Legend 11

It's been a year now since Morocco found out about me and Valentine.  

 

In the last year people have just been disappearing.  Naomi went into what she called Hiatus for some unknown reason.  She left Chaos Balmain in charge of the house in her absence.  And Chaos ruled with what I liked to call an iron hand.  Nothing meant more to Chaos then making the house of Balmain the house of the year at the upcoming awards ball.  And Chaos would go to any lengths to make sure that happened.  His life was the ballroom scene and sooner or later I realized that my life was the ballroom scene as well.

 

Morocco completely went missing.  Everyone thought he was dead for the longest time save a very peculiar snapchat of him in the mountains proclaiming that he was finding himself.  I didn't know what that meant but a part of me felt like Morocco wouldn't want me to know.  He hated me.  He despised me and he was making it clear that he didn't want to be around.

 

Then there was him.

 

"You shouldn't be here," he says.

 

Valentine.

 

He opens the door shirtless.  His body is still the same if not stronger but he's grown out a rugged beard that is popular to the guys in Philadelphia.  The shaggy beard is long and distinct and not at all trim.  He answers the door in nothing but basketball shorts.

 

"I brought groceries," I plead.

 

Valentine hadn't been on the scene much.  The days when you see him and the Cavalli's storming into the ballroom scene sexy, shirtless and the desire of every gay man in Philly were pretty much over.  Since Morocco killed himself Valentine had become a hermit...sticking to himself.  Soon his own personal life was starting to lead to the decline of House Cavalli, the most popular house in Philadelphia.  This made room for Balmain.  I should have been happy.  I was getting all that I wanted.  

So why was I here? Why was I at Valentine's doorsteps?

"Come in," Valentine tells me.

I walk into the house.  I've been here before.  Valentine was neat.  He had a classic, elegance and maturity of a well put together bachelor once upon a time.  That was all fairytales now.  The apartment I walk into has a manly odor to it as though he hasn't left the apartment in days.

 

"Valentine...you let yourself go," I say.

 

"You're outspoken," he replies immediately.

 

He takes the groceries out of my hand and goes into his kitchen.  I'm not sure if he's offended by how blunt I'm being but I have to be the one to tell him.  I've been struggling to make this visit for so long and I had no idea how to do it.  Being at his doorstep now it just seemed like the glorious heartthrob known as Valentine had faded almost completely off of the Earth.

 

"Things have changed," I let him know.

 

"So I can see," he replies, "Fly clothes.  What is that jacket?  Burberry?  I bet the Balmains are taking good care of you with all the prize money they've been winning.  Isn't that right?"

I'm not sure if he's just acknowledging facts or he's coming from a place of resentment.  I can't tell from Valentine's eyes.  

 

I admit as matter-of-factly as I can muster, "I've been doing well..."

 

"Well?  Pft.  I heard you've sat every man, woman and drag queen that come up against you from here to Cali in the past year.  How many balls have you won in the last year?"

I've lost count.  Everything he's saying is right.  This year has been a success for me.  It's been more than a success. My success in the ballroom scene caught the eye of a popular designer who wanted me to be the face of his new line.  I've been the on-the-scene celebrity for quite a while now.  They'd made up chants for me that were completely apart from the house chants from the house of Balmain.

 

When I walk a catwalk they'd chant, "IS HE REAL?   THAT FACE IS ISREAL."

The lights.  The stars.  The money.  The fame.  In the last year I had become a powerhouse in the ballroom scene rising faster than it took others to do in a decade.  I was known.   I was loved.  Somehow, my humble nature out of the ballroom scene helped make me even likeable especially with people who knew the attitude that Morocco had.  

 

"Someone once said fame is an unnatural human condition," I tell him.

 

Valentine puts down the groceries.  He leans onto his fridge and his eyes turn towards me.  The slanty, oval shaped eyes seem to drill into me trying to figure something out.  Even now when he stares at me I feel naked as though he can see my entire soul.

"What was that?"  He asks me before continuing immediately into a slight rant, "You trying to tell me you don't like the fame.  You trying to tell me you don't like the idea of walking into a room and everyone knows your name.  Everyone wants a picture.  Everyone wants to know who Israel Balmain is.  And everyone thinks this little young boy who didn't have a voice a year ago is now the most beautiful person in the room.  Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

He doesn't believe a goddam word I'm saying through all of this.

 

"I'm trying to tell you that's not all that matters to me," I respond.

"What else matters to you?"

"What do you think?" I ask shaking my head, "Why am I here?  Listen.  I haven't changed.  I don't care how many people know my name.  I'm still that quiet little boy in the shadow of his twin brother.  I'm still the idiot that hurt people and others hate me for it."

The tears come immediately.  I try to hold them back but they come.  It's a sick feeling knowing that I almost drove Morocco to commit suicide a year ago.  It's a sick feeling to know that the person I came into this world with was willing to leave the world because of something I did.  The sickest feeling though...out of all of this is the feeling that I wouldn't take any of it back.  Looking at Valentine right now I don't have any regrets.  All the feelings are still there.  

 

Maybe that's why Valentine looks away as though he's embarrassed.

 

"You can have anyone in this world," he replies to me, "Why me?  The one man that you can't have?"


He's asking me again. Why was I here... a year later on his doorstep letting him know that the fame hadn't gone to my head and letting him know that I still cared deeply for him.

 

"I don't fuckin' know.  Why is the grass green?  Why is the sky blue?  Why can't Israel go a day without thinking about Valentine?"  I reply more bluntly then I would have liked, "I should..." I stop and turn to the door, "I should get out of here."

I walk towards the door at that moment.

 

"Wait."

 

He stopped me.  His hands on my skin send shivers down my spine.  It's everything that I wanted.  The look in his eyes is softer now.

"I don't blame you.  For what happened with Morocco.  I don't blame you for all of this..."

He looks around clearly talking about the depression that he's gone into.

 

"You should," I respond, "I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"For the past year Lucky Cavalli has been working with Chaos Balmain," I explain to him, "He's been feeding information from your house meetings.  He's been letting people know what effects people are going to bring for their different categories.  He's been letting competing houses know all Cavalli secrets.  He's been selling out the house."

Valentine's eyes are wide at that moment.

I can tell he's upset.  The house of Cavalli had gone from the greatest house in Philadelphia to a joke.  It was now known as a house of has-been muscle guys struggling hard to maintain their sex appeal.

 

And Chaos.  Well Chaos was the puppet master.

"Wait...how long have you known about this?"

I cross my arms, "A while."

"And you were protecting him?"

"Wait are you mad?" I ask, confused all of a sudden.

 

"This motherfucker Lucky singlehandedly destroyed a legendary house that has been around since the 80s.  We are a joke now.  Yes.  I'm fucking mad that someone I care about knew this whole time and didn't tell me!"

"I don't care about Lucky, but Chaos had a part in it.  I didn't feel comfortable just...selling him out."

"Because he's making you famous," he responds with a smile on his face before shaking his head at that moment, "Here I thought the fame didn't change you.  Here I thought there was actually a chance that...that..."

He stops talking.

 

"Bitch."

Valentine's eyes widen at that moment.  He doesn't expect me to call him a bitch.  Right now he is looking behind him as though I'm talking to his shadow and not him.  He may have expected something like that from Morocco but not from me.  The fame didn't change me.  No. The experience changed me.  And I wasn't some weak puppet anymore.  A year ago I wouldn't be as offended or if I was offended I'd let it roll off my shoulders.

 

Valentine actually smiles at that moment, "Whoa.  Now.  Israel.  Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"

"I'm talking to you," I respond, "I'm haven't been on Chaos side because of some goddam fame conspiracy.  I didn't tell you because after the fall out with my brother it was more than clear where your loyalties  lie.  You're in your apartment depressed because Morocco ran away.  I don't have anything.  Nothing.  The fame doesn't mean a goddam thing to me.  All I had was a sense of family.  All I had was the Balmains.  You can call them monsters if you want.  You can call them savages.  I heard it all.  But they've been there for me!  They've been the family that I don't have.  They've supported me no matter what.  And maybe they are wrong sometimes but you know the thing about family?  You know the thing that me and Morocco could never figure out.  The thing we BOTH are guilty of.  You never turn your back on family.  Never."


I could go on and on.  My face is beat red.  I'm so angry that I'm shaking.  The fact that Valentine thought so low of me blows my mind.

So I storm off.

Going there was a mistake.  And I knew it.  I knew it this entire goddam time.

"You're late."

"I know."

"You know how Chaos gets."

"I know."

Cha Cha Balmain is digging into me as soon as I walk into the house.  I've gotten an apartment with Cha Cha in West Philadelphia.  It's a decent apartment with a decent size.  A lot of the Balmains are kids who had gotten kicked out by their parents for being gay.  They were kids like Morocco.  Morocco had gotten kicked out of the house when he was a teenager because he just refused to change no matter how many times they beat him.  He refused to be anything but himself.  He was strong.  I don't know why I feel like taking these kids in would make a difference.  I felt like it would somehow make it up to Morocco for all the times I turned my face on him.  

Morocco isn't around to see this anymore though.  He hates me.  He isn't around to give a damn.

 

"Isreal doesn't need a lot of time," Wesley Balmain tells me.

Wesley and a bunch of the others gather around me as soon as I walk through the house.  I have to admit I think it's cute how much they all look at me.  Cha Cha gives me a wink and a teasing headshake when she sees I can't even walk through the door without teenage gay boys swarming me.  They were all Balmains.

 

"You're late..." Chaos states.

Chaos doesn't live here but I knew he would have come here for me.  

 

"I just need to change, wash my face and I'm good," I reply.

"He's ISREAL," Wesley states, "He'll be fine for the ball."

 

"All of you get the hell out---ALL OF YOU!"  Chaos screams.

 

He barks in Wesley's face in a way that makes me shiver a little bit.  Chaos has been like that since Naomi left.  It's always his way or the highway.  The kids are terrified of him.  A part of me knows that I won't be as big in the ballroom scene if Chaos wasn't such a fucking bully but at the same time a part of me realizes that other houses have stars and they didn't have to go down the route the Balmains were taking.  

 

"C`mon guys," Cha Cha states, "I'll drive you all to the ball.  We'll let Chaos and Israel catch up a little later..."

It's only a minute more before I'm alone with Chaos.  Chaos circles around me...attempting to intimidate me probably.  I keep a stone face trying not to let him get to me.

 

"This is the most important ball of the year," Chaos explains, "The Philadelphia awards ball."

The awards ball was different because they gave out awards.  People from all over the United States were coming to Philadelphia for this event.  The Who's Who of the ballroom scene would be there.  And within the last year I was the talk of the town.  All eyes were on me making sure that three things happened.  1:  I won my category when I walked tonight.  2:  I won Face of the Year.  3: Balmains won House of the Year and put that final nail in the coffin of the House of Cavalli."

 

I can hardly look into his eyes as I reply coldly, "I know how important this is."

"Where the hell were you?"

"I went to see Valentine."

Chaos look sick to his stomach, "For what?"

"You know why."

Everyone in Philadelphia knew what happened between Morocco, Valentine and I.  Lucky Cavalli made sure of that.  He'd gone around the city starting trouble.  That's the one thing he was good at.  Chaos sitting there acting like this was news about how I felt about Valentine blew my mind.

 

"Naomi once told me that beauty will keep you up at night," he explains to me, "She told me that beauty will warm you.  It will comfort you.  It will hold you.  Your beauty will charm you so that you won't need anyone else to do it.  Beauty will open doors that were once locked.  Your reflection will be your mirror.  It will be your biggest admirer.  You look at yourself and you'll learn.  No one will ever be able to tell you you're beautiful when you know you are."

"It sounds like something Naomi would say."

"So why weaken yourself for love?" he asks me.

"Is that what you think Naomi meant by that?"

"It's what I KNOW she meant by it.  You're wasting your fucking time chasing Valentine.  Destroy him.  He's the enemy.  We've toppled his entire house."

"YOU toppled his house.  I did no such thing."

He laughs, "Who do you think is the face of Balmain.  I may be the muscle.  I may push the envelope.  I moved their mantles...but only to put your beautiful face above them.  We did this.  Together."

I shake my head.

Chaos is fucking crazy.

 

"Beauty isn't everything.  It fades.  And when I'm not beautiful anymore...I want someone to love me.  Even then."

This doesn't seem to relate to Chaos.  In fact it seems to anger him.

 

"We're late," he cuts our conversation off, `Do what you have to do and get to the fucking ball.  And oh...Cinderella.  The last beating we gave Valentine Cavalli was nothing compared to what the Balmains are capable of when we want something.  If you don't want the Balmains to attack your Prince Charming like we did last time...make sure you stay away from him."

The threat was clear as day.

 

Chaos would go after Valentine if I pursued him any further.

 

I'm in a robe.  The Face category on the flier reads "Walk for your house to demonstrate your loyalty.  All the Face Kids...bring it like Royalty."

 

I play with my house.  They say heavy is head that wears the crown.  Tonight should be the highlight of my ballroom career.  I should be happy.  The commentator is on the loudspeaker.  He looks over at me.  

 

"Winner for the category of Face of the year goes to..."

I should be happy.  I should be more than happy but my face is heavy.  There is a chant that crosses my table leaps to another table and continues throughout the hall while I'm sitting at the ball.  I try my hardest to fake a smile but nothing comes out.  All I can think about is the departure of Morocco, the argument with Valentine and the threat from Chaos.  

 

Everyone is happy for me even when I'm not happy for myself.  The commentator hasn't even announced my name and the room exploders with a repetitive chant.

 

"IS HE REAL?   THAT FACE IS ISREAL."

 

"IS HE REAL?   THAT FACE IS ISREAL."

 

"IS HE REAL?   THAT FACE IS ISREAL!!!"

"And the winner of the face of the year is none other than Israel Balmain!"

Cheers and chants erupt thru out the crowd.  They are coming even from my competitors.  They are even coming the legendary face people who just a few months ago were slandering me and saying that I didn't deserve the wins that I got.  They could deny me the first time I beat them.  They could even attempt to deny me the third time I beat them.  But when I beat them 3 times...some things were undeniable.

I'd won the ballroom scene over.

 

Slowly I walk up to the stage.  I tear through my own feelings and flash my teeth.  My mouth is literally shaking from the stress I'm putting on my muscles to smile.  I turn to the crowd of adoring fans as people take pictures of me getting a trophy as "The Face of the Year."  More camera flashes.  More chants start.  More cheers come in.  

 

And that's when it happens.  I see Valentine.

 

I immediately find myself getting a little weak.  I feel a fainting heap come over me just from seeing Valentine even for a minute.  He's looking the same.  He's standing next to Body Cavalli.  They don't even have a table.  So many people have left the house of Cavalli that you could probably count on two hands how many members they had left.   They'd become a joke.  Valentine still looks good though.  He's standing there having put himself together ready for one more show of pride to the house of Cavalli.  

And it literally makes me weak.

"You ok son?" The commentator asks away from the mic.

I force a smile, "I'm fine."


I don't even get that word out before I see a band of Balmains quickly rush the stage to take me off.  It's the kind of people they are.  People think they are horrible but truthfully I know a lot of them are just angry and they just realize that the House they are in are the only people willing to listen to their anger.  So they protect their own.

 

They take me to a corner of the ballroom.  I'm not surprised Yvonne Balmain is fanning me or that Wesley and Little Tony Balmain are running off to find me some water.  Cha Cha Balmain and the other  drag queens in the house have made a barrier around me.  They are blocking me from prying eyes no doubt.  People wanting to know what the fuck happened to Israel Balmain.

"You must have really wanted that award," laughter spreads at that moment, "Fainting and all that."

Lucky Cavalli is standing there before I know it.  I'm pissed that he's in there smiling.

 

"I'm glad you think me almost passing out is a joke," I respond.

 

"Don't worry.  You still looked sexy doing it," Lucky responds to me licking his lips.

I roll my eyes at that moment.  He's more than annoying.

"Why are you here?" Cha Cha states, "Unless you want trouble.  Cavalli.  I suggest you walk away."

Cha Cha is clear.  The Balmains would defend me if they needed to.  I see a gang of them already on alert as soon as Cha Cha gives her warning to Lucky.  The drag queens are dying up their hair.  The realness boys are pulling up their pants. Normally I wouldn't cosign the Balmain aggression but right now it feels good to know that they have my back no matter what.

 

"Cavalli?  I don't see a Cavalli," Lucky responds.

 

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Lucky doesn't answer it.  It's Chaos who walks over and breaks the news.

"Lucky is a Balmain now."

Cha Cha's eyes get wide.  She looks over at me.  I look over at Chaos.  My heart is beating heavily.  Lucky is staring at me with this snide smile that covers his entire face.

 

"I'm your house brother now sexy," Lucky tells me, "I wonder now if I fuck you would that make it incest?  Ha..."

I look over at Chaos, "You can't be serious.  This boy is a snake."

"Sssss," Lucky hisses sticking out his tongue probably to prove how long it is.

"Kiss my ass Lucky."

"I'm trying to.  You won't let me, "he says making the hissing noise yet again and sexualizing it even more.

I don't think anyone in the world is as annoying as Lucky right now.  The fact that he is a Balmain blows my fucking mind.

 

I look over at Chaos, "You can't have approved this.  I need to talk to Naomi."

"Naomi's gone.  I'm in charge."

"If he joins.  I'll leave this fucking house.  I SWEAR TO GOD."

 

Chaos rolls his eyes excusing me, "You ain't going nowhere.  I promise.  Stop being a faggot.  Do your job.  Look pretty and shut the fuck up.  Or else I'll have to show you just how fierce the Balmains are and why we have this reputation."

Is he threatening me?

I stand up to Chaos and walk over to him in the next minute, "What you going to do?  Attack me?   You really think any Balmain would ever put their hands on me?  Do you know who I am?  Little man?  I'm the golden child of this fucking house.  I'M THE REASON WE ARE UP FOR HOUSE OF THE YEAR!"


I am channeling Morocco at that moment.  I'm in his face and I can see the awkward stares from the others listening in.  No one has ever talked to Chaos Balmain like this.  Not to his face at least.  Chaos is taken aback at my backbone probably.  He actually takes a step back.

 

He seems so desperate at that moment to gain control.  He knows deep inside that the Balmains adore me.  They wouldn't attack me...not even if he told them to.

 

Maybe that's why he reaches out pointing across the room.

"Not you. I wouldn't fuck up that face of yours.  Valentine Cavalli is a different story though," he threatens me.

 

It's Yvonne who shakes her head, "Damn Chaos.  That's low.  You know Israel cares about that boy man..."

"I said, what I said," Chaos replies, "I won't take away Israel's beauty but when I'm done with Valentine you won't even be able to recognize him.  Now test me if you want Israel."

I get silent.  He's pulling the Valentine card on me again.  Valentine is my weakness.

What Chaos doesn't know is that he's getting dirty looks from people in the house.   Even his sidekicks Little Patrick Balmain and Hollywood Balmain who are literally always up his ass are giving him the side eye.  Chaos thinks he's so in control right now because I'm silent.  

He's an idiot.  He should ask Morocco.  I don't need to be loud and aggressive to get my way at the end of the day.  He'll learn.  

So I realize I'm smiling naturally now, better than ever, "I think they just called my category."

Chaos grunts, sharing an awkward handshake with Lucky.  

 

"I figured you'd see it my way," Chaos says outload.

 

I ignore him.  I'll let him win this battle.  It was nothing.

 

And I'd walk Balmain.

"Anybody 9.   Anybody else 8...7.  Anybody else 6..."


The legends in the face category sit this category out.  They must have heard the chants.  They must have seen how people lived for my face.  They won't walk.  This isn't the first ball that I've won by default.  Lately that's how it's been.  People rather save face...literally then walk against me.

 

I turn to the judges and cross my arms.

"Let's just get this over with..." I roll my eyes once I see Chaos Balmain's triumphant face that I was bringing yet another trophy to the house of Balmain.

 

"What's this..." the commentator states, "Am I...am I seeing double?"

The words are strange when they come out of the commentator's mouth.  I don't expect them.  I am facing the judges and his words cause me to whip my head around.  I drag my robe halfway down the runway to the beginning of the runway where I see someone else walking up.  

 

My mouth drops as I realize who the person walking up against me is.

My competitor is none other than my brother.

Morocco.

 

 

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