by T. J. Klune
“Uh,” Brian said. “I’m not really into—”
“Hush, boo,” I said. “I’m talking. That means you shouldn’t be.”
“Okay.” Brian helped himself to more bacon with his free hand.
“You don’t even know him,” Darren said.
“Of course I do,” I said. “What, you think I’d find a complete stranger and bring him home and fuck him? I’m not you.”
“What’s his last name, then?” Darren asked.
“Landers.”
“Uh,” Brian said. “My last name is Jones.”
“Same thing,” I said dismissively before glaring back at Darren. “And what about you? What’s his last name?”
Darren flushed a little. He mumbled something under his breath.
“Sorry? Didn’t catch that.”
“He… doesn’t have one. It’s a modeling thing.”
“A modeling thing?” I said. “A modeling thing? So, when he was born, his mother looked down at him and saw ridiculous cheekbones and thought, hmm, my child will grow up to model footlong sandwiches, so he should have one name only. Oh, and that name should be Octavius, because why the hell not.”
“Do you know my mother?” Octavius asked, looking spooked.
“I often find myself in these situations,” Corey said.
“And what situations would those be, dear?” Nana asked.
“Confusing,” Corey said. “Hilarious, but confusing. I blame the people I surround myself with. Sometimes, I wonder why I don’t regret my life choices more than I do.”
“I’m not saying you have to have them right this second,” Larry argued. “I just think it’s good to plan ahead.”
“But what if we have a daughter and she’s popular and all the boys want to come to her yard?” Vince sounded irate. “I’m going to have to buy a shotgun just to scare them off. I don’t even know where to shop for shotguns! Is there one brand better than another? Can I get two of them?”
“Oh dear god,” Paul groaned. “How is this my life? We’re not even married, for fuck’s sake. Why are we even talking about this?”
“Because the heart wants what the heart wants,” Larry said. “And the heart wants grandbabies. Preferably not born out of wedlock, either. How can I explain to my grandkids why their daddies don’t love each other enough to get married?”
“Paul,” Vince said, eyes wide. “We can’t have bastard children.”
“I blame you for this,” Paul told his father.
“How did you and Darren meet?” Matty asked Octavius. “You seem to be very… close.”
And they did. Very, very close. Because Octavius was trying to climb into Darren’s lap. Darren, for his part, looked supremely irritated and kept trying to shove Octavius back to his own seat. I had to give the twink credit. He certainly was tenacious.
“Yes, Octavius,” I said sweetly. “How did you and Darren meet?”
Darren glared at me.
I winked at him.
Brian tried to pull his hand away.
I held it tighter.
“It was meant to be,” Octavius said, affecting an accent that was either a really terrible French or a really good Danish. I couldn’t tell which. “I looked across the club and our eyes met and then the music swelled and I felt this pull toward him, you know? I didn’t believe in magic until last night. But now I do because he has magic hands.”
“Oh dear god,” I choked out. “That’s so special. You’re very lucky.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Darren grumbled.
“Of course it was.” Octavius rubbed his nose against Darren’s cheek. “I told you my name and you told me you didn’t care, but I could see that you did. Deep inside. There was just this connection, you know?”
“You’re so lucky,” I told Darren. “To have found that connection. Tell me, Darren. How connected did you feel? Mine was carnal, but yours seems to be deeply spiritual.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “How about you and Brian? Please, enlighten us as to how the two of you met. I’m curious how Brian found himself here this morning with us. Eating brunch.”
That bastard. I turned to look at Brian and tried to fix what I assumed would be a loving gaze on him and said, “Well, it’s certainly not as magical as the two of you, but—”
“I hadn’t had sex with a drag queen,” Brian said. “So we had shots and then Helena blew me in the men’s bathroom and then we—ow. Sandy, you’re squeezing my hand really hard—”
“And so I am,” I said, slamming back another mimosa. “Oops.”
“Wow,” Darren said. “I see that you’re keeping it classy as always.”
“Like you would know anything about class,” I snapped at him. “How many warnings have you gotten against fucking someone at Jack It?”
He arched an eyebrow. It wasn’t devastating in the slightest. “Seven.”
“This is just like my telenovela Reina de Corazones,” Nana said excitedly. “There are beautiful people, intrigue, and someone with a mustache is about to get slapped. Except… no one… here has… a mustache. Huh. That’s what disappointment tastes like. Palpable.”
“Is that the one with the hot guy from that one thing that had all the people doing the stuff and things?” Corey asked.
“Exactly,” Nana said. “You’re so good at remembering hot guys. It’s like you have a superpower.”
“It’s my gift,” Corey said. “But it’s also my curse. With great power comes great hot guys.”
“Your life is hard.”
“It really is.”
“Speaking of hot guys,” Nana said, “you’re going to have to start watching Tierra de Reyes with me as well. It has hot Mexican cowboy brothers whose smolder makes me muy caliente in my pantalones.”
“I like hot Mexican cowboy brothers,” Corey said. “And hot pants. Or whatever you just said.”
“I know, dear,” Nana said. “We all do. It’s the horses. And the chaps. And the mustaches.”
“And then we’ll have to move to a bigger house,” Vince said to no one in particular. “Probably one that has three or four bedrooms because we’ll have to have a girl and a boy and then a gender-fluid child who can make up their own mind as to what they want to be when they grow up.”
“How progressive,” Corey said.
Paul rolled his eyes. “This is what happens when he accidentally watches documentaries on Netflix while trying to find episodes of Family Guy. Three weeks ago, he thought gender-fluidity meant co-ed synchronized swimming.”
“Better accidental gender-fluidity than none at all,” Corey said.
“You’ve broken him,” Paul said to Larry. “You’ve broken my boyfriend. I just got him how I wanted him and now you’re trying to mess with his settings. Do you know how much work I had to put into this? Like, over a year.”
“You want children,” Larry whispered to Vince. “You want to have so many children. You want them to call me Pappy and you want to do it soon. Listen to my voice, Vince, and only my—”
“Larry,” Matty said. “Stop trying to brainwash Vince. You’re upsetting Paul. You know how shrill he gets when he’s upset. Honestly.”
“I don’t get shrill,” Paul said shrilly.
“See?” Matty said. “Octavius and Brian, please ignore this whole thing. We’re not normally like this.”
“That’s not true at all,” Nana said. “This is normal for this family. I blame Instagram. No one cares about photos of your spinach and kale salad, you hipsters.”
“How unfortunate,” Octavius said, once again British. “Especially given all the pulp. And the trans fats. Though, I suppose if you’re going to be a commoner, you might as well eat like one.”
“Lovely,” I said. “You’re just lovely. Darren, I can see why you picked him.”
“Brian,” Darren said, “I didn’t think you were the dating type.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I—”
“—just couldn’t resist,” I said, kicking him
under the table. “You know how it is. Sometimes you just click.”
“So much bodily harm,” Brian muttered with a wince. “But, uh, yeah. Clicked. We clicked.”
“So you’re dating now,” Darren said flatly.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far,” I said. “We’re taking it day by day.”
“Help me,” Brian whispered to Corey.
“Not even if you begged me,” Corey said. “I had to walk in and see your balls this morning. I was not prepared for morning balls. It’s something I have to work my way up to.”
“I saw them too,” Paul said. “They looked smooth.”
“I shave regularly.” Brian shrugged as Vince glared at him.
“It’s fine.” Paul kissed Vince on the cheek. “I like yours the best.”
Vince looked particularly smug at that. As he rightly should.
“This has been just wonderful,” Nana said. “I’m so glad we’re not one of those boring families who get together and talks about real issues like Ebola or Jesus.”
“I feel like so much has happened,” Matty said. “New friends, models, sexual acts described about people I’ve come to think of as my children and I really, really regret hearing about. All before noon on the Lord’s day. I could use a nap.”
“Maybe have like four or five kids,” Larry said to Vince. “You could start your own band or trapeze artist troupe. The Awesomely Amazing Austers. Because you would have to take Paul’s last name as a sign of love and trust to your submissive. Also, your children would need to have the Auster name as we came from a long line of German peanut farmers and we need to honor them because we’re all nuts.”
Matty snickered. “My handsome comedian.”
“Four or five?” Vince squeaked. “How would we feed them all?”
“With the peanuts,” Larry said, like it was obvious.
“Great,” Paul said. “Now he’s going to freak out for the rest of the day. Thanks, Dad.”
“Darren,” Octavius said, trying to curl up against him again. “What say we get out of here and go look at my portfolio? I have black-and-white nudes in dramatic lighting because the photographer said my body was a wonderland.”
“Yes,” I said. “Because quoting John Mayer seems like something you would do.”
“Why did you throw the money back in my face last night?” Darren asked me unexpectedly.
I sneered at him. “I didn’t need your fucking charity. I know that for what it was. You homo jocks think you’re so fucking superior.”
“Uh, Sandy?” Brian asked. “I would really like my hand back now. I think you’re splintering my bones.”
“It has been lovely indeed,” Corey said. “We should do this again more often. Next time, we should all bring a new friend.”
“I don’t know if I want my one-night stands here,” Nana said. “As the lovely Usher put it, I’m a lady in the streets but a freak in the bed.”
Darren furrowed his brow at me. “Charity? What the fuck are you talking about? This has never been about charity. I wanted to—”
And I never got to hear what Darren wanted to do, because right at that exact moment, Vince Taylor said, “Marry me.”
And all the noise.
Just.
Stopped.
It was like the air had been sucked from the room and we were stuck in a vacuum. My heart tripped all over itself in my chest and Paul’s hands were shaking, and I might have said something, I might have tried to play it off like a joke, but Vince’s jaw was set and his eyes were only on Paul. He reached out and took Paul’s hands in his own, thumb rubbing over his fingers.
Matty clutched her hands to her chest, eyes suspiciously shiny.
Larry looked back and forth between Vince and Paul, a grin on his face, probably already counting the amount of grandchildren he would get from this.
Nana wiped her eyes.
Corey held a hand over his mouth.
Brian ate more bacon.
Wheels yawned from his spot on the couch.
Darren stared at Vince, eyes wide.
Octavius looked really fucking bored.
And Paul Auster said, “What?”
“Marry me,” Vince said again.
“Are you being serious?” Paul demanded.
“Uhh,” Vince said.
“Because I swear to god, Vince.”
“Uhh,” Vince said. “Yes.”
“This is so amazing,” I said to Brian.
“This isn’t just you freaking out about the whole kid thing?”
“Uhh,” Vince said. “No.”
“I was there the day they met,” I said to Corey.
“And you’ve actually thought this through?”
“Uhh,” Vince said. “Mostly.”
Paul’s face softened and he got that look he had every now and then, the one where you could tell he was thinking about just how lucky he was to have Vince. I just hoped Vince knew how lucky he was to have Paul. “You don’t have to do this, baby,” he said. “If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this right now.”
“I bought you a ring.” Vince scratched the back of his neck. “Like, five weeks ago.”
“You what?” Paul shrieked.
“I did not see that coming,” Nana said. “Well played, sir.”
“I was going to do it next week,” Vince said to Paul. “I was going to take you back to where you hit me with your car.”
“I didn’t hit you with my car!” Paul said. “You ran into the door! Everyone knows you’re the one at fault!”
“It’s okay,” Vince said, taking Paul’s hand back in his own. “We’ll have the rest of our lives to work through the vehicular assault you put me through while trying to woo me.”
“I wasn’t wooing. There was no wooing.”
Vince rolled his eyes. “Right. Because it wasn’t part of your master plan to get me alone in your house while high on painkillers.”
“It wasn’t. I wouldn’t even think like that.”
“You made me strip for you.”
“You took off your clothes all by yourself!”
Vince grinned at him. “I love you, Paul.”
“Oh sweat balls,” Paul said weakly. “You’re being totally serious, aren’t you.”
“Yeah,” Vince said. “I don’t think I’ve been more serious in my life. Well, not since I was seven and was convinced I would grow up to either be Batman or Lion-O from Thundercats.”
“Fun fact,” I said. “That was the first TV show I ever got an erection from.”
Paul turned to gape at me.
“Still drunk.” I grimaced in apology. “It wouldn’t be a problem if you two would hurry up, though. Jesus. How long does a proposal take? Say yes so we can freak out.”
“Paul,” Vince said with renewed determination.
“Vince,” Paul said faintly.
“I love you. And maybe I should have waited until later, but if we’re going to have nine kids—”
“We’re having nine what!”
“Yesss,” Larry hissed.
“—then I can’t imagine a better time,” Vince said. “We’re here in front of our friends and family… and Darren’s and Sandy’s one-night stands.”
“This is the most awkward brunch I’ve ever attended,” Octavius said.
“It could have been more awkward,” Corey said. “Trust me, I would know. I’ve had experience. There needed to be wine for it to go completely what-the-fuck.”
“So,” Vince said, voice a little wobbly, “what I’m trying to ask is… Paul Auster, will you marry me?”
We all held our breaths.
“Yeah,” Paul said hoarsely. “Yes. Yes, please. I would like that. Now. Let’s go do this now. Please.”
The smile on Vince’s face was breathtaking as he pulled Paul in for a deep kiss.
I think no one was more surprised than I when I burst into tears.
Alcohol and best friends getting engaged do not mix.
“Is there any m
ore bacon?” Brian asked.
“You’ve eaten like a pound of it!” I sobbed. “There’s no more fucking bacon.”
It was truly a wonderful brunch.
(Except for Brian.)
(And Octavius.)
(And Darren, but that shouldn’t even need to be mentioned. Right? Because it’s obvious. I mean, obviously I wouldn’t want Darren there for any reason. Ever.)
Chapter 6: Nick Carter Is Jamaican Me Crazy
“SO,” PAUL told me at lunch the following Tuesday, “we’re thinking about a spring wedding.”
I was admiring his ring, a thin platinum band that showed Vince had far more taste than I ever gave him credit for. It was flashy, but not overtly so. Vince obviously knew what he was doing. Apparently, according to Paul, no one knew, not even Darren. Sneaky man, that one was. This was the first time I was seeing it, given that Paul had called in sick to the office yesterday, claiming he’d come down with a twenty-four-hour virus, which really meant he and Vince were having just-got-engaged monkey sex. I loved them both dearly, but there were some things I really didn’t want to think about, especially since I still had yet to recover from the sex dream. Paul had tried to tell me about how Vince was a big fan of rimming, but there was just something off about hearing my best friend talk about getting his butthole licked.
“Hmm?” I said, distracted by the shiny. “That’s good. Gives a nice, long engagement because surely you don’t mean this spring, which is only like five months away. Because that would just be ridiculous, given that there is clearly not enough time to put together the wedding I deserve for you to have. Right, Paul?”
“Uh,” Paul said. “Have I said how pretty you look today? So pretty.”
I looked up at him and gripped his hand tightly. “Right, Paul?”
He looked nervous as the waitress came back to our table, bringing us our salads. I noticed Paul’s had far less fried chicken in it than he normally got. (“Paul, that’s not as healthy as you’re making it out to be.” “It’s green. There are tomatoes.”) “Watching our figure?” I asked lightly.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to lose a few pounds before the wedding.”