by T. C. Clover
around him were going to roast his insides. The police officer sat at the end of the table with Richard and Fassim on his right, and Litz, CKB, and Jazzy on the left. Nobody had said much after his bold announcement near the fiery rocket, except when Jason concluded that the test was successful.
Stoney panned his head from left to right, looking at the faces of his companions. Their expensive suits and fancy gowns made his moment of truth feel like something out of a high school prom. He wondered if Mike and Jennifer were back at their room celebrating his humiliation with a bottle of champagne. It wasn’t hard to imagine the mysterious duo as a pair of soul-sucking chupacabras, but Stoney decided that it would be less vivid after drinking some alcohol.
“Pick a song already!” Richard insisted with restraint; not speaking loud enough for the obese drunk to hear him. “How long has he been hogging that jukebox?”
“Maybe he thinks that he’s already listening to something,” CKB offered with a smirk as he turned to gaze at the bar patron.
“That would be amazing!” Litz echoed her support with a demeanor of playful excitement. “Which drink makes you hallucinate that you hear music? More of that please.”
“What can I get for you?” A tidy, twenty-two-year-old blonde waitress asked in a rich Texas accent as she held a digital tablet in front of her to take their order.
“We want three Long Island Iced Teas on this side, and one at the end of the table,” Litz requested in a way that was pure business. “I’m not sure what they want,” she added with a disenchanted stare, folding her arms to display strength.
“I’ll have a Coke,” Richard said in what sounded like a moment of grief for his lack of access to the jukebox.
“Get me a copper camel,” Fassim answered as she stared at Litz with disapproval.
“I thought you don’t drink?” Litz asked the paparazzi photographer.
Fassim didn’t bother justifying the inquiry with an answer and turned up her nose at the plumber. The waitress looked somewhat uncomfortable with the apparent conflict at the table. She stared at the floor and then elected to seek sanctuary behind the bar without attempting to confirm any orders.
“I don’t understand why you won’t just support Stoney; it’s not up to you to tell other people how to live,” Litz argued with her conservative co-stars across the table. “I mean sex is only one percent of your life – at best. How can you judge a person based on one percent of their life?”
“It’s just not what we believe in,” Richard stated with a shrug, “and I don’t have to support things that aren’t part of my belief system.”
“Look, I didn’t even want to come out like that; it was part of my contract with the show,” Stoney said with contempt as he felt the corrosive gazes of Richard and Fassim eating away at his identity. “I also know that every one of you has a skeleton in your closet. Mike said that before the season is done, you’ll all have to reveal something from your past.”
The other actors looked away from one another in a silent confirmation of this claim. After a short pause, the waitress interrupted them by setting down drinks on the table with the efficiency of a naval officer.
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you,” the youthful Texan offered with a forced smile, noticing that her patrons had become more awkward than before.
“Do you have a big rainbow flag that we could borrow?” Jazzy quipped with a wink and a smile, causing the server to pause and twist her head to the right. “No, I’m just kidding; we’re fine.”
“Do you see this drink in front of me?” Fassim asked Stoney as she placed her hands on her knees, taking up extra space with her elbows bowing outward. “I could drink this down and enjoy all of the warmth that it has to offer, or I could dump it out on the floor. When you run into a man, and you’re craving his touch, you don’t have to partake. It’s your choice if you want to do those things. I know, because I also like men, and I have the ability to say no.”
Litz was about to respond with a myriad of witty retorts and facts but was shocked to hear slow clapping from Richard. The undaunted plumber glared at the film editor with a vivacious demeanor of betrayal. Richard stared back into her eyes and continued to clap, confirming that this was not an area where he would be willing to budge.
“I can’t believe that the two of you won’t support Stoney in a time like this!” Litz growled at the conservative pair through gritted teeth. “We’ve all been tolerant of your religious crap, and now you can’t even be decent. Oh, and by the way, Fassim; what a clever way to set up your argument. I’ll order a drink and sit here like a crocodile until I have a prop in front of me to make my case. Why don’t you go out and buy some poster board and markers? Then you could draw pictures of penises and vaginas, and let us all know how they’re compatible. I can’t believe that you think your religion should matter to all of us.”
“Yeah, I’m with Litz and Jazzy on this one; you don’t need to be tellin’ our boy what he can and can’t do in the bedroom,” CKB added and shook his head.
Stoney felt conflicted as the criminal stuck up for him with genuine passion. He was perplexed that one announcement could cause such a divide among a group of people. His sexuality had become like a genie lingering over the group, refusing to go back into its bottle.
“Well, who says that we need your approval anyway?” Jazzy prodded with a serving of sarcasm. “It’s not like he needs to call you and ask your permission next time he decides to have sex. Besides, Fassim, with all of the naked pictures you take of me, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a secret lesbian.”
Fassim knocked the copper camel over in Jazzy’s direction and spilled some of the liquid onto her expensive outfit. The comedian then jumped up from her chair with instant rage, bolting around the left side of the table to confront her colleague. In a moment of fight or flight, the paparazzi photographer was quick to react and sprinted toward the exit with her co-star in pursuit. Most of the bar patrons watched the women as they raced through the establishment to the entryway of the hotel. Jazzy swore several times on her way through the hotel hallway, gauging that the other woman was much faster.
Stoney exhaled in a moment of social disdain and snatched his drink from the table. He then gulped the Long Island Iced Tea down as though it would erase the past few hours, and didn’t come up for air until only ice remained in his glass.
“Can we get our check?” Litz called out to the waitress when the woman began to approach their table.
“Don’t worry about your check, they told us to bill it to the room,” the waitress said with a wave of her right hand. “Is everything okay over there?”
“Everything is just fine,” the unwavering plumber answered as she stared Richard down and stood up from her chair. “I’ll get you for this, Richard. There are a lot of shows left in this season, and you’ll regret making Stoney feel this way.” She moved her body between CKB and Stoney, gripping their shoulders in a display of solidarity before taking her leave from the bar.
Richard looked down at his Coke, an empty, bubbling black mass on the table, and felt the same way on the inside. Although he didn’t hate Stoney in his heart; there were too many lessons from church and his childhood to let something like this slide.
“Mike shouldn’t have made you do it that way,” Richard stated in a small peace offering and began to depart from the establishment. “But if you ask me to repeat that on camera, I won’t support you.” He shrugged and moved faster toward the exit, somehow feeling better about the situation.
“I need some time alone,” Stoney whispered to CKB as he felt the sweet warmth of the alcohol dulling the pain from his recent announcement.
The career criminal got up from the table and patted his co-star on the shoulder. He then departed the bar with a somber expression, thinking about their return to New York.
Litz was flustered as she stomped through the hallways of the hot
el, snarling at other patrons on her way back to the luxury suite. When she got to the elevator, her satellite phone showed a text message that she had missed while in the bar. The flustered woman tilted her head back in confusion after reading the sentence. It was as follows: ‘Hey this is Jason Harrington from NASA; I got your number from Jennifer and was wondering if I could pay you a visit?’
She exhaled in a manner that was slow and sustained, wondering if company would be a good idea right now. Although the message was a bit on the creepy side, it did show off a bold part of the man’s personality that had been lacking before. Litz decided to respond with: ‘What did you have in mind?’
The television star waited for several seconds before finally receiving a reply: ‘I heard you were staying at the Hilton. Could I see you in your room?’
She smiled and began to chuckle, surprising the other three passengers in the elevator. Litz ignored their passive-aggressive responses and bit her lower lip as she considered his proposition. After a few seconds of thought and allowing the alcohol to kick in, she replied with: ‘718.’ The diva breathed in as much oxygen as her lungs could hold, and then exhaled with the burden of preemptive regret. She knew that the chance of this turning into a positive encounter was rare, but it couldn’t have been worse than