisting her perfect features. But then, it would be over her dead body to frown and get wrinkles all over her stunning face.

‘Darling, do you have a cold?’ she demanded. ‘In that case, please do not touch me because I do not want to get your germs.’ And with that, she flew around to the other side of the table with amazing grace and lightning speed, her smiling disposition now restored as soon as she’d distanced herself from the carrier of the germs. ‘So, darling, what were you saying? You know I barely have the time to look at the papers save for the financial section and the fashion pages.’

Henry sighed and exhaled some rapid yoga fire breaths so he could keep his impatience in check. Rosalie could try the patience of a saint. ‘Mother, Phoenix is in the papers, and this time they’re saying that he was having sex with men for money before he became an actor.’

‘Oh, darling, do not sweat the small stuff,’ Rosalie said in her whispery voice, waving one long arm dismissively. She settled herself down on the swivel chair and crossed one slender leg over the other. ‘I’d thought that you had something better to tell me.’

‘You don’t really understand, do you?’ Richard asked with a small smile of amusement. ‘Henry is worried that the investment you have made on the guy’s head may be heading down the drain.’

Rosalie spared the young man a scathing glare of contempt. ‘Darling, you are so naïve,’ she said impatiently. ‘In the movies, once the gay rumors start, then it means that you’re really a star. Everybody will then want to have a piece of you, and what better way to get cheap public attention than to dream up one silly crap that you’ve supposedly done? They can accuse you of pedophilia, or prostitution, or it could be sexual molestation－ the list is endless. In our boy’s case, he’s being accused of being a faggot. I so love this already.’

‘It doesn’t bother you?’ Henry asked incredulously.

‘Of course it doesn’t!’ Rosalie exclaimed as she flew to her feet, her four-inch heels notwithstanding. She walked around the table and placed one hand on her son’s shoulder, obviously having forgotten about the germs and her promise to stay away as far from him as was humanly possible. ‘Whoever did this to him－?’ and she waved, at a loss for a name.

‘Ali Hassan,’ Richard offered.

‘Yes, Ali Hassan－ he’s got a grudge against our boy, or he just wants to get his ugly face into the papers. Either way, he’s got what he wanted, and now, it’s my turn to do what I can to discredit his ass. A nice smear campaign can do that, and then it’ll all be over. I will not sit back here and watch I have worked so hard for be washed down the drain.’

And in that moment, at that time of clear truths, Henry understood what Rosalie wanted. She was not interested in the real Phoenix, the guy behind what they were showing up there on the screens. All she was interested in was not to allow any meddlesome third party butt into what she had labored hard for; what was one the greatest sources of her never-dwindling bank account. Sorry for any person who was unfortunate enough to try and get in her way; she would crush the fellow to bits. She could be really extremely cruel when the mood was upon her, and now was one of those times.

Henry also wanted to destroy anybody that tried to do anything to the guy he loved, though his own reasons were not as selfish as that of his mother’s. He hated what Ali Hassan was doing to Phoenix, and he hated the man, hated him! He wished he could get the man by his neck and throttle him to death, watch as his eyes glazed over into a pool of permanent blackness, watch as the tongue of the man extend forth from his mouth, the breath leaving his body in a whoosh as the life fled from his tortured lungs.

‘I will get to the bottom of this,’ he said coldly.

‘Do not get in way over your head with this,’ Richard advised.

‘I am already in way over my head about this,’ Henry said coldly, his eyes blazing with fury.