Killer Queen

by Serene Franklin

  Taylor nodded, his hands suddenly holding one of mine. “Come, come. I bet there’s a story here.”

  We skipped the couch, heading straight for his bed instead. Taylor pulled back the covers and motioned for me to get in first, which I did. He crawled in, facing me, and gave me an encouraging smile. I laid everything out for him—from my feelings for Mac to how awful I felt being alone in our flat. Taylor listened to every word without judgment. Even when I cringed over how awful something I felt sounded out loud, Taylor just nodded and let me talk.

  By the time I was finished I felt marginally better and was able to tell Taylor as much when he asked. “Of course you feel better,” he started. “Keeping shit bottled up is the worst thing you can do. It doesn’t matter what your feelings are—you have to get them out, sis.”

  I nodded, unable to deny his words. “Thanks, Dr. Taye.”

  “Anytime, Irish. I accept payment in the form of Louboutin stilettos—I wear a forty-two,” he said with a wink.

  “Bloody hilarious,” I deadpanned, eliciting a self-satisfied laugh from Taylor.

  “Do you know what you’re going to do tonight? It’s kind of last minute.”

  “‘Ex-Girlfriend’ by No Doubt.”

  “No shit, huh?” Taylor asked with a sympathetic grin.

  I attempted a smile, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “Lucky for me there’s a No Doubt or Gwen song for every occasion.”

  “Enough.” Taylor clapped his hands twice. “We have hours before we have to be anywhere—I say we order some pizza and binge on Untucked. I’ve even got ice cream.”

  A genuine smile pulled at my lips, and I nodded. “That sounds brilliant.”

  The next morning I was in the kitchen making bacon, baked beans, fried tomatoes, and eggs. It wasn’t quite a full Irish breakfast, though it was the best I could do with what we had. I’d heard Mac come in late last night and wanted to try to patch things up with him. He loved food, so breakfast seemed like a good peace offering.

  I was finishing up the bacon when Mac entered the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “Good morning,” I said with what I hoped was an easy smile.

  Mac ran a hand down his bare stomach and scratched just beneath the band of his blue kex. I tried not to stare at his body, but I failed miserably. It had been weeks since I’d seen this much of him, and my eyes were drinking him in, stocking up for the next drought.

  He flashed me a sleepy grin and wished me a good morning in return. I turned back to the sizzling bacon, relieved that our small exchange hadn’t been awkward. Mac’s footsteps came nearer until he stood beside me. As I turned to ask him what he was doing, his fingers gently twisted in the loose dangling stands of my hair. He brought it to his nose and softly inhaled, humming contentedly.

  I froze, completely unsure of what else to do. My grip on the spatula tightened when Mac’s beard tickled my ear. “Mac,” I whispered gently.

  His fingers stilled while my heart hammered in my chest. He dropped the locks of my hair and stepped back. His eyes were wide, and he appeared a bit disoriented. “I… I’m sorry, Dubhlainn. I don’t know—that won’t happen again.”

  I flinched at his use of my full name, disguising it with a nod. He was the only person who called me Dove, and I missed it. “It’s all right. Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

  He bowed his head once then backed away, taking a seat at the table. He opened his laptop and didn’t spare me another glance all through breakfast.

  So much for patching things up.

  Lunch with my sister gave me a much-needed excuse to get out of the flat. Mac hadn’t retreated to his room, though the silent treatment was just as rough. I met up with Aoibheann at a small pub a few blocks from her office. The place was an absolute dive, though the pints were cheap. I didn’t even have to use my fake ID.

  I’d kept Aoibheann up to date on my situation with Mac via text. She didn’t bring him up at all during our meal, which was refreshing. She mostly told me how much fun she and Samir had at the show, surprised at the energy in the room.

  “You were nearly unrecognizable—and prettier than me, you little shite.”

  I smirked, finishing my third pint. “I’ve always been the pretty one.”

  “Fancy yourself a gas lad today, I see.”

  “I’m just callin’ it like I see it.”

  Halfway through my next pint, Aoibheann suddenly smiled wide and waved to someone behind me. I turned in my chair, locking eyes with Eli. I nodded to him then faced my sister. “I should get going.”

  She placed her hand over mine on the table, squeezing gently. “Stay. It’s just Eli. Bryan or Mac aren’t coming.”

  “No. I’ve got a few things I need to do today.”

  “Like what?” she asked in a challenge.

  Eli arrived at the table and greeted us, flashing me a shy smile. He had to know what was going on with me and Mac. From what I understood, there was very little Mac withheld from Bryan, and nothing that Bryan wouldn’t share with his fiancé. I knew that my presence would have Eli’s anxiety on high and put him in an awkward spot—all of which would be easily avoided if I left.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting,” he said to me, then turned to Aoibheann. “I’m a little early. I was just over at the bakery and left too soon.”

  “It’s okay, pet. Have a seat,” she replied with a smile.

  “Don’t worry about it. I was just leaving.” My sister’s cocked eyebrow leveled me. “I’m getting a haircut if you must know. I need a change, and it’s too hot for this length.” That was a lie. The last official day of summer was last week, and the high temperatures were already falling off. She didn’t call me out, though. She and Eli didn’t need to know that I was cutting my hair so Mac wouldn’t be tempted to touch it again. He loved my hair, and maybe he’d lose some of his lingering interest if it was gone.

  I finished my pint before excusing myself then wandered around until I found a barber. I loved my hair, and had been growing it out for years. It had become part of my identity, and I was scared as hell to cut it. I sat down in the barber’s chair and reminded myself that my hair would always grow back, which was more than I could say for some things.

  Seventeen

  Mac

  The thing about sadness was that it came in waves. The last time I’d been remotely upset was when my grandpa passed, and what I felt now was too similar to that. It was exacerbated by the fact that I still had to see Dove daily and pretend that I was okay. So I did what I had to. I put on a smile and pretended that my beating heart hadn’t been ripped out of my chest by the person who lit up my world.

  It was a solid plan, though I failed on the execution. The morning after I’d been essentially dumped, I saw Dove in the kitchen and couldn’t muster more than a weak “hi.” He seemed equally uncomfortable and returned to his room for the rest of the day. After that I stopped trying. It was clear that there was going to be an adjustment period for us both—though for extremely different reasons.

  I spent more time at the office and visiting home and Grams. After four days of consecutive visits home I told Miho what had happened and almost burst into tears. I managed to hold it in, keeping on a brave face for my baby sister. That didn’t stop her from crying for me. My mom had been eavesdropping on that conversation and burst into my room. Also crying. I’d filled Dad in while he was cooking.

  The hardest person to talk to—aside from Dove—was Grams. She felt awful for the way things turned out, though she insisted I try to talk to him again. I couldn’t see the point. He’d outright told me sleeping with me wasn’t what he wanted, and I had to respect that. Losing the sexual aspect of a relationship sucked, but it was low on the list of painful, stabby things. What I missed most was his companionship. Just being around him, talking, laughing, holding him—those things I’d taken for granted when my head was firmly buried in the sand. I missed my friend. I missed the warmth of a lover I never truly had.

  Two wee
ks in and I wasn’t getting over being a mopey asshole, so I decided to put more distance between us. I’d showed up on Maxim’s doorstep with a duffel and crashed a few nights on his couch. He didn’t ask me any questions, though that didn’t stop me from eventually spilling the story. On my first morning back at home in almost a week I’d fucked up royally. Dove was making breakfast and he’d seemed happy to see me. I’d honestly thought I was still asleep, and I’d touched him in a way I had no right to do anymore. I’d played with his hair and was about to kiss his neck and tell him how much I missed him. He’d stopped me then, shattering my fantasy and bringing me back to my colorless reality. The worst part was that he’d come home with a haircut. It wasn’t just a trim—his loose copper waves now stood up, no longer weighed down by their length. The cut was shorter on the sides, drawing the eye to the mess of loose curls on top. He looked fucking gorgeous, but knowing that my slipup had been the reason he’d cut it was another stab.

  Forget about fucking him—he didn’t want me to touch him whatsoever. I left again after that, going back to my parents’ house until my mom’s never-ending babying drove me crazy. She only ever fussed over me when I was sick, and I guess being heartbroken counted.

  The most recent stop on my pity-train was Bryan and Eli’s apartment, which I’d been putting off since they were happy and planning their wedding, and I just didn’t want to ruin that. Bryan guessed as much and called me, all but demanding I get my sorry ass over to see them.

  That was three days ago. It was the last Friday in September, and I was spending it in my boxers, sprawled out on their couch with Prince lying on my chest. Bryan was cooking something with a lot of garlic and lemon. Eli alternated between sitting on a stool at the kitchen island to talk to Bryan and at the foot of the couch. I knew he was babysitting me, but I didn’t care.

  He and Bryan were in the kitchen speaking in hushed tones while I watched videos on my phone of a certain drag queen. Some were my own private videos, but I found so many more on the YouTube channel for the club and spectator uploads. I didn’t let myself watch them often, but I was feeling pathetic and missing him.

  I jumped, startling Prince, when I saw that the club had uploaded a new video from last Friday. I watched Dove strut around to a familiar No Doubt song, looking every bit as vibrant and sexy as he did for all of his shows. A small grin lifted the corners of my mouth as I watched. He wore another bright pink wig and had the most dramatic makeup I’d seen him in to date. My smile faded when the chorus reminded me of which song this was: “Ex-Girlfriend.” I closed the app, locked my phone, and tossed it on the table in front of the couch, causing a louder bang than I’d intended.

  Eli was in front of me within seconds. He sat down on the floor with his legs crossed, putting him almost at eye level with me. “Is everything okay?” he asked gently.

  “No, it’s not,” I snapped.

  He winced, and I felt like an asshole. “I’m sorry. I should have worded that better.”

  I sighed, raking my teeth over my top lip. “Shit, I’m sorry, Eli. I didn’t mean to take my shit out on you. I… don’t feel like myself. One of the videos I was watching just set me off.” I reached out and lifted his chin with the knuckle of my index finger. “Seriously, don’t feel bad. Well, you can feel bad for me if you want to, but don’t think you did anything wrong.”

  He grinned then nodded his head. “I saw Dubhlainn last week.” He paused, studying my face for my reaction. “I wasn’t going to mention it because I didn’t want to upset you. He was with Eve. I think you should try talking to him again.”

  I furrowed my brow at that. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  “Are you sure? He seemed… I don’t know… sad. He bolted pretty fast after I showed up—he said something about wanting a haircut. It wasn’t like him. He’s never been weird with me before, but that felt weird.”

  I barked out a humorless laugh, recalling that day in the kitchen when I thought I’d been having the sweetest dream. “Do you know why he got a haircut?”

  “He said it was too hot for that much hair.”

  My jaw clenched. I rubbed Prince behind her ears in an attempt to relax. “That morning I’d accidentally touched his hair. I used to do it all the time. I honestly thought I was dreaming. He flinched when I said his name. Like, physically recoiled. I felt like such a scumbag.”

  “Mac, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  His eyes were welling up with tears, and I wanted to reassure him, but my mouth was too dry to speak. In a few quick strides, Bryan was next to his fiancé, holding a hand out for him and pulling him up. He pulled Eli into a hug, kissed his temple, and whispered in his ear. I didn’t want to intrude on their intimate moment, but I was kind of stuck on the couch with Prince on top of me. Eli nodded and was smiling when Bryan pulled back.

  “Come on, girl,” Eli called for Prince. She jumped off of me and followed him to the front door. I heard some shuffling, the clicking of her leash being hooked onto her collar, and finally the door opening and closing.

  With Eli gone, Bryan crossed his arms and turned his attention on me. “Mac—”

  “I didn’t mean to upset him.”

  Bryan shook his head. “He’s all right. Sit up and scoot over.” I did as instructed, and Bryan sat down next to me with his body angled toward mine. He eyed me for a moment before shaking his head again. “You look like shit.”

  I scratched at my beard—it was in definite need of trimming. A haircut probably wouldn’t hurt either. “I feel like shit. I feel like a pathetic mess.”

  “You only just realized what you wanted before it was ripped away; you’re allowed to hurt, man.”

  “Hurting is one thing. I sit around watching videos of him and listen to ‘Nothing Compares 2 You’ like a heartbroken fool.”

  Bryan snorted. “You are a heartbroken fool.” He nudged me with his elbow, grinning. “Prince or Sinéad O'Connor?”

  “You know I love Prince, but it’s been O’Connor. You know—the whole Irish thing.”

  He hummed, leaning against me and hitching his feet up onto the couch. The citrus smell from the kitchen was strong on him. “It’s a great song either way.”

  “I tried watching some porn.”

  “This is news now?” Bryan asked with a playful grin.

  “Gay porn, you douche.” We were both well aware that I’d seen gay porn before. With having a gay best friend, and the two of us—namely me—having no boundaries, it was bound to happen on occasion over the years. And it did, though we both knew this was different.

  “And?”

  “It made me feel depressed. Horny and depressed,” I admitted.

  “So it’s not just Dubhlainn.” It wasn’t a question.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not. I guess I have a type too when it comes to guys. The ones that looked like me or bigger weren’t really doing it for me. None of the guys came close to having the effect on me he does, though.”

  “That’s because you love him, you dork. It has nothing to do with the way he looks.”

  I draped my arm over Bryan’s chest, feeling oddly comforted by the rise and fall. “I miss doing this with you, Bry. Don’t get me wrong, I’m elated that you and Eli are moving forward, and I’d have kicked your ass if you stayed living with me instead of moving in with him. I still miss just hanging out like this.”

  He craned his neck to look up at me, his pale green eyes meeting mine. “I do too.” He quietly chuckled to himself, then looked away.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking about what Miho would say if she could see us right now.”

  “Oh, God. She doesn’t need this much ammo. Right after I came out she actually asked me if we ever made out—right at the damn dinner table.”

  Bryan’s chest shook under my hand as laughter erupted from him. “Shit. You didn’t tell her about Vegas, did you?”

  “Are you fucking crazy? She’d never let that go. She’d
get herself ordained online and probably marry us behind our backs.” We both shared a laugh at that, knowing it was the very least my little sister would do. “Did you tell Eli?”

  “Yeah, I did. He actually cried laughing. Don’t worry, though. I made him promise not to tell anyone.”

  “I’m not worried about that. I know he can keep a secret.”

  A comfortable silence fell between us with the only sound in the apartment coming from a simmering pot on the stove. I glanced around the space that had once exclusively been Eli’s. It now had elements of Bryan and the life they shared. A framed photo of the two of them hanging on the wall by the window caught my eye more than anything else. It was one I’d taken last year at Thanksgiving after they’d officially started dating.

  “Hey, Bry,” I started quietly. “How did you know Eli was ‘the one’?”

  He thought it over for several beats, his breaths coming in sharper when I thought he might speak but didn’t. “Simply put, I couldn’t imagine being happy without him. He helped me experience everything in a new light, and I wanted that forever. It took a while, but once he opened up to me as friends I knew I was fucked. Everything he did, he did so earnestly—even if he was a bit blunt or awkward at times.”

  I snorted. “I can’t imagine him not being blunt and awkward.”

  “Right? I admired the honest person he was, and I wanted to be someone important to him. Someone he could trust and depend on. Maybe even someone he could love,” he said shyly.

  “Damn, dude.”

  “Yep.”

  “I don’t want to continue feeling like this. Tiptoeing around Dove is killing me.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Bryan asked.

  “Your man was right; I should talk to him again. Even if the outcome is the same, or worse. I don’t want to be the guy who runs from his problems. I was ready to tell him that I wanted to be with him. I can accept that he doesn’t want me in return, but I need to tell him—for me.” It was almost foreign to my ears, but for the first time in weeks I sounded confident. This was something I absolutely knew I had to do.