Archive for the ‘Trust Me…Who Do You Think You Are?’ Category

Trust Me…Who Do You Think You Are?

January 7, 2011

The comeback concert of Brandy Lookingglass has come to an end.  Thanks to me, she is back on top with a bullet.  Thanks to her, my heart is filled with cupidity, my brain is bubbling with romantic notions.  She quietly dallies on the piano, wholly unaware I am watching her with a desirous gaze.“What did you think,” I ask the bartender after I place my order.

He stands transfixed, his eyes on Brandy.  I know exactly how he feels.My mind turns inward and I mentally prepare myself for how the night will unfold.  I am enjoying my fantasy very much, especially knowing that it will soon become a reality.We return to the apartment and Brandy enters her bedroom.  I follow right behind her.

“Aren’t you glad we are finally home?” I ask, my voice low and sensuous.“Sigismund!”  She whirls around in surprise.  “What are you doing in here?”

“I’m doing exactly what you want me to do, beautiful Brandy.”  I sound as smooth as I feel.I reach towards her, my face flushed.  “Come to me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with fervor.

But she pushes away.  “What are you doing?” she demands.

“Now you’re just being coy,” I growl.  “I like it!”“Sigismund, stop!”  Her sugarcoated drawl seems more pronounced and her face is contorted with confusion.  “Why are you acting like…like you are acting, like I’m your…woman?”“We’re adults.  We don’t need to control our impulses anymore,” I placate her in a soothing voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brandy responds.

“The song…the words you spoke about the man you can’t have.  I’m that man, Brandy, I’m that man!”  I declare wildly.Her face softens with utter sadness and she reaches out and grasps my shoulder.  I thrill to the electricity of her touch and I am not sure I can restrain myself much longer.

“No, no.  That was not a song about love…it is a song about loss.  It is about my son!”  She drops her hand and shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”“I don’t understand.  You sang those words to me.”  Now it is my turn to be confused.

“I was looking at you because you are the only other person who knows my secret,” she says quietly.I don’t care what she is saying now.  I know what I want.”Brandy, I am prepared to do whatever it takes, I am prepared to give up whatever I have to so you can be mine,” I practically shout and I lunge for her again but she roughly pushes me off.The look on her face is undeniable.  I am taken aback by how revolted she is.  It cuts me to my inner core.“Am I repulsive to you?” I hiss, pulling back.  “After everything I have done for you, when no one else was interested in you, I took you by the hand and guided you every step of the way.  You repay me how?  By toying with my affections?”“Now look here, you can’t talk to my like that!”  She points her finger accusingly in my face.  “You knew how much you had to gain by representing me.  What right do you have to say I’m supposed to climb in your bed and be all ‘Thank you, Mr. Notorious.’  That thought is disgusting to me, and you should be ashamed.  Who do you think you are?”She flies around the room in a fury, throwing clothing into a small suitcase.  “If you think I’m going to stay one more night in this place, being subjected to your juvenile…asinine behavoir, well, you’ve got another thing coming!”  Her voice sputters out, she is so angry she cannot speak.  I stand still, watching her, not believing what is happening.  What was I thinking?  Who did I think I was?  The door slams and Brandy is gone.In a daze, I slowly remove my Simmani tuxedo and don my pajamas.  My first inclination is to communicate with my wife, even though it is late.  I need to reach out to Ariane, to know that she is waiting patiently for me at home, to know my daughter, Mariposa is waiting and my little boy, Vereen.But a revelation of shame rises up and shatters over me.  Suddenly I know that Ariane knows, has known all along what I was too blind to realize.  My behavior has been juvenile.  I have fawned all over this woman, catered to her every need.  My parents must know as well, maybe even my children recognize how differently I acted towards that washed-up, nectar-drinking hack.  A sob of despair escapes my throat.I lay down but sleep eludes my racing mind.  I taunt and deprecate myself, replaying the scene in Brandy’s bedroom over and over.  At last I rise from the bed and go upstairs to the rooftop Simmcuzzi.  A hot, steaming soak will ease my agony and clear my rabid brain.  But as I sit, the shame dissipates and is replaced by my old, oh-so-familiar anger.  Who do I think I am?  I am Sigismund Notorious and no one plays me for a fool.

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