Vodka & Handcuffs

by Brandon Witt

  Marlon turned, facing away.

  “What’s going on?” Vahin twisted around to look in the direction where Andrew was sitting.

  “No, don’t turn around!” Shit. He sounded utterly panicked.

  He felt Vahin’s gaze on him. “Marlon, what’s going on?”

  “Come on, just follow me, please.” Marlon started walking, trusting that Vahin would follow.

  He did. “Marlon?”

  Marlon kept walking but glanced over at Vahin. “Sorry, it’s probably silly. I saw my partner, and he’s the last person I want to run into. I don’t even want to see him when I’m in my patrol car, much less here.”

  “Who, that hot ginger guy staring at us from across the street?”

  Damn it. So he couldn’t pretend Andrew hadn’t noticed, if his attention had been obvious enough to Vahin, who didn’t even know him. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

  “Wow. Stuck in a car all day with a guy like that. Poor you.” There was a tone to Vahin’s words, but Marlon couldn’t tell what it was. Sarcasm, irritation?

  “Trust me, spend three minutes with the guy, and you’ll understand.” Marlon kept such a pace through the crowds that they were already a block away. He forced himself to slow and really look at Vahin. “Sorry. I am, honestly. Do you mind if we go somewhere else? A little less… public?”

  Vahin’s eyes narrowed.

  “Unless you wanna end the date.” Marlon wouldn’t blame him.

  Vahin hesitated, like he was mentally debating things. “Do you want to end the date?”

  Did he? Kinda, yeah. “No. I don’t.”

  Another hesitation. When Vahin spoke, there was a challenge in his voice. “Okay, then let’s grab dinner at Mary’s. From what you said last time, there won’t be any of your fellow cops there.”

  Guilt tugged at him. “No, I don’t wanna make you go on a date where you work. That sucks.”

  Vahin shrugged. “I’m not the one who has a problem with my coworkers seeing me on a date.”

  The bite in Vahin’s tone couldn’t be missed and probably wasn’t meant to be. Marlon didn’t argue. What was there to say? “Okay. Mary’s sounds great.”

  MAYBE HE should’ve taken Marlon’s offer to end the date. The man was obviously as far in the closet as a guy could get. Vahin had spent the first eighteen years of his life in that darkness, and he had no intention of going back. And yet he couldn’t end it so quickly. Which was ludicrous. He hadn’t been searching for dates or a possible relationship. And Marlon, it turned out, was definitely not an option for a relationship, obviously. Not when he panicked from their hands touching.

  And bringing Marlon to Mary’s, the place Vahin considered home, with the people he counted as family? Maybe Vahin had chosen Mary’s because it was on his turf, his playground, the home advantage. Maybe it was because he wanted to punish Marlon.

  It was to punish him; there wasn’t any doubt about it, actually. He handed the packages of wrapped plates and dishes to Pat as they walked into Mary’s. “Check these out when you have a moment. You’re going to lose your shit over the wineglasses Marlon found.”

  Pat’s eyes grew large as she took the overstuffed bags. “Maybe I can get Alex to watch the host stand for a bit. I can’t wait to see them.” She grinned slyly at Vahin. “Want me to put you in the back of Mary’s parlor? I can not sit anyone else around you for a little bit, give you some privacy.”

  If there had been doubt that he was punishing Marlon, it was washed away in that instant. “Actually how about the table in front?” Maybe it was a test more than a punishment. Though who the fuck cared which it was? Marlon had said he’d never seen a drag performance. Well, he was about to get initiated.

  “Okay, I just sat that table not long ago, so it will probably be more than half an hour.” Pat gave him a look but didn’t say any more.

  “That’s okay.” Vahin glanced over at Marlon. “You okay getting a spot at the bar and watching whatever game is on while we wait?” He looked back at Pat before Marlon could even start to nod. “Yeah, we’ll wait.”

  Though the place was busy, most of the staff stopped by to give Vahin a hug and meet Marlon. By the time Steven brought them two margaritas, it was less about punishment and more about family.

  At last they were seated in the hot spot. Within moments Cody came over for their orders. “Vahin! I thought I saw you at the bar, but I was too busy to come say hi.” He bent down and gave Vahin a quick hug.

  “Requested your section special.”

  Cody grinned. “Whatever, you requested this table for Man—”

  Vahin cut him off. “Sweetie, would you put in an order of those nachos for us before we get more drinks. I want my date to be sober enough to remember what I do to him later tonight, for once.”

  Cody’s cheeks reddened behind his long curtain of black bangs. He managed a nod before turning away.

  “Wow, that kid can blush.” Marlon was twisting his napkin between his fingers. “I think I might be as well.”

  Okay, he needed to tone down the punishment. He didn’t want to scare Marlon off completely, at least not yet. “He’s a sweet kid. Has a great boyfriend. I thought with all the sex they’ve been having, Cody would lose some of his small-town sensibilities, but looks like those are here to stay.” He tried to soften his tone. “You’ll love the nachos. They’re insane.”

  “Yeah, caught that. It seems you’re still planning on taking me home after, huh? I was wondering if I blew my chances.”

  Vahin shrugged, still focusing on keeping his tone neutral. “Honestly, not sure at the moment, but I’m keeping the option open for now. We’ll see how the rest of the night goes. If I make you flinch again or not.” Maybe not so neutral. He needed to relax, but he had no patience for closeted guys, especially those who were close to his age.

  “Again, Vahin, I’m so sorry about that.” Marlon glanced around, then reached over and hesitantly took Vahin’s hand. “Really. I’m not embarrassed by you, if that’s what it seemed like. Not at all.”

  Vahin laughed a bit. “Well, I hadn’t actually considered that option until this moment, so thanks for that.” He laughed again and glanced down at Marlon’s nearly midnight-dark hand covering his. It was so large and warm. So masculine. And despite the bite of anger, the feel of it made him want to push away the warning signs and pretend he actually did want a relationship. He lifted his gaze to Marlon’s. “I didn’t think you were embarrassed of me, just that you were in the closet.”

  Marlon didn’t look away, which made it seem he was telling the truth. “I’m not in the closet.”

  “Really?”

  “No, I’m not. My family knows. My friends. My old partner knew, and the chief knows.”

  Vahin read between the lines. “Ah, so your new partner and all the other officers don’t know.”

  There was a hesitation, but finally Marlon shook his head. “No. Those people don’t know.”

  Vahin pulled his hand out from under Marlon’s. “So you are in the closet, at least with the people you’re around the most.”

  A hard expression crossed Marlon’s face, and his tone had a warning hint to it. “You’re a bartender. One in a”—he motioned to the vintage photographs of half-naked male wrestlers hung in gilded frames over the pink wallpaper—“very gay-friendly restaurant. It’s a little bit easier for you to be out than it is for a cop. Especially a black cop. I’ve already got enough stacked against me without adding that to the list.”

  Vahin flinched. “Seriously? It’s a bit easier for me? Because you’re a black cop. Oh, poor you. Try growing up in a Muslim family and being gay. Try coming out to them, getting cut off from everyone you know. Try having to change your name to keep them from harassing you. Try having half the country assume you’re thinking about strapping a bomb to your chest and blowing them up. Yeah, it’s been easy to come out. About as fun as a fucking birthday party.”

  Vahin’s pulse throbbed at his temple. He looked over to see Cody sta
nding there holding the platter of nachos, obviously wanting to run away. “Um. Sorry, Vahin. Want me to come back?”

  “No, kid. I’m sorry.” He let out a breath and attempted a smile. “Cheese, beef, and salsa is exactly what I need.”

  Cody set down the food, paused like he was going to say something else, then turned and walked away.

  Vahin let out another breath. Now he’d word-vomited all over the table, a sliver of guilt bit at him. He felt better, actually, but he hadn’t meant to go off like that. He glanced at Marlon. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to spout off.”

  Marlon studied him for a moment, his expression more open than it had been all evening. “You had to change your name?”

  For fuck’s sake. He hadn’t wanted to get into all of that so soon. He sighed and forced a calm he didn’t feel into his tone. “Yeah. After I came out… things didn’t go so well. Even after I moved. My family kept…. Well, let’s just say it wasn’t pleasant. I changed my name from Ifran to Vahin. It’s from the Hindu side of my mother’s family. Something they’d rather not think about.”

  “Shit.”

  Shit was right. Too much of an overshare, and he was bordering on being an asshole, whether Marlon was in the closet or not.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Marlon continued. “I had no idea. I guess it’s easy to think my own situation is the hardest.”

  Marlon’s expression was so genuine Vahin’s guilt increased. “Well, I did the same to you, didn’t I? I have no idea what it’s like to be a cop. Black, gay, or otherwise.” It looked like Marlon was about to apologize again, so Vahin cut him off. “Let’s just have nachos, okay? We need food. We’re good, right?”

  Marlon’s mouth worked before he finally responded. “Yeah. We’re good.” He picked up one of the larger chips, scooped up a heap of toppings, and popped it in his mouth. His eyes widened, and he let out a moan.

  Vahin smiled and relaxed a bit. “Told ya. They’re amazing, right?”

  “Totally.”

  The next several minutes were consumed by chips, cheese, guacamole, jalapeños, and sour cream. With each bite, Vahin felt better. And it looked like Marlon was feeling the same.

  After a bit, Marlon spoke again, motioning toward the bar. “So you’re a Muslim bartender? I thought Muslims didn’t drink?”

  Vahin snorted. “They don’t have gay sex either.”

  “Ah, right. Neither do Baptists, as my parents are quick to remind me.” Marlon grinned. “So you’re a Muslim who breaks all the rules. The Muslim bad boy, if you will.”

  He knew Marlon’s attempt to make light of it all was actually an effort to be nice, to smooth things over, but the words stung. Even after all these years. “Well, no. According to my family, I’m no longer Muslim. And I’m no longer worthy to be spoken to. However”—and here was the conflict, the thing he hadn’t been able to rationalize or fully understand—“I still see myself as Muslim. It’s as much my past, my heritage, as being Indian. You know?”

  Marlon nodded. “Yeah. I think I do. I don’t consider myself a Baptist anymore, and my family hasn’t cut me off or anything, but it’s still a part of who I am.”

  A thought came to him, one that always showed up on dates and in a million other situations where people were involved. “Does it bother you?”

  Marlon’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “That I’m Muslim?”

  Marlon’s expression left no doubt that he was genuine when he spoke. “No. Of course not. There are a couple Muslim guys on the force, and…. No. That doesn’t bother me at all.”

  The relief and gratitude Vahin felt irritated him. He shouldn’t have to feel grateful for being accepted. But still, he was.

  At that moment, the lights on the stage brightened, and a loud, shrill voice from the other side of the restaurant cut through all other noise. “Well, hellloooooooo, ladies!”

  Vahin instantly regretted his choice of tables. He no longer had the desire to punish or to test Marlon.

  Too late now.

  ManDonna swept through the dining room, her slinky gown dripping with ropes of crystal rhinestones and sequins, sending rainbows through the space as if she were a disco ball. She paused at a few tables, offering a wink here and a slap on the cheek there. Her unnaturally blue contact eyes widened as she spotted Vahin, then flicked across the table to Marlon. She looked back to Vahin and gave a wink with her glittering false eyelashes and continued on to the stage.

  Vahin groaned inwardly. She’d read his intent perfectly, and there was nothing short of grabbing Marlon’s hand and sprinting toward the door that would change his fate at this point.

  Taking her place on center stage, ManDonna raised both her hands in the air, popped her hip, and shook her fire-red wig, like she was in a shampoo commercial. She looked like a glamped-up version of Lucille Ball. “That’s right, boys, worship me!”

  The restaurant cheered.

  Marlon clapped along but cast a wide-eyed glance at Vahin.

  ManDonna lowered her arms and gestured toward the now quiet televisions around the bar. “You can tip me later for rescuing you from that… drivel. Baseball’s better without the sounds. You can focus on the bouncing asses and really determine how much of the bulge is their cup and how much is their own… bat. Speaking of….” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and raised her voice even higher… “Oh, booooys!”

  The crowd went into hysterics of hollers, whistles, and catcalls as six men—three running in from the back patio, and three from Mary’s parlor—jogged up to take their places on either side of the stage. Each muscled, oiled, and wearing only a striped pair of baseball pants cut off so high they might as well have been bikini bottoms. And each was stuffed with an exaggerated jock cup.

  No sooner had the men hit their marks than a techno version of “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” pounded through the speakers. Vahin couldn’t suppress a grin. He hadn’t seen this particular performance before. Only ManDonna could figure out a way to gay-up that song. As it played, she glided off the stage, lip-synching in time with words in a ridiculously exaggerated manner.

  As was her normal, by the time the song was over, each of her gyrating models had been groped and had their chest hair pulled, nipples tweaked, and jocks squeezed. Though it was hard to look away, Vahin kept checking on Marlon. He seemed mostly terrified but had a slight grin on his face that seemed to grow every time Vahin checked. And to Vahin’s surprise, ManDonna hadn’t turned her attention to Marlon once during the song and even returned to the stage without so much as blowing him a kiss. Maybe it was going to be all right after all.

  ManDonna made a show of fanning herself and smoothing out her gown. “Let me tell y’all, I’ve had to take one for the team to get these guys to agree to this.” She paused, lifting a finger to her lips as if in thought. “Did I say take one for the team? I meant I had to take one from the team. All of them, honey. At once.” She closed her eyes and snarled her glossy red lips in false orgasm. “The things, the many, many things, I had to do to get them to agree to entertain you.” She opened her eyes and leveled her gaze back on the diners. “Well, you’re welcome.”

  The six-member baseball team pumped their hips.

  More hoots, hollers, and cheers. As the noise died down, ManDonna glanced at Marlon for a split second, and Vahin felt sweat instantly break out over his body. “Now, I know there are a lot of you straight boys in the audience, here with your wives and girlfriends—” She began to cough, covering her mouth. “—beards.” She coughed again, cleared her throat, and wiped her middle finger across her bottom lip and continued like nothing had happened. “And I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten about you. I know you don’t want to see rugged, Colorado men dancing around with their junk flopping about willy-nilly, so I have something for you too. The fishiest fish of them all—Ariel Merman!”

  Relief coursed through Vahin as Ariel swept into the room. She was a new drag queen and much tamer than her drag mother, ManDonna. Marlon should be able
to survive whatever she dished out.

  He did a double take as Ariel joined ManDonna and the ball players in front of their table. It had been several weeks since Vahin had seen Ariel Merman in action, and her skills had increased by a ridiculous level.

  She was clad in a barely there Rockies cheerleader outfit, and she might as well have just stepped out of a Playboy centerfold. Long wavy blonde hair cascaded down her back, hitting where her narrow waist jutted into curving hips. She ran her delicate hands up her flat stomach and cupped her cleavage for a brief moment—Vahin would swear they were real—and then waved at the crowd, bouncing up and down like a real cheerleader.

  Vahin was so blown away, he forgot all about Marlon’s precarious situation. Gone was the timid, boyish Zachary Cooper who could barely get two words out without blushing. In his place was one of the most beautiful women Vahin had ever seen. Her face and makeup were flawless, bringing to mind a young Christie Brinkley.

  He felt a touch on his arm. Marlon had leaned closer. “She doesn’t look like a fi—”

  ManDonna let out a screech, causing Marlon to jump a bit in his seat, his knee hitting the table. She pointed at Vahin, a wicked expression curving her lips. “Vahin, dahling, didn’t you explain to your new boy toy that one doesn’t interrupt a ManDonna show? At least not without punishment.” She lifted her hand and wiggled her finger toward Marlon in a come-hither manner.

  Marlon looked over at Vahin, genuine terror in his eyes.

  “Nope!” ManDonna shook her finger at him. “Don’t even try, honey. That hunk of Indian meat can’t help you now.” She gestured to Ariel. “Bring him up, daughter.”

  With an expression of sex and confidence Vahin had never seen her wear, Ariel took the step to their table and grabbed Marlon’s hand.

  He didn’t budge.

  She pulled again.

  Vahin held his breath. In that moment, a billion thoughts rushed through his mind. He should stop it. Marlon could easily freak out and hurt Zachary or run away. He should cause a distraction, rip off his own shirt and throw himself on the stage. Offer up free shots for everyone. Maybe….