by Kage Alan
"I get the point!" This kid knew far too much about things I certainly never knew about at his age. He was also one heck of an eavesdropper. “Where did you ever hear words like those, anyway? Not just from your mom and aunt, I hope.” I know for damn sure he never heard it from my great-aunt and uncle.
"This is California,” he told me matter-of-factly.
"Oh, good.” I stared at him. “So, you're familiar with the term precocious?"
"You use a word like precocious on a nine-year-old?” There was something odd I couldn't quite identify in his voice. “How pretentious."
"Maybe,” I tried to laugh it off, “but can you spell it?"
"Can you?"
"Um...” My smirk faded as I realized the little bastard had me. “I have to get ready."
* * * *
"Hey!” Jordan poked his head around the doorjamb. “You almost ready?"
I was lying down on the bed trying to invoke some kind of meditation. For the past half-hour, I'd almost expected someone from Candid Camera to come jumping out telling me what a fantastic joke had been played on me, or that I'd hear Rod Serling's voice speaking to an audience about my trip into the Twilight Zone.
Why did it feel like walls were closing in around me? Maybe they always had been, it was only now that I could see them. They weren't clear yet, but I knew they were there. Why couldn't I see them for what they were? Why was it so difficult? Was I just being stubborn or was it reality not wanting me to see the complete picture yet?
"Yeah.” I sat up and swung my legs over the side. “For better or worse, I'm ready and raring to go."
"You have a scowl on your face."
"I think I'm just a little nervous.” I tried to sound a little more together than I actually was. “I feel like ... Do you remember that movie The Black Hole?” He nodded. “It's like I'm in this nice little self-contained ship, which is my sphere of experience, and I'm staring into something completely unknown to me. I don't like the unknown because it's not always a safe bet.
"That's the only time I ever gamble, which tells you how often I do it. I actually feel more comfortable with repetition then I do taking an actual risk. Take tonight, for instance. Even though it's just dancing..."
He was eyeing me closely now, probably trying to figure out if I was going to tell him I'd changed my mind.
"Small experiences, the smallest, can make a difference in a person's life. Once they've had that experience, they're changed forever. Change doesn't bother me when I know what to expect—and you were right earlier. I have no idea what to expect, and that scares me, but I don't want to stay home. I do want to go. Something tells me I have to go."
"You aren't going to tell me that you had a mystical experience, are you?” Jordan smirked. “There weren't any imaginary people who came to you while I was in the shower and told you to do this tonight, were there? You don't hear voices, do you?"
"I didn't mention that when I get that scared feeling in the pit of my stomach, I start taking my aggressions out on anyone around me, did I? If not, then I also probably didn't mention that—"
"I get the point. I just haven't learned when you want to be taken seriously, and ... when you're attempting foreplay."
I lunged off the bed, but he had already taken off running for the kitchen. When I finally caught up to him, he had positioned himself with Jenny between us. That was okay. He'd pay! Sometimes the anticipation was worse than the actual act of revenge. And after I'm done with you...
Jordan moved out into the open, knowing full well that I wouldn't do anything with someone else around; and I took in my first full look at him. I didn't know whether to whimper or just put a bag over my head. As one masculine guy comfortable with his heterosexuality giving another guy a compliment, he looked damn near perfect.
Maybe I was putting him on too much of a pedestal, but I really had nothing to gain by stating exactly how he came across. It wasn't like he was going to hear my thoughts and I'd then be re-warded by another kiss or something else even more unsavory.
He was wearing a white T-shirt, which accentuated his chest more than any shirt I'd seen him in so far, and a pair of shorts that, while not sleazy or faggy, definitely broadcast sex-appeal. I had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.
"Now, Jordan.” Jenny handed him a sheet of paper. “This is the number of the hotel we'll be staying at, and the club where the reception is being held. Don't worry about the kids. Diane is taking them for the night, so you don't have to be in early, and she's also taking them to practice tomorrow. That frees you up in case you two decide to go to the beach in the afternoon."
"Are you and Kenny going somewhere?” No one had mentioned a thing about them having plans for anything. I just hoped I wasn't interrupting or overstaying my welcome. “If you need to drop me back off with Grandma, that's fine. I don't want to get in the way."
"Oh, good grief!” Jenny laughed. “You're not in the way at all, Andy. Kenny and I have this wedding to go to, and Diane was going to take the kids anyway to give Jordan the night off. Besides, I'm glad you'll be here to keep him in line.” She gave him a mischievous look. “Now I don't have to worry about the neighbors complaining about any strange noises coming from the house."
"Strange noises?” What was she talking about? “I don't make a lot of noise,” I informed them, and they both stared at me.
Oh, those kinds of noises.
"Well, sure, I mean I'll rock the house.” That still didn't sound so good. “Just not tonight. I'll be quiet tonight.” That didn't help. “Because nothing is going to happen tonight. Why don't I just shut up now."
"Right. I have to go get dressed, then Kenny and I will drop Lenny and Benny off. You two have fun tonight, but not too much fun!” Again came the mischievous look.
"For crying out loud, Jenny, we're just going dancing and maybe grab a queer..."
They both looked at me.
"Beer. Grab a beer.” I shook my head. “Well, I can see how this night is starting out."
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8
Jordan and I left a short time later. There wasn't much conversation in the vehicle, but that was probably my fault. I was afraid to open my mouth in case something stupid came out again—another Freudian slip or worse.
There was so much around me that had to do with homosexuality that it was no wonder it was on my mind. It was probably the only time in adulthood that a heterosexual could say it was healthy for homosexuality to be on his mind—there was no way to avoid it in this particular area of the state.
I almost wished for the by-the-numbers existence back in Michigan at Kay-Mart, home and school. Maybe vacations weren't what they were made out to be. Maybe I'd just explore part of my own state next time. Then, too, maybe I was doing it all wrong. Most of the people I knew were going out of the country, so maybe that was the way to go. Change should be in moderation, not the complete utter chaos of culture shock I'd experienced so far.
My own quote came back to me. The smallest experience can make a difference in a person's life. Once they've had it, they're changed forever. I didn't want these experiences! I didn't ask for them, and I had the choice to decide how much I was going to let them become a part of me.
There was too much at risk to back out of going to the club tonight. I had to prove to myself that I was capable of getting through it without being manipulated.
By the time we arrived at the club, I'd worked myself up into an attitude I was sure would keep everybody at a certain distance from me. If they ignored the nonverbal communication I was giving off, God help them, because I wasn't in the mood to be nice. Mr. Nice Guy was no more.
"Try to stay around the dance floor and bar,” Jordan told me before getting out of the car. “There's a lounge area, but avoid it if you can because that's where most of the people looking to hook up for the night hang out. If you're ap-proached, and I'm quite sure you will be, don't show any hesitation in telling them you aren't interested. I
f things get really rough, just remember to say ‘Mary.'” He turned to me and grinned. “I don't want to have to rescue you."
"Don't worry about me. The last time somebody tried to pick me up, I was still in diapers.” I climbed out, shut the door and waited patiently for him to lead the way.
"You know,” he called out to me, “underneath that callous and self-defeating attitude of yours is a very handsome and attractive young man."
"Jordan, I look like I just stepped out of a GQ magazine and fell flat on my face.” I sighed. “People look at you and think you're an angel. They look at me and think I'm a Saint ... Bernard."
He locked the car and gave me a strange side-long look before starting for the entrance.
Inside was nothing short of spectacular. There was a short corridor lit in blue neon lights where one paid the cover charge, checked a coat if there was one and then moved on into the club. A large bar lined with green neon lights took up the entire right side of the room, while the dance floor took up the remaining space. The walls were decorated in various other fluorescent colors while a number of moving lights, strobes and laser lights practically turned the dance floor into a set from a science fiction movie.
And the music! It was the perfect mix of dance and club all blended together in a continuous feast for the ears. I could easily get used to a place like this.
Beyond the dance floor, way in the back, was an opening that appeared to lead into what must have been the lounge Jordan warned me about. If it wasn't for the fact I had to use the bathroom, I probably could have avoided that area the entire night. Unfortunately, having worked myself up into such a frenzy in the car, I really had to go now.
All I really wanted to do was get a beer and go stand in some dark corner, listen to the music, watch those around me and maybe dance a lone dance or two. It didn't qualify as blending in, but this was officially research.
I made my way through a few clusters of people, mostly guys, and finally reached the archway that separated the lounge from the rest of the floor. Of course, it couldn't be clear of traffic and give me a quick shot in and out. Nooo. That would be too much to ask for. Instead, the entire wall beyond the opening was lined with every age, color and race known to man, all of them gay, all of them looking, all of them making me very nervous. All I had to survive this were my wit and my legs.
"Hey, there."
I looked up and saw a man, probably in his forties, looking me up and down. I think this officially passed as being “checked out.” There was nothing really distinguishing about him except for some gray hair in his moustache and neatly trimmed beard—and maybe the loose silk shirt he had on. If nothing else, the man had fashion sense.
Wasn't there some stereotype about gay men being keenly aware of fashion and all the latest styles? If that's the case, then I sure as hell could never be gay. It's jeans and T-shirts for me until I die.
"Hello.” I felt really strange responding, mostly because this was the first conversation I'd ever had with an older gay man. What did they talk about? Would it be anything I could relate to, or was I going to have to fake my way through it like I had sports at the anniversary party?
"I know you from somewhere, don't I?” He raised his hand and held his chin as if in deep thought. “Were you out at the park the last couple of nights?"
"Park? What park?” All the parks in LA, and I was supposed to know exactly which one he was talking about? “And what would I be doing at this park?"
"Griffith Park.” He licked his lips. “Looking for some action."
I shook my head. He peered at me even harder.
"I'd swear I've seen you somewhere before ... and it had to be recently. Have we ever...?"
"I'm straight,” I informed him. That solved that little trick of his memory and saved me from having to hear whatever it is he'd done with someone who either looked like or reminded him of me.
"Then we haven't...?"
"Oh, no!” Mama always told me there'd be days like these. Not really, but I'm sure if she knew where I was, she would have warned me appropriately. “No, no, no, no ... I could never ... not even if I was intox—” I was babbling. “I'm definitely straight. In fact, I am so straight that even straight people question how straight they are when they're around me because I give off such a strong straight vibe. It-It causes a lot of problems."
My talking like this caused a lot of problems. I was nervous, sweating profusely and still hadn't made it to the damn bathroom.
"Well...” He winked. “...your loss."
"Right.” I hurried away. Whatever.
Finally, I made it to the bathroom! Unfortunately, I'd barely made it through the door when another guy came up to me. Didn't they ever quit? Didn't they know the look in a man's eye that boldly tells them to stay the hell away from him until he's peed? Why couldn't he just get out of my way?
At least Jordan had warned me ahead of time to expect people to do this. Well, maybe not interrupting me going to the bathroom, but certainly coming up to me. I'd have to remember to thank him for that.
"What are you looking for?” he asked, doing the same checking-me-out routine the last guy did.
"The toilet,” I replied, somewhat impatient.
"The toilet?” He looked perplexed, like I was speaking a foreign language.
"The toilet.” I told him again. It wasn't that difficult of a concept to grasp. “The john, the can, the crapper, the potty, the throne, the urinal, the pisspot—all of which you are blocking me from getting to!"
"No.” He sighed. “I meant what are you looking for?"
"Looking for?” I asked through clenched teeth. “What did I lose?” What did he think I was looking for? I'd just told him! Considering where we were, chances are I was looking to get rid of something, not pick something up.
"Lose? Huh?” His state of confusion didn't im-prove. Realization hadn't dawned on him yet, if it ever would.
"Well, you obviously know something I don't.” I shrugged and looked at him expectantly. “Tell me what I've lost, and I'll tell you what I'm looking for. In the meantime...” I moved around him. “...I'll be over here relieving myself at whatever it is you call it in whatever little world you live in."
I didn't care where he went or what he did as long as I finally got to pee in peace!
There were three urinals on the left and three stalls on the right. All the doors on the stalls were closed, and the only open urinal was in the middle. As a rule, I always use an end one because that way I have at least some privacy on one side of me. Since I had to go so bad, though, I wasn't about to be fussy. I just walked up, looked right in front of me at the wall, undid what I needed to undo, freed what I needed to free and started doing what I needed so desperately to do—and did it feel fantastic.
Several satisfying seconds later, I began to notice a strange sound coming from behind me in one of the stalls. There was a rhythmic thumping accompanied by an occasional gasp. Either somebody was having a heart attack or there were two people in there doing the nasty.
Oh, come on! In a bathroom stall? That is so tacky.
Despite that, I couldn't help chuckling. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guy on my right staring at me. I hoped he didn't think I was chuckling because I was doing something other than relieving myself. That really would have been tacky.
"Nice,” he muttered.
"What?” I looked over at him, something I'd been trying to avoid, and found him staring down at my...
Well, he was staring down at me. I'd thought he might have been commenting on the commotion in the stall, but apparently he was critiquing my...
He was critiquing it.
"I said...” He finally looked up at my face. “...it's nice."
"Thank you?” I mean, what the hell was I supposed to say? Why couldn't this have happened in one of those bizarre dreams I'd been having instead of reality?
This place was a nightmare! Guys going at it in a bathroom stall, guys checking other guys’ p
rivates out at the urinals ... Was this normal? I mean, for crying out loud, I'd certainly never heard of these things going on in a straight bar.
Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, the man who'd thought he recognized me burst into the bathroom. It only took a few seconds for him to zero in on me, and then he made his announcement.
"You!” He pointed me out to everyone. “You're that pop star who did the striptease at the Ambas-sador the other night!"
Heads suddenly turned towards me. Even the thudding and gasping coming from the stall paused.
"You've got the most incredible ass I've ever seen!"
Stall doors unlocked, and pairs of heads peered out to catch a glimpse of who this moron was talking about.
Me!
"You must have me confused with someone else,” I stammered and zipped everything back up, “because I have no idea what you're talking about."
How in the hell had this guy seen me at the Ambassador? It wasn't a gay club, was it? Oh, God, what if it was? Hadn't Jenny said something about sugar daddies? Actually, that would explain why the group of girls who approached us on the beach earlier didn't show any interest in me other than admiring my ass. Hell, I hadn't even gotten a phone number out of it.
Yep, they were gay.
"His ass?” The guy next to me spoke up. “You should see his—"
"Shut up!” Jordan had said something similar to me earlier today, and I really didn't need to hear it again.
Speaking of that twit, I wished he was here to rescue me, but then he'd never let me live it down, especially after I made such a fuss about being able to take care of myself. Still, I had to admit that seeing him now would be a relief.
"Dude,” one of the guys peeking out of a stall called out to me, “I've got, like, all your albums!"
"Ignore him.” Another voice rang out. “Why don't you come in here, and the two of us can make some music of our own?"
"I am so out of here.” I all but ran out of that bathroom.
The guy who had come in after me gave me a look as I was leaving that told me he understood my discomfort at being in this situation but didn't really care. I'd never seen that kind of look in a man's eye before, and I didn't like it. I felt like I was an object instead of a human being, like a waitress at Hooters.