by T. J. Klune
“No one does,” I replied, pushing my way through the throngs of men. “It’s part of the mystique.”
“It’s a drag queen thing,” I heard Paul tell Vince behind me. “They can pretty much make anything up and say it’s part of their mystique. Everyone else just has to go with it.”
“Can you have mystique without being a drag queen?” Vince asked.
“No,” Paul said.
“I never get to have anything.” Vince pouted.
“That’s a flat-out lie,” I said over my shoulder. “You get to have that ass.”
“It is a pretty good ass,” Paul agreed. “Also, stop staring at my fiancé’s ass.”
“Fiancé,” Vince sighed dreamily.
“Gross,” I muttered as we made it to the patio relatively unmolested.
There had to be close to a hundred people in front of us, but it was easy to spot the homo jocks standing at the top of the raised patio near the back, like royalty above their subjects. Darren stood there with Biff and Chet and Xerxes (I still hadn’t learned their names, what an awful fake boyfriend I was) flanking him. Brian was there too, standing slightly off to the side, drinking a beer, eyeing the crowd below them. I knew the exact moment he spotted me, his eyes brightening and a wide grin forming on his handsome face. He nudged Darren and pointed over at me.
And yes, there was Darren. Standing there like he didn’t have a care in the world.
And next to him, was a twink.
He wasn’t the most twinkish of twinks I’d ever seen, though I am sure he would have been right at home talking into a camera about how he hadn’t really tried anything with a guy before, but he was willing to give it the ol’ college try, and then somehow deep-throating the cock the minute he takes it out of his scene partner’s cargo shorts.
He wore tight black jeans and an even tighter white button-up, the buttons of which were undone, revealing a tanned and toned chest. Even from across the patio, I could see the flash of perfect teeth, the perfect cheekbones, the perfect head of dark hair that was messy on purpose. He had the beginnings of a beard and thick glasses that were probably just for show, not prescription. He was lean, but there was strength in his arms. He had a bit of a wicked smile and it was directed right at Darren.
It was even worse than I’d thought.
Because it wasn’t just a normal twink.
No.
It was the dreaded hipster twink.
He probably recycled his own poop to make compost.
That asshole.
Darren, for his part, wasn’t even looking at his admirer, who didn’t really seem to understand the concept of personal space, given that the twink might as well have been climbing him like a fucking tree. No, Darren wasn’t looking at said twink, though he wasn’t doing anything to push him away, either.
Darren was looking directly at me. Normally his look would have been nothing but a blank mask, vague and cool disinterest, but I’d spent too much time with him over the past weeks to be fooled by that anymore. I could see right through his cocky bullshit to know that he was doing this to get a rise out of me. He was challenging me, for fuck’s sake. Trying to see what I’d do. Whether it was planned or not didn’t really matter. Whether or not he’d fucked the twink didn’t really matter (or, at least, that’s what I tried to tell myself and my jack-rabbiting heart).
The only thing that mattered was that Darren Mayne had made a fucking egregious mistake thinking he could come in here, to my club, and challenge me.
That poor, naïve little boy.
(And, if I’m being honest, my reaction was motivated, in part, by the roaring jealousy that crawled through me, infecting every nook and cranny it could find. There was a moment when everything was razor sharp on that little boy who thought he could touch what belonged to Helena, his fingers that for some reason trailed along Darren’s bicep like he had permission to do so, like they were familiar enough to do that. It hadn’t been like that with that stupid little waiter who flirted blatantly with Darren in front of me. I hadn’t cared then. But you can sure as shit bet I fucking cared now.)
There was a problem, though.
I felt slighted.
It was one thing if I’d been knocked down while I was Sandy.
I would have closed off, forced a smile on my face, and licked my wounds when no one was looking. Because that’s just what I did.
But that wasn’t the problem.
The problem was that I wasn’t Sandy.
I was Helena.
Darren had decided to fuck with a queen.
And Helena was going give back just as good as she got.
Darren must have seen something cross my face because his eyes narrowed.
I wiggled my fingers at him in a little wave.
“Oh no,” Paul said.
“What?” Vince asked, confused.
“Helena,” Paul said simply, because it explained everything.
“Oh no,” Vince breathed.
I began to move toward the homo jocks.
“Charlie said to not be stupid,” Paul said.
“Are you texting him a play-by-play?” Vince asked.
“He told me to,” Paul said. “Because he couldn’t move up and down the stairs like he used to.”
“I would also like to go back upstairs,” Vince said.
“We can’t,” Paul said. “We’re Helena’s entourage.”
“Ooh,” Vince said. “I’ve never been in one of those before.”
“We might even have to rumble,” Paul said.
“Throw down,” Vince said.
“Get jiggy with it,” Paul said.
“Hammer time,” Vince said.
“Go ninja, go ninja, go,” Paul said.
“Oh my fucking god,” I hissed, whirling on the both of them. “Would you two fucking focus?”
“Meep,” Paul and Vince said.
I turned back around.
Darren’s eyes had never left me from the moment I came onto the patio, not even for a second. I was close enough now that I could hear the hipster twink by his side, “…and I don’t suppose he meant anything by it, but you know how those things get…” and it was a nice voice, a pleasant voice, one that suited him just fine, if I cared about such things.
But I didn’t.
I walked up the three steps to the higher patio.
“Helena,” Darren said, sounding amused and aggrieved all at one, which was quite the feat.
“Darren,” I said in that sticky-sweet voice.
The skin under his left eye twitched.
It seemed even he knew what that tone meant.
I wondered if alarms were ringing in that tiny little brain of his, screaming ABORT ABORT ABORT.
It was far too late for that.
The twink stopped talking and eyed me curiously.
I ignored him. For now.
“Biff, Chet, Xerxes,” I greeted the other homo jocks, nodding at each of them in turn.
They smiled, but it was in confusion, the poor dears. Xerxes even looked behind him to see if I was talking to someone else. Such a gentle soul.
Darren sighed. “It’s James, Nico, and Scott.”
“That’s what I said.” I smiled at them. Their own smiles got bigger. I liked them. I would auction the shit out of them. They would be so pretty by the time I was done with them. Well, in a manly way. Handsome women, they’d make. “Has Darren here spoken to you of what I will require?”
Biff (James, whatever) nodded. “Sounds like fun.”
Chet (Nico, seriously, what the hell) winked at me. “I don’t want to look easy.”
Xerxes (Scott, how boring) laughed. “There better be some hot guys bidding.”
“Lovely,” I said, clapping my hands together.
Biff, Chet, and Xerxes laughed. Brian smiled. Darren didn’t do either.
He just stared at me.
“The boys,” Paul said. “As in…?”
“Everyone you see here,” I said. I looked at the twin
k. “Except for you. I don’t know you.”
He frowned. “My name is—”
“Darren’s doing this too?” Vince said, sounding offended.
“He practically begged,” I said.
Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Really.”
“Oh boy,” Darren said. “No, not really. Helena asked. I said okay. It’s not a thing. We’re not making this a thing.” Whatever. It was totally a thing.
Paul said, “Of course it’s a thing, you—”
“Brian,” I purred, moving like liquid smoke toward him. “How lovely it is to see you again. You’re looking delicious as always.”
He had that same goofy grin on his face that initially drew me to him that night at the bar. Well, that and the fact that I was already halfway drunk and slightly angry. Not even the memory of him eating all my brunch bacon stopped me from rubbing up against him. It was close, though.
“Hi, Helena,” he said, sounding a little nervous now. He kept darting glances over at Darren, which meant the Homo Jock King had opened his fat mouth and blabbed to the homo jocks about us. Which, to be fair, wasn’t that big of an issue, seeing as how everyone else knew something that wasn’t quite true.
“Paul, Vince,” I said. “You remember Brian, right? From brunch. And the night before.”
Darren had a sour look on his face that I resolutely ignored.
“I really wish I was somewhere else right now,” Paul moaned.
“Go to your happy place,” Vince said. “Go there and think of happy things and you’ll be free of this.” He looked back at me. “You can’t sell me to men. Paul would murder them.”
I grinned, razor sharp. “Of course, baby doll. I would never ask you to do that.”
“But you’d let Darren?” He looked at his brother.
I wrapped an arm around Brian’s shoulder, tugging him as close as the twink was to Darren. “Darren does what he wants,” I said loftily. “He always has. Why should this be any different?”
Brian said, “I think that I want to leave—”
“What are you doing?” Darren asked me.
“Just chatting.” I looked over at the twink and my eyes widened in great surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry. Forgive my rudeness. I didn’t even see that you existed. Hello. Aren’t you just adorable.”
The twink, as adorable as he was, didn’t seem too thrilled with me, which, oh no, my broken heart. But neither was he too intimidated, as he didn’t move away from Darren. That was his first mistake. He obviously didn’t know who I was or he would have been running in the opposite direction. Or, if he were really smart, he wouldn’t have even been here to begin with.
“Caleb,” he said.
“Caleb,” I exclaimed. “That’s so… fitting. Isn’t that fitting, Brian?”
“Um,” Brian said. “Yes?”
“I can’t find my happy place,” Paul hissed at Vince.
“Do you want me to touch your wiener?” Vince whispered back.
“No!” Paul said, sounding scandalized. Then, “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
“I haven’t seen you here before,” I told Caleb, tightening my grip on Brian when he tried to escape.
“Maybe you just weren’t looking for me,” Caleb said.
“Ooh,” I said, baring my teeth. “Feisty. I like this one, Dare. No wonder you’re being you.”
“Helena,” Darren said. “It’s not—”
“So I haven’t noticed you,” I said. “That’s on me. But I see you now. You can trust me on that one.”
“Okay?” Caleb said, sounding annoyed. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“You really aren’t,” I said. “Oh. Sorry. I mean it really isn’t. My bad. You know what they say about the slip of the tongue. Brian? You remember the slip of the tongue?”
Brian flushed almost as if on cue.
“As interesting as this is,” Caleb said, “Darren and I were—”
“—not doing anything,” Darren said quickly, starting to look slightly panicked.
Caleb frowned. “We were talking.”
“And that’s it,” Darren said.
“Talking,” I said. “You look awfully cozy for talking.”
“Kind of like you and Brian?” Darren asked.
I squeezed Brian closer. “Brian and I are just friends. Who had sex that one time.”
“Actually, we had sex three times that night,” Brian said. Then he grimaced. “Also, I wish I hadn’t just said that out loud.”
“Three times,” I cackled, because I was a sex goddess.
“Brian,” Darren growled. “Maybe you should take a step back.”
“He’s okay right where he is,” I said, never looking away from Darren. “Aren’t you, Brian.”
“I… don’t. Know?”
“Nana’s telenovelas,” Vince breathed.
“I still can’t believe you watch those with her,” Paul said.
“Don’t be jealous because she loves me more,” Vince said.
“Well, good for you, I guess,” Caleb said. “Darren, do you want to go get a drink? Or, we could just get out of here if you wanted. Either way, I’m good.” He smiled up at Darren, a simpering thing that said he wouldn’t mind if Darren came on his face, the little skank.
“¡Ay dios mio!” Vince said.
Biff, bless his muscular heart, said, “That’s Darren’s boyfriend.” He looked over at me, eyes widening slightly. “Is it okay that I called you a boy when you’re Helena? I don’t want to offend you or anything. I think you’re pretty.”
I wanted to keep him in my pocket forever. “Darling, that was just fine. I think you’re pretty as well.”
He grinned at me. I would need to make sure the person who bid on him treated him right. He deserved it. I was going to be such a good pimp—er, hostess.
“Boyfriend,” Caleb said dubiously. “Really. You don’t seem like his type.”
“And you do?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’m everyone’s type. And before you got here, it seemed like I was his too.”
“You’re not my type,” I said.
“That’s fine,” he said. “Because I wasn’t going for you.”
I saw red. Bloody, murderous red.
“Look,” Darren said hastily. “You seem nice and everything, but—”
“You’re in this auction?” Caleb interrupted.
Darren glanced at me. Then, “Yeah. Uh. Yes, I am.”
“Good,” Caleb said, squeezing his arm. “I’ll just have to make sure I bid, then.”
“Uh, Helena?” Paul asked.
“Paul,” I said, voice low and dangerous.
“Your show? It’s um. It’s about to start.”
“Is it.”
“Yes?”
“Then I guess I should head over there. Brian, be a dear, would you? Escort me to the stage. I would be so appreciative, baby doll.”
“Are you sure?” Brian asked, looking between Darren and me.
“Positive,” I said.
Darren’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t say anything. He also didn’t push the twink away, either. He hadn’t since I’d come out here. But that was okay. That was fine. Because he and I weren’t anything and Caleb was right. I wasn’t Darren’s type. He was. And maybe types were sort of an archaic notion, but they still held some truth. Darren liked what he liked. That’s just who he was. Maybe when this was all over, he’d fuck Caleb. Or maybe he’d do that later tonight.
Whatever. I didn’t care.
“As eye-opening as this has been,” I said, “I’ve got a show to perform. Isn’t that right, Darren? Because those are the rules. Kiss kiss.”
And I left him there as I dragged Brian away, Paul and Vince trailing behind us.
I WAS off most of that night. Even while performing a mashup of “Leather and Lace” and “Umbrella” (don’t ask and just trust me that it works) as Stevie Rihannanicks, I couldn’t get the image of Caleb’s hands on Darren’s arms out of my head. It probably didn’t help that C
aleb had followed Darren into the club, surrounded by the other homo jocks who glared at him every time he leaned over and whispered something in Darren’s ear. Darren, for his part, barely cracked a smile, didn’t even really look at him, but still didn’t push the damn hipster twink away.
So I ignored the both of them as best I could.
In fact, I bypassed them completely.
When the break in the lyrics came and I was dancing around, collecting tips from the fans, I skipped right over Darren completely, even though he held out another twenty. Childish, maybe. Petty, definitely. But I was annoyed and hurt, even though I didn’t think I had any right to be. He wasn’t mine. He could do what he wanted. After our arrangement had finished, of course. And did it really even need to be going on in the first place? Everything was out in the open. Almost. We didn’t need to do anything more. We didn’t need to keep up this charade when it was obvious his affections were elsewhere. He might have been acting disinterested toward Caleb, but that’s how he acted with all the twinks he fucked. That wasn’t speculation. That was fact.
Brian was there, though, holding out a five-dollar bill, and I gave him a bit of a grind just this side of dirty. I didn’t even glance at Darren when I’d finished and moved on. I didn’t have time for him at the moment.
I introduced the other queens and stood behind the curtain, breathing heavily as they performed, waiting for my turn to go back up.
I wondered if we should call this whole thing off.
I wondered if we should have started this at all.
I fixed the smile on my face as the DJ called me back out for the finale, all the queens smiling and laughing as we performed Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family.” We danced and lip-synched and the liquor flowed and everything was fine, everything was going to be just fine.
The song ended and everyone cheered as the lights flashed. I told myself I would get past this just like I’d gotten past every other disappointment in my life. With grace, tact, and a healthy serving of bitchiness.
“ARE YOU sure you’re okay?” Paul asked as I sat in front of my vanity, sliding the wig off and placing it on the mannequin head. The music was blaring downstairs as the dance floor filled. The bass reverberated up the walls and made my skin crawl.
The smile was still fixed on my face as I said, “I’m fine, baby doll. Where’s your better half?”