by Brandon Witt
“It means that because you couldn’t handle your feelings as you looked at Vahin, you decided to try to ruin him. Or is it me you want? What was harder for you? That you wanna get naked with a guy, or that the men you’re attracted to have a shit ton more melanin than they’re supposed to?”
There was a flash of fear—that would’ve confirmed Marlon’s suspicions if he’d not been certain about it for a long time. The fear only lasted a heartbeat before igniting an inferno of rage. “I’m not a fucking faggot. Not like you.” Andrew’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, and he moved his hand toward the handle of his gun.
Marlon reared back in his seat, nearly reaching for his own, then forced himself to wait. “Andrew, stop. I’m sorry.”
Andrew had unclipped the handle with his thumb and had begun to pull it out. He paused at Marlon’s words, his eyes growing large. He didn’t draw his hand away, but he didn’t pull the gun out any farther.
Marlon held up his hands. “I was wrong. Sorry. I was talking shit.” He stared into Andrew’s blue eyes and saw raw fury and fear. And though he was close to hating the man, Marlon actually felt a sliver of pity for him.
There was no way for him to get to his gun before Andrew pulled his.
He spoke again. “Sorry, really. I’ll never say that again.”
Andrew’s voice trembled as did his hand as he slid the gun back into position. “Because it’s fucking shit.”
Marlon nodded. “Yeah. I was just being a bitch.” There was a large part of him that raged against lowering himself in front of Andrew, but to do anything else was pointless and would end in more conflict.
They stared at each other, Marlon keeping his hands raised, Andrew lifting his from the gun. Finally he reached for the door handle. “If I hear you spreading shit, I swear to—”
“You won’t.”
Andrew pushed open the door. “Hope you enjoyed being a cop, faggot. That’s all about to end.” He slid out, slammed the door, and was gone.
Marlon watched him in the rearview as he disappeared into the station, ready to duck down and pull his gun should Andrew turn around.
God, he’d been an idiot. The chief might actually take his badge when Marlon told about confronting Andrew, about provoking him with the gay shit. He sat there for another fifteen minutes, trying to get his nerves to return to normal and to lessen the chance he’d run into Andrew on the way in. He for sure didn’t want Andrew to see him going to the chief’s office.
An image flashed through his mind of Andrew walking in, his gun fully drawn, and opening fire on him talking to the chief.
Actually there was no need to talk to the chief that very moment. What was the point? What good would come of it? Neither of them had fully pulled their guns or made actual threats. It had been nothing more than name-calling and one man’s word against the other.
Finally he got out of the car, gathered his stuff off the hood, and went in. He’d apparently waited long enough for Andrew to leave, or maybe he was in the chief’s office, though Marlon doubted it. He couldn’t picture Andrew coming close to alluding to someone calling him gay.
As he was leaving the station, Marlon realized he would have to talk to the chief. There would have to be a partner change after this. No way could he or Andrew work together any longer.
Guilt tugged at him, both for putting his chief in a situation that would ripple through the station and, more so, could cause Andrew’s behavior to escalate.
MARLON WASN’T surprised to get Vahin’s answering text stating he was at Mary’s. As he walked into the restaurant, Marlon prayed he hadn’t done something to make Vahin’s situation worse. Vahin had gone to an informal interview at a construction company the day before. While the idea of Vahin hot and sweaty wearing a tool belt was appealing, Marlon ached over hearing the defeat in Vahin’s voice as he said they’d told him that he’d be able to start early the next week. It had almost been enough for Marlon to offer to cover a couple months of Vahin’s rent just so they could see how it all played out, not that it would take that long. The only thing that stopped him was knowing Vahin would feel even more like a failure at such a suggestion.
Marlon spotted Vahin sitting at the bar talking to the other bartender and the younger drag queen—Ariel, that was her name. Like he’d ever be able to forget. He wouldn’t be able to walk by a mermaid display without blushing for the rest of his life.
Marlon pressed up against Vahin and kissed his cheek before Vahin noticed he’d arrived.
Vahin jumped, then kissed Marlon full on the mouth before pulling back and smiling. “Look at you, with the public display of affection.”
Marlon shrugged, though he was shocked. He hadn’t even thought twice about it. “No one left to hide from.”
“You okay with that, or does it freak you out?”
“Actually….” How had he not thought of this, even with all that was going on? “You know, it feels pretty amazing.”
“Good.” Vahin smiled again, but Marlon realized it wasn’t his normal carefree grin. Not that anything about Vahin had been carefree over the past several days, but still.
“What’s wrong?”
Vahin turned back toward his friends. “You mind?”
Ariel shook her head.
He addressed Marlon again, keeping his voice relatively low. “Ariel stepped out front a bit ago and got harassed by a couple of guys walking by.”
Marlon looked over Vahin’s shoulder and met Ariel’s light green eyes; small trails of mascara were smeared on her cheeks. She met his gaze, then glanced away. He focused back on Vahin. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, just some verbal shit. Might have gotten physical, but a couple on the patio yelled at the guys, and they took off.”
“Fuck.” Marlon started to address Ariel, then thought better of it. “I can take her statement, if she wants.”
Vahin shook his head. “Nah. Nothing actually happened, and I think that would freak Ariel out more than do anything useful.”
“You sure she’s okay?”
“As good as she can be. I’m getting so tired of this shit. This neighborhood keeps getting ritzier and ritzier, and crap like this still happens.”
Marlon thought back to the conversation he’d had with Andrew the other day. “I know. But it’s not only here. Better here than some neighborhoods right now, trust me. With all the political shit going on, the bigots are riled up.”
“Yeah, well, it’s getting old.” Vahin sighed, then grimaced. “I’m sorry, I know you probably don’t wanna hang out at Mary’s again, but do you mind if we stay for Ariel’s show and make sure she gets out of here afterward before we keep our plans? ManDonna’s not here. Her son has an engagement party tonight, and this is Ariel’s first show alone.”
As much as it surprised him, Marlon didn’t especially feel up to getting Vahin naked at the moment. He felt a little dirty from the blowup with Andrew. Distraction sounded perfect, even if it came in the form of another drag show. “That sounds kinda fun, actually. And I’m starving.”
Vahin waggled his brows playfully. “Really? Are you starting to like drag now, or are you hoping to get pulled up on stage again? Maybe you got a taste of stardom the other night with everyone yelling when your shirt came off.”
“God, no!” Marlon couldn’t avoid a shudder. “Please don’t get me on stage again. But the drag isn’t half-bad. Not my art form of choice, but it’s growing on me. At least when it means I get to be with you.”
“Wow. That was cheesy.”
Marlon bit his lip and felt his cheeks heat.
“Sadly, I liked it. Didn’t know I had a weakness for such cheese.” Vahin kissed him again, then smacked his ass. “And I feel the same.”
“Good.” Marlon stared at Vahin a moment, caught in the wonder of how he never would’ve guessed this was coming a couple of weeks ago.
“What?”
He couldn’t keep the probably ridiculously stupid grin off his face. “I’m simply enjoyi
ng how hot you are.”
Vahin puffed out his chest. “Really? Tell me more.”
Marlon laughed. “Well, you are. That and you’re ridiculously great in the—wait a minute. I just realized what you said a while ago.”
“What?”
“Did you say ManDonna’s son got engaged? As in, she has a kid?”
Vahin shook his head. “Well, not her biological son, but adopted. Kinda. Long story.” He leveled his gaze at Marlon. “However, she could have kids. You do know that drag queens are men underneath all that makeup, right?”
“I was kinda picturing her pregnant. Which is disturbing.”
Vahin laughed. “Oh, well, you will see that sometime. She does the pregnant nun routine pretty frequently. Cliché, maybe, but timeless.”
THE FOOD was as good as it had been the first time, and Marlon was hungry enough he’d ordered cheesecake as well. The same couldn’t be said for Ariel’s performance. Halfway through and Marlon had grimaced probably a dozen times. So many that Vahin noticed and shot him a dirty look.
Ariel was obviously a nervous wreck, though how much of it was due to being solo for the first time or residual from the incident out front, Marlon wasn’t sure. Though either one would be enough to shake anyone up, but especially Ariel. There was something fragile about her.
Marlon nearly jumped for joy when he felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. He knew it was rude, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he pulled it out, hoping it was someone who could provide a good enough excuse to leave.
He regretted the wish as he looked at the screen. He leaned across the small table, got Vahin’s attention, and held out the phone. “It’s the chief. Sorry.”
Vahin’s eyes widened, and he mouthed, “About me?”
Marlon shrugged, though he doubted it would be about Vahin. He knew all too well what it would be about. He motioned toward the door, then stood, hunched over, and left the dining room.
By the time he’d stepped outside, the call had gone to voice mail. Not waiting, he tapped the chief’s name and called him back.
Chief Schmidt answered on the first ring. “What the fuck did you do?”
Marlon had already started to pace, but halted, debating the best approach. “Um. What do you mean? Why? What happened?”
“Don’t play that shit with me, Barton. You did something.” Though the chief sounded angry, there was something else in his tone, but Marlon couldn’t identify it.
Confession seemed the best path. There wasn’t really another option. “I, um, confronted Andrew after our shift today.”
“About setting up Vahin? Damn it, Marlon, I told you to leave it alone.”
“Well, kinda. I also might have alluded to… sort of implied that….” Fuck.
“Spit it out, Officer.” Whatever else had been there before, anger now seemed to be the only thing the chief was experiencing.
“Well, I… I need you to keep this between the two of us, Chief.”
There was a long exhale of breath from the other end of the phone. “I don’t have time for this shit, Barton. Spit it out.”
Marlon wasn’t certain why he was trying to protect Andrew’s privacy. He hated the guy more than ever, but it still felt wrong to out another guy. “I pretty much told him I thought he was gay and that was the reason he set up Vahin.”
There was a long silence. Marlon didn’t check to see if he’d lost the connection. He was more than familiar with the chief’s pauses. They either ended with a quick wrap-up or an explosion.
Marlon figured this time would be an explosion.
“Well, that explains it.” While the chief still sounded angry, he seemed more pacified than ready to commit murder.
A host of thoughts bombarded Marlon’s brain, too many to begin to make sense of them. “Explains what? What happened?”
The anger was back. “Oh, I got a little call from a senator a few minutes ago. On. My. Personal. Cell. Number.”
“Oh.” Fuck. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” The chief’s growl reverberated in Marlon’s ear. “Shit.”
“Sorry, Chief.”
“You’d better be.” The chief’s tone lightened somewhat. “I almost don’t want to tell you this, because you’ll see it as a reward. But in some ways it is.”
Marlon tried to follow, but couldn’t. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Nothing new there.” The chief chuckled, though there wasn’t much humor in the sound. “It seems Officer Morris called his uncle and demanded a transfer, effective immediately.”
Marlon replayed the words multiple times, trying to make them mean something other than what they’d sounded like. He couldn’t. “You mean… he’s gone?”
“Yep.”
Holy shit! “But I thought there weren’t any more options and that I had to—”
The chief cut him off. “It seems the senator found another alternative. Or made one, is my guess.”
Marlon felt like he’d just won the lotto.
“I can practically hear you singing the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ in your head from here, Barton. I suggest you remember that the next time you don’t follow my orders, I’ll have your head on a platter, which I still might. The senator pretty much asked for it already.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I can still hear you smiling, Officer.”
It was true. No way to stop. “Sorry, sir.” Another thought broke through Marlon’s relief. “Does this mean—”
Anticipating his next question, the chief cut him off. “It doesn’t mean anything. Yet. We still have to wait and see if the courts uphold the ticket against Mr. Arora.”
“Oh.” His joy subsided significantly.
“But”—Chief Schmidt’s voice had a lighter tone suddenly—“it can’t hurt.”
DANIEL SIPPED his martini and grimaced, then slapped the bar. “Alex, get your skinny ass over here. I said dirty, and when I say dirty, I mean I want this glass filled with the sluttiest olive juice you can find. All you did was have the olives kiss before you dropped them in.” He shot a glance at Vahin. “I thought you trained him better than this.”
Vahin couldn’t suppress a grin. “And I thought you were less dramatic when you were Daniel instead of ManDonna.”
“Boy, don’t mess with this girl’s drink. It don’t matter if I’m tucked or untucked, I will cut a bitch.” He smacked the bar again.
Alex had already dumped the contents and gotten a new glass. “Sorry, ManDonna.”
Daniel reared back his head. “Do I look like ManDonna to you?”
“I….” Alex’s mouth worked without sound, and then he focused on the cocktail shaker.
Daniel turned toward Vahin and grinned, lowering his voice. “I love messing with that one. I’ll almost be sad to see you back full-time.”
“Well, there’s no guarantee of that.” The past week and a half had seemed like forever. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying construction…. Well, no, I’m not, but your husband is nice.” Daniel cocked an eyebrow, and Vahin corrected himself. “Gruff but nice. And it’s fun to be around all the guys, but I miss it here. And even though most of them are gay, there’s still a lot of macho testosterone. I need a steady dose of drag queens.”
Daniel started to reply, but Vahin motioned to Alex before he could. “Alex, you’ll wanna shake that till you think your arm is going to fall off. He likes the top skated.”
“That’s right, baby gay. Shake your money maker.” Daniel winked at Vahin, who grinned.
This. This was what he missed. The ease of Mary’s, the humor, the camp, the… family. He missed his family. Vahin was grateful for the job, and the construction crew really was great, but it wasn’t home. Though, he had enjoyed Marlon’s request for him to wear his tool belt—nothing but his tool belt—the other night.
Alex poured the drink into a new chilled martini glass, skewered two olives, then a third when Daniel cleared his throat, and placed the new drink on the bar.
>
Daniel rose off his seat, leaned across the bar, and smacked Alex on the cheek with the pads of his fingers. “Perfection, sweetie. And don’t make me teach you that lesson again, unless you enjoy this kind of thing. In which case, I’m happy to be of service.”
Alex’s cheeks reddened, and he hurried down the bar to wait on a customer who hadn’t even chosen a barstool yet.
“You’re the only person who can make him blush.”
Daniel shrugged. “It’s a talent.”
They sipped their drinks for a bit, both pretending to watch the game. Finally, Vahin couldn’t hold back his worry any longer. “So be real with me here.”
“Like I do anything else.” Daniel cast him a side glance and then removed one of the olives with his teeth.
“I know.” Vahin leaned closer. “How worried is Steven, honestly? He keeps telling me that it will all be okay, but I know the fines to the bar will be unreal. I don’t see how we’ll survive it, after all the money he and Pat just sunk into the remodel.”
Daniel hesitated, then finally spoke, his voice quiet and lacking any of his and ManDonna’s typical sass. “He hasn’t said much, but it’s easy to see it’s eating him alive. He’s so stressed I wouldn’t be surprised if his beard turns as gray as Santa’s before too long.”
Vahin slouched, feeling like shit. He was the reason the people he loved most were stressed, why they might lose everything.
“But Mary’s will make it. It will.” Daniel nodded, probably more to himself than Vahin. “It has to.”
There wasn’t any more to say, nothing that wouldn’t bring their mood down further, so they sat, stared at the TV without watching, and drank their drinks.
Alex had made them each a second cocktail when an older black man leaned against the bar next to Vahin.
Daniel did a double take. “Oh! Hello, daddy!”
The man’s eyes widened. “I… ah….” His gaze held on to Daniel, then flicked to Vahin, a look of terror over his face. He didn’t seem like a man who got scared by much. “Please tell me you’re Mr. Arora. Mr. Vahin Arora.”