by T. J. Klune
Paul rolled his eyes. “You hide behind Helena and I’m fat. We really don’t do ‘secure enough.’”
“Never leave me,” I demanded.
“Never,” he promised. “Now, tell me.”
It hurt, a little (maybe even more than a little), to lie to him. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know? What’s the point of getting riled up over something that’s not going to last?” That was… as close to the truth as I could get. And as close as I wanted it to be. Anything more seemed like it would reveal things I didn’t even want to think about.
“Sandy,” Paul said, shaking his head. “Darren’s wanted you forever. Just because he slept with everything that had a pulse doesn’t really change that. Sure that looks bad and you should probably get him tested for chlamydia before having sex again, but he actually cares about you. More than I think he knows what to do with. Why do you think it took him this long to finally act on it? And don’t deny it, either. I know he’s the one that came to you. I’m just surprised you agreed so quickly.”
“How do you know?” I asked, wondering why my voice sounded hoarse.
“Do you really think anybody else would have told the ridiculous story with you about how you two got together?”
“You would have,” I said.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “That’s because I love you.”
“I know,” I said. “So why would—oh.” Well, shit. “He doesn’t love me. Are you out of your mind?”
“Okay, so maybe it’s not love. Not yet. Not everyone can be my parents.”
“Or you and Vince.”
“Yeah, it’s genetic, I think. But Darren cares about you, Sandy. I know he does.”
Resolve… weakening. “He’s a bit of a dick,” I said, flailing for something.
Paul rolled his eyes. “Well it’s a good thing you’re a bottom, because you’re an asshole, so the two of you fit together just fine.”
“Wow,” I said. “That was a thing of beauty.”
Paul looked rather pleased with himself. “Thank you. Wordplay is just like foreplay. You have to just ease into it a little—”
“Yeah, you’re losing me now.”
“Right. So. No shoes are dropping. Darren thinks you’re super cool.”
“Great, so now we’re twelve.”
“Sandy.”
“Yeah, sorry. Deflecting is like a reflex.”
“Get angry!”
“Whoa there. That’s why I’m in therapy so I don’t do that anymore.”
“Sandy!”
“Fine! Grr. I’m angry.”
“You don’t look angry.”
I bared my teeth.
“Okay, that’s a little better. Are you going to let that twink trash hit on your man?”
“No.”
“I can’t hear you!”
“No!”
“What are you going to do!”
“I’m not going to let him hit on my man!”
“And how are you gonna do that?”
“I’m gonna march right out there and give him a piece of my mind!”
“Damn right! And then what’re you gonna do?”
“And then I’m going to murder the twink trash and bury his body in a shallow grave in the desert where the coyotes and javelinas will eventually get to it and pick it clean and maybe his sun-bleached bones will be discovered like, ten years from now, but it won’t matter because all physical evidence will have dissipated in the summer sun and the monsoon rains! I will have gotten away with it. It’s the perfect goddamn crime and it begins this night.”
“Holy shit,” Paul breathed. “I was going to say just kiss Darren or something. Dude. That was dark. You’re dark.”
“Kiss him?” I screeched. “Why the hell would I kiss him?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Paul asked, confused. “He’s your boyfriend.”
“Because he’s—oh. Wait. Right. Riiiight. Okay. Okay. I see where you’re going with this. That’s just. I don’t. Um. Just.” I’m pretty sure my synapses were misfiring. And my nipples were hard. I didn’t know how those two things were related but that they had to be since they were both happening at the same time. I felt aroused and confused. It was like I was twelve again and standing in front of the men’s underwear section at Kmart, looking at the headless torsos on the Hanes packages and wondering why I was getting sweaty.
“Are you sure he hasn’t kidnapped you?” Paul asked, starting to get suspicious again.
“Yeah,” I said, my brain slightly scrambled from the thought of kissing Darren Mayne. “Sure. I think you’d look lovely in a toga at my taco party next Easter. You know what they say, Togas for Jesus will always please us.”
“Oh no,” Paul whispered. “I broke you.”
I WENT into the restroom as Mamma Mia! Meryl Streep. I came out as The River Wild Meryl. That’s the one where Kevin Bacon was an evil douchebag and tried to ruin the Streep family rafting trip and Meryl got all badass and killed him. Or something. I hadn’t seen that movie in a really long time, I just knew that Meryl was badass in it and I was badass now, therefore I was The River Wild Meryl. This Meryl would never allow twinkie waiter trash to get up on her man right in front of her. In fact, this Meryl would probably have his balls for the main course if he even tried such a thing. I wished I was wearing river-rafting clothes, but then I realized I didn’t own any, so I was going to have to make do with what I had on.
Besides, if Meryl Streep could eat a waiter’s balls for dinner, then so could I. It didn’t matter what we wore.
Helena was happy with the threat of violence.
Santiago was at the table, almost in Darren’s lap. Vince looked annoyed. Corey looked murderous. Darren looked uncomfortable, craning his neck back looking toward us. The moment he saw me, his eyes softened and there was something there. Something that looked like relief. Like he knew what was coming.
I couldn’t let him down.
He was my fake boyfriend.
Helena was displeased with the twink. She loved them, because twinks could be wonderful.
But sometimes, certain twinks needed to be taught their place.
Santiago wasn’t even paying attention to me as we came back to the table, fixated on Darren, telling him some story about blah, blah, blah, his hands on Darren’s, tugging at his fingers, looking all wide-eyed and innocent, even though we could all see the slut simmering just underneath the facade.
“Darren,” I said, my voice huskier than normal. “Is everything all right?” I walked behind him, my fingers trailing along his shoulders and the back of his neck. He shuddered minutely, but enough for me to catch it.
“Fine.” He glanced over at me as I stood above him. “Where’d you—”
“Santiago,” I said. “A little word of advice, if I may.”
“Advice,” he repeated. “From you.”
“Yes. From me.”
“No offense,” he said with a grimace. “But I don’t need advice from you. Darren, as I was—”
I snapped my hand out and held his jaw, turning his face toward me. The grip was tight enough that he couldn’t pull away easily, but not so tight that I’d bruise his pretty skin. Not yet, anyway. “It’s only polite to listen when your betters are speaking, little chicken. Are you going to listen?” He nodded as my thumb brushed along his jaw. “Good, baby doll. That was the right answer. Now. As I was saying. A bit of advice for you. You’re gorgeous. You’re young. You probably can come five or six times in a single night. You look like you don’t even have to pluck your eyebrows, and that’s nice. That’s all well and good. But, sweetheart, one day, that’s all going to fade and you are going to be left with nothing but a shriveled dick, a raging case of herpes, and a unibrow that will threaten to eat your face. And that’s okay too. It happens to the best of us. Though, in your case, it’ll probably be sweet karmic justice for all the shit you’ve pulled. So you can fuck your way through life all you want. I’m not
here to judge you in that regard. If that makes you happy, then by all means. As long as you are safe about it, I won’t cast a stone at you.” My grip tightened. His skin dimpled. “However, if you ever put your hands on Vince again, I will come back for you. You don’t want that. If you ever talk shit about Paul again, I will come back for you. You really don’t want that. And if you ever touch my boyfriend again without explicit consent, I will break every one of your fingers until the bones poke through your skin. Then I’ll break them again. Are we clear on that, baby doll? Do we have an understanding?”
He tried to speak, but my grip wouldn’t let him.
“Just a simple yes or no will do.”
He nodded.
“Good,” I said. I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his cheek. “I’m glad we could have this little chat. Now, find our table another waiter and I don’t want to see you again for the rest of the night. If Paul and Vince should decide to come back here, you will not serve them. In fact, you will not even have any contact with them.” I let him go. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have some urgent business to attend to.”
I turned and reached back, fisting the back of Darren’s head, pulling his head back. He swallowed thickly, eyes dark. I didn’t even think twice about it when I pressed my lips against his. His mouth was hot against mine as I worked him over, swallowing his groan as my tongue brushed against his lips. I thought to push it deeper, but I didn’t, even when I felt his hand come up and hold my thigh, anchoring me in place as he strained for more, trying to open his mouth to let me in. This wasn’t real. It was an act. This whole thing was fake. It was—
Shit.
It was the best goddamn kiss I’d ever had.
I pulled back.
His lips were wet.
His pupils were blown.
His hand gripped my thigh.
I had to stop myself from leaning back in again, because what the fuck.
“Sandy,” Corey said. “Don’t take this the wrong way. But you seriously just gave me an erection.”
I tore my gaze away from Darren, trying to control my breathing. “Yes, well. I’ve been known to do that for many a man.”
Corey laughed. Paul and Vince did too.
Darren didn’t, though. Not even a smile.
And for the rest of the night, there was hardly a moment when he looked away from me.
I was in such deep shit.
Chapter 12: Hitting Girl Scouts in the Face with Dildos
ANYTIME I saw Darren’s name on my caller ID, I was still surprised, even a couple of weeks later. Not because he was calling me, but that the overwhelming feelings of derision and disdain that I normally associated with Darren were slowly giving way to something else that I couldn’t be bothered to examine too closely, given that I was a great believer in the age-old idea of Avoiding Something Until It Blows Up In Your Face. And since these feelings were starting to resemble the need to have Darren blow something on my face, I found it easier to ignore them altogether.
And so, yes, I was still surprised whenever Darren called or texted me. I’d only seen him a few times since I’d kissed him in front of everyone. It was usually on a Wednesday or Saturday while I was performing at Jack It, and we were never alone. Halloween had come and gone, but I’d taken the night off, allowing one of the other queens to handle the show. Given that I’d run the Halloween performance for the last five years, I figured I’d earned a break. I was getting too old for this shit.
Mike hadn’t pushed anything further when it came to the bar and our plan. In fact, I’d only seen him once since that day in his trailer, and it was only to tell me his lawyers were still negotiating with the county. He didn’t ask about my progress, and I didn’t tell him. It was starting to feel slightly skeevy, but I remembered why I was doing it.
Because of the children.
Or something.
So there I was, sitting on the couch after a ridiculously long day at work where I realized that working in a cubicle handling claims for an insurance company was probably stifling my very soul (or, at the very least, causing erectile dysfunction), listening to Corey talk about his ridiculously attractive professor who he apparently was swooning over (“I’m not swooning, Sandy!”), when my phone beeped.
I sighed when I saw who had texted.
But even I could tell that it came out as fond rather than exasperated.
Got a minute?
Corey laughed at me. “Is it your lovah?”
“No,” I said. “It’s my pastor. I’m having an existential crisis and need guidance.”
“Sure. Guidance right into your butthole.”
“Corey,” I said, appalled. “Apologize to God and Jesus. You know how they get when you talk about gay sex. Offended. Offended is how they get. My word. Guard your mortal soul, boy.”
“It’s weird,” he said as I started to type out a response.
“What is?” Sure, what’s up? I sent the message.
“You,” he said. “Darren. This whole… thing.”
I looked back up at him. “Why is it weird?”
He shrugged. “You were smiling at your phone. You were smiling because of Darren.”
I scowled at him. “I was not. I don’t smile because of him.” That thought alone was just ridiculous. And even if I was, it was because of a farce. I was just too good at my role.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “Deny all you want. But I see right through you. He makes you happy.”
“Barely.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Barely.”
“I am surprised, though.”
“About?” I wondered if I threw the TV remote at his head, we would stop having this conversation. I had to remind myself that I couldn’t always use violence to get out of a situation, no matter how much I wanted to. My life was hard.
“That you caved so quickly. I honestly though there was going to be weeks, if not months, of absurd back and forth between the two of you. I had already started making plans to trap you two in Corey’s Patented Sex Dungeon just to get it over with.”
“That wouldn’t have worked on me,” I said, somewhat appalled that he thought I’d be that easy.
“Right.” He rolled his eyes. “Tyson said the same thing. And yet, almost ten years of pining gone after one night in my sex dungeon.”
“I don’t think that’s quite what happened.”
“Pretty much,” he said. “They were cuddling. You saw it.”
My phone beeped again. Call you?
I frowned. I knew that Darren was going to be putting the feelers out to speak to his father, but I hadn’t heard much more than that. I didn’t want to push him because I knew how sensitive it could be, regardless of what Darren said. It was a tricky situation, and if my morals weren’t already firmly planted in shades of gray, I probably would have backed out of this days ago, or not even agreed to it at all. But here we were, entrenched in a ridiculous plot that only a few people knew about. And here I was, keenly aware that avoidance was going to be getting harder and harder to do.
Sure, I wrote back.
Okay, give me a few.
“You have that study group tonight?” I asked Corey.
He arched an eyebrow at me. “Why? Kicking me out so you can have the sex?”
“Gross. Yes.”
“Gross,” he said. “Fine. I can go a little early. But I better not come home to find any wet spots on the walls or my bed.”
“They’ll be drenched,” I reassured him as he stood from the sofa. “I’m going to do such disgusting things on your sheets.”
He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek before grabbing his bag and keys and heading out the door.
“Make good choices!” I called after him and he laughed. I heard his car start up outside, and he pulled away.
A couple of minutes later, the phone rang.
“Is this where you fake break up with me?” I asked him instead of a normal greeting.
He snorted. “N
ah. Not yet. You’re fake stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”
That shouldn’t have made my heart flutter as it did. It was really rather disgusting. I told myself it was probably more due to an arrhythmia than Darren. I made a mental note to make an appointment with a heart specialist to make sure I wasn’t dying. “Lucky me,” I said lightly.
“So I may have done something bad,” he said.
I gripped the phone tightly. “Oh? Who did you screw now? Was he at least eighteen?”
“Oh fuck you,” he snapped. “I didn’t have sex with anyone. I told you I wouldn’t and I haven’t.”
“Good for you,” I said, because we were back on even ground. Bickering and sniping at each other was the only real thing I knew how to do with Darren. Everything else was too unclear. “I’m glad that you’ve been able to go a few weeks without fucking something.”
“Are you always this difficult?”
“Yes. Yes, I am. Reconsidering yet?”
“Not even a little bit,” he said. “I’m in this for the long haul.”
I closed my eyes and made sure my breathing was even. “For reasons you won’t tell me.”
“It’s a rule,” he taunted me. “You started them, after all.”
“New rule,” I said. “Shut up.”
“You’re the epitome of maturity.”
“At least I have hair on my balls, unlike your usual conquests.”
“Really,” he said. “You think you’re my conquest? Huh. I didn’t know—”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Right. Of course it wasn’t. But now I know you’ve got a bush.”
“I don’t have a bush. I am waxed and manscaped by a professional once a month. Mai Ling does a phenomenal job and I leave satisfied.” And I really wish I hadn’t said all that.
“Seriously?”
“Uh, yeah. Obviously. I am a classy broad, you know.”
“Sure. The classy broad talking about the hair on his balls.”
“You started it!”
He laughed. “I don’t think that I did. I just called you to tell you some news.”
“Bad news,” I reminded him.
“No. I didn’t say it was bad news. I said I did something bad. It’s not necessarily bad news. Well. Depending on how you look at it.”