I sat down, folding my hands on the table.
“I’ve had my ass groped,” he said. “My boobs grabbed. Been asked for trade. Is that what’s happened to you?”
I looked at him, nodding slowly. I looked down at the table. “I used the customer bathroom once,” I said. “Someone followed me in there. Waited until I came out. Tried to stop me leaving.”
He squeezed my hands. “Sounds scary.”
“It was,” I breathed, staring at the swirling imitation marble pattern on the plastic tabletop. “It is.” I swallowed. “I couldn’t face it this weekend. That’s why I called in sick,” I said. And it was true. On top of what happened with the dressing room on Friday, I hadn’t been able to face it.
Marcus looked up at the clock on the wall, then stood up. “Let’s go,” he said. “We need to address this with Duane Tyrone.”
I looked up at him. “What if he kicks me out?”
Marcus quirked an eyebrow. “Who cares? We’ll go to the Emporium. Madam is on at me to get back there. Let’s leave that shitty little pile of bricks. I’m sick of all the glory days nostalgia BS. I’ve been punching way below my weight there, I can tell you.”
“The Emporium?”
“Madam Blovary’s Drag Emporium in Soho, London, England,” he said, grinning and adding a sarcastic little flip to the word England. “That’s where I was before I took my little sabbatical in New York eighteen months ago.”
“Wait,” I said. The name rang a bell. “Isn’t that from Drag Queen Beauty Pageant?” I asked. “The British Contessa…”
He nodded. “Of course. Queen Dictoria, ’87. She was the third Contessa we had… since then our average has been, I think Madam calculated, one per 7.9 years?”
I gaped at him. “Your old drag house sent a queen to Vivesse once every eight years?”
“Yes,” he grinned.
“B-But that would make it, like, almost the same as House of Cosmosis,” I said in shock.
Marcus doesn’t care that much, Anthony.
No wonder he didn’t care, if he was from London’s equivalent of House Cosmosis.
I couldn’t believe that all this time, I hadn’t known…
No-one ever told me anything.
His smile got even bigger, if possible. “And they’re begging me to come back. There’ll be a job for you, I promise. I’ll speak to Blovary. La Tata is gorgeous and I know you’re capable of more than pulling cabbage if someone takes the time to work with you.” He took my hand and pulled me to my feet.
“I can’t even do that,” I muttered. “Machyl said I tried to pull cabbage and ended up a slug crawling on the cabbage.”
“Fuck Giltie Conshens,” Marcus said, looking down at me. “I’m fucking sick and tired of dancing to her tune. And I’ve been shocked by the way that they have misused your talents ever since they took you in. Ellegrandé has been the most negligent drag mother I’ve ever seen.”
My shock must have been shown on my face, because he drew me close to him and wrapped his arms around me. “But you saw me,” I said to his chest. “You saw me choke out there. Machyl said I would never be allowed onto that stage again.”
Marcus tipped my head back to look at him. “You made one mistake,” he said. “You should never have been sent out there alone as a rookie. They set you up for failure, babes.” He leaned down and kissed me gently. “I’m not going to let that happen again.”
I wrapped my arms around his back and kissed him back, his hands on my face and shoulder. He broke the kiss to hold my face and look at me, smiling. “Let’s go now, okay? I’m going to give DT hell for what he put you through.” He stroked his hand down my cheek. “And I’m going to walk into that green room holding your hand, and fuck Duane if he has a problem with it.”
I smiled at him, feeling as if I had just been lifted onto a cloud of happiness and light.
He drew me closer and spoke into my ear. “And then I’m going to bring you back here,” he whispered. “And make love to you until you scream.”
A surge of feeling rushed through me, pain and relief and a strange twining sense of hope, and I reached my arms up around his neck and he met me halfway, our lips met and parted and my heart clenched hard like a fist.
When we broke apart, I found that I was smiling back at him. He took my hand and together we walked out of the kitchen, down the book case corridor and out the door of the apartment.
The sun was warm on the windows of the cab as it made its way through late afternoon traffic. Marcus was still holding my hand on the empty middle seat of the cab as we rode along.
“Anthony,” he said quietly, his eyes darting toward the front of the cab and the driver. “I just wanted to say something.”
“What?” I said, feeling a stab of alarm in my midriff. What could he have to say to me now?
“It’s, um. It’s about the—” his eyes darted toward the cab driver again and then turned back to me, and he mouthed some words which I couldn’t make out.
“What?” I said, confused.
He glanced at the cab driver again, then he rolled his eyes and motioned me forward. He leaned over and said into my ear. “It’s about the blow job,” he murmured.
I felt a spasm of panic in my chest. He must have realized from my over the top reactions last night and today that I had never put my cock in another man’s mouth before.
Oh, fuck.
How was he going to hold this over me? Laugh? A sarcastic jab? Had he figured out I had never been fucked before, either? I remembered the state I was in this afternoon, moaning and writhing, and the mortification spread through me. It must have been so obvious.
“What?” I whispered.
He glanced at me, then pulled me back and said into my ear, “I normally only do that with a— with a partner. An exclusive partner. You know. Deep-throating and swallowing.”
I looked at him, feeling my face heat up. So he regretted doing that, too. A painful wash of rejection came over me.
He grabbed me again and said into my ear. “I also really try to be good about condom use and I have been really consistent about it.”
I frowned, not understanding the connection. “You did use a condom,” I said, feeling even worse. It seemed like I couldn’t do anything right.
“I mean for blowjobs,” he murmured into my ear.
“Oh.” Of course I had read that in safe sex advice before, but I didn’t know people actually did it.
“I got tested last month,” he said into my ear. “I haven’t had sex since then. I get tested every three months.” He drew back and looked at me. “What about you?”
Shit. I wanted to sink through the floor of the cab and for it to drive on and leave me lying in the middle of the street.
“I, uh,” I said, something squirming uncomfortably in my chest. He had said he didn’t believe I was a virgin, after all. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
He frowned at me, a blush starting to creep across his face. “When did you last get tested?”
My face was on fire and my heart was beating like crazy as I tried to look anywhere but his face. “Uh—” I said, and I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut as I forced the lie out. “Last month, also.”
“Oh,” he said, blinking at me. “Okay,” he sat back, shaking his head. “Okay, that’s okay then.” He looked out the window.
“Is—is that okay?” I asked.
He turned back to me, shaking his head and raising his eyebrows. “Yeah, that’s fine, babes. I just wanted to—you know.”
“Yeah,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief as this seemed to have satisfied him. “Of course.”
“Yeah, it’s so important, you know,” he said, looking at me intently, “and I—I need to make sure I take care of myself.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding emphatically.
“I got a little, um,” he said, smiling a little and blushing harder. “Carried away.” He grinned. “You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered.
The
mortification was deepening within me into turmoil. “Thanks,” I said, trying to smile shyly.
He sighed, apparently in relief, and smiled. “Fuck it,” he said, glancing at the cab driver, and leaned forward and kissed me. “So…” he said. “Can we carry on in the same style, then?”
I looked back at him. Does he mean…? Last night in the shower flashed through me, the way he had pinned me against the tiles with my leg over his shoulder and looked up at me with his mouth full of me.
He looked a little anxious, a note of uncertainty had crept into his expression.
He wants me to say we’re exclusive…
Then he turned away, toward the window as if to hide his face. “It’s okay,” he muttered.
I didn’t know what to say. The fear erupted in me again, of walking into the club by myself. Was he angry?
“Marcus—” I said.
“No,” he said, not looking back from the window. “It’s obviously too soon. I thought—I was clearly mistaken. I’m the idiot. Just ignore me.”
“No—” I said, panicking. He was mad at me. Fuck, fuck, fuck! “I want to,” I said quickly.
He turned back toward me. His face was bright pink from his hairline to the collar of his t-shirt, and his eyes looked oddly bright, too. He said in a low voice, “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”
St Sebastian, why did you make my life this way?
“Yes,” I forced myself to say, even though the pain had started up in my chest again. I felt the twining ray of hope from earlier start up again along with a sense of relief, but I didn’t know why. I forced my mouth into a smile. “Yes,” I said again, because he didn’t seem convinced.
His pink face turned brick red as he burst into a grin and hugged me across the empty seat. “Okay,” he said, kissing me as if the cab driver wasn’t there at all.
And as I hugged him back and felt his lips on mine, I wished I wasn’t there, either.
Monday Meeting
Marcus pressed the doorbell and we waited in the alley where I had seen Damaris kissing him over a year ago. He was holding my hand, his thumb running over the soft skin of my fingers.
He had paid for the cab without asking, which had been a relief, because I was down to my last twenty and change, and I had only found that after digging through all of the drawers in my bedroom, mamá’s bedroom and the entrance hall.
The door buzzed and Marcus pushed it open and stepped inside. The moment I got in there, the scent of Consuela’s floor cleaning products hit me and seemed to go straight into the pit of my stomach. Straight into the pit of my void.
Oh, no.
The despair rose in me like scented smoke through the rafters of a church. Please, no. I tightened my grip on Marcus’ hand and he squeezed back. But I was opening up inside, infinity stretching out, vast, empty and lightless. I pulled Marcus toward me, raised my hands around his neck and clung on tight.
“Babes…” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around me.
I stood up on my toes and kissed him, sucking in his breath and twining my tongue around his. He held me tightly, lifting me up a little, making a little sound in the back of his throat.
See? It’s okay. I have Marcus now. I didn’t need to worry about anything. Marcus would take care of it.
I backed up against the wall next to the door and Marcus leaned against me, lifting my thigh next to his hip and sliding his hand under my shirt. I hooked my other leg around his calf so he was nestled in the cradle of my hips. He held one hand on the back of my neck and ran his tongue against mine over and over.
I could move to London. I had been in New York for seven years. That was long enough. What did I have to gain by staying here?
You have whored yourself out to first john who came along.
Shut the fuck up, Damaris!
As if she could lecture me on what I should do. She slept with Marcus even though she knew he liked her for her dick. I wasn’t about to start taking lessons from such a hypocrite.
“I get hard the moment you touch me,” he breathed, grinning at me and smoothing my hair down with both his hands.
I slipped my fingers under his t-shirt and dipped my fingertips into his waistband, bit my lip and smiled at him.
At that moment, cold air rushed over us both as Machyl Mostroso Lyons walked in through the door. I saw his shocked face and wide eyes in the split second before he masked his expression into the cool, slick smile of a snake.
Machyl paused, bringing his hip up to meet his hand and cocking his head to one side. “Oh really, now?”
Marcus didn’t move, didn’t spring away from me, didn’t let me go. He had me against the wall with my legs wrapped around him and my arms around his neck, and all he did was look back at Machyl with one eyebrow quirked. “Really.”
And then Marcus leaned down and kissed me slowly while Machyl stood there, watching for two or three seconds, and then kicked the door shut with his foot, which made me jump, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice. I listened to Machyl walk past us and down the hall to the dressing room door, which he slammed behind him.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Mindless panic seized me. I grabbed Marcus. “Let’s go. Let’s go now.” I blathered. “Let’s go to London. We can go—tonight—”
My mind was racing. I knew what I could do for money. I had gone into the guest bedroom after Damaris left. She had left behind all the clothes we had bought yesterday. The only clothes she had taken were the ones she was wearing, the leggings, sports bra and the silk bomber jacket. I’ll return them. That would give me enough to buy a plane ticket and I could make the rest of the credit stretch for a while once I got to London.
“Babes, what are you talking about?” Marcus said.
“It will be so romantic,” I said, trying to think how to make it seem appealing to him. He wanted this, this was one of the first things he had said to me after he told me he liked me. “We can go to London. Get a little place together,” I smoothed my hands over his pecs. “Explore the museums. I love that Natural History one.” I tried to make my eyes big and cute as I looked up at him. “Please?”
“Anthony, I want to confront DT about all of this. You deserve to see justice for the way they’ve treated you. And I want to make it clear to him how much I disagree with his restrictions on dating in-house.” His eyes softened. “I know you’re scared of Duane Tyrone.” His fingers ran along my jaw line. “But I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you.” He leaned forward and kissed me tenderly. Then with a decisive movement, he let me down, took my hand and started marching me toward the door to the dressing room.
Oh, sweet St Sebastian.
I was going to have a heart attack. I just knew it. I dragged behind Marcus as he pushed his way through the dressing room door.
The familiar slight musty smell of costumes mixed with the powdery scent of make up hit me, bringing back memories of so many hours getting dressed up in here, doing make up and hair. I had enjoyed that so much. Just getting pretty, without the pressure of performing or trying to please the men in the front of house.
The dressing room was empty apart from us, neat and clean except for my workstation, which was exactly as I had left it on Thursday night, exactly as it had been on Friday afternoon when I heard Marcus and Damaris in the closet, my make up and brushes spread around and used cotton balls and wipes everywhere.
My heart rate increased with each step we took toward the green room until I prayed to have a heart attack so I wouldn’t need to face what was waiting for me in there.
Marcus opened the door to the green room and I followed him inside. Duane Tyrone was sitting on the couch on the far side of the coffee table, taking up half of it. Machyl was perched on the arm of the other couch which was arranged at right angles to it, close to the door.
The walls were painted a light mint green and the stained carpet on the floor, threadbare in many spots from years of use, had once been deep forest green. There was a stainless steel thermos j
ug on the chipped coffee table as well as a number of mugs and a plate of store-bought chocolate chip cookies.
“Look who’s early,” Duane Tyrone said softly, his eyes on Marcus’ and my joined hands as I came through the door and stood next to Marcus, who had come to a stop in front of the coffee table facing the two couches. “It’s barely gone six-thirty.”
“Duane,” Marcus said, “we have some things to discuss with you.”
DT’s eyebrows settled down over his eyes ominously. “Sit down.”
“I don’t think so,” Marcus said.
Duane Tyrone’s eyebrows flew to his hairline and his eyes grew round. “’Scuse me?”
A high, fluting laugh interrupted the silence that followed this pronouncement. I was standing slightly behind Marcus and I peered around him to look at Machyl, who was now sitting on the back of the couch with his feet on the armrest, laughing with his hands over his stomach as if he had never heard anything so funny in his life.
DT turned to Machyl, eyebrows still reaching for his hairline and just sat there silently, staring at him.
Machyl stopped laughing so abruptly, he couldn’t have been laughing for real. He leapt off the couch and bounded over to DT’s couch, hopped up onto the seat next to him and draped himself over DT’s side with one arm around his shoulder.
“Miss Ellegrandé,” he said, his eyes on Marcus, then sliding to me. I dropped my gaze the minute his searching eyes hit mine. “I think the lovers have some news to share with you.”
Duane Tyrone turned to Machyl, then back to Marcus and I.
Marcus let go of my hand, raised one finger and pointed it at Machyl. “You.”
Machyl pursed his lips and then smiled, making his lips into a strange little grimace while fluttering his eyelids. He touched his fingertips together and laid them underneath his chin and looked at Marcus over them. “Yes, Bone China?”
“I know what this is about,” Marcus said, his chest heaving.
I looked up at him in alarm. His face was rapidly turning the same red shade as when he’d asked me to be his boyfriend in the cab. What? What’s going on?
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