Gay Fiction, Volume 1

by Mel Bossa

  My anger started to surface. Who did this drunken girl think she was? She was nobody.

  I stood up and said, “I’m leaving.”

  She grabbed the sleeve of my black hoodie and pulled me back down. “Wait!” she said. “Don’t go.”

  “If I stay, you have to chill,” I ordered. “No more jokes at my expense.”

  She took a sip from her bottle. “Are you like one of those stalker fans that freak people out?”

  I folded my arms across my chest. It was freezing. Diego needed to hurry. “Until five weeks ago, I’d never even heard of you or your band,” I told her.

  “Then you’re retarded,” she said.

  “And you’re a miserable bitch,” I replied.

  My words didn’t faze her. She let out a small laugh in reply, and told me, “I’m changing my name to Halo.”

  “I don’t know you very well, Brenda, but you’re not the angelic type.”

  “Halo Kitty Kat and the Sour Kittens,” she said. “Whaddya think?”

  I tapped the bottle of vodka. “I think you’re shitfaced.”

  “I think you’re right.” She let out a big, dramatic sigh. She leaned back against the dirty brick wall and announced, “Maybe I should just be Halo Kat.”

  I nodded in agreement. “That’s a cool name.”

  “Well, then…my name’s Halo Kat now. Tell everyone you know.”

  “Hello, Halo Kat,” I said.

  She smiled. “Hello, lover boy.” She held the bottle out to me as if it were a peace offering. “You wanna drink?”

  “No, thanks. I’m fine. My friend Darla had to go call this guy—a critic or something like that. She met him in an elevator and he asked her out. She’s a little crazy but—”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just shut the fuck up and get drunk.”

  “I don’t really drink much,” I said.

  “Why not?” she asked. “Is there something wrong with you?”

  “Probably,” I replied.

  “Welcome to the town of disappointment…whatever your name is.”

  “Justin Holt.”

  Brenda giggled a little. A mouthful of vodka rolled down her chin and between her boobs. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, dropping her unlit smoke and smearing her cherry red lipstick. “I’m sorry for laughing,” she said. “Justin Holt sounds like a soap opera name. Like you’re the star of The Young and the Restless or some shit like that.”

  “I always thought my name sounded kind of plain,” I said.

  She closed her eyes. “Plain is good, Justin Holt.”

  “Is your life glamorous…Halo Kat?” I asked.

  “I’m sitting in an alley that smells like cat piss and cigarettes. Yeah, it’s really fucking glamorous.”

  “I think you’re a really good singer.”

  “No…I’m nothing special. There’re lots of girls like me out there. I moved to shitty Los Angeles a few years ago. And my life has been ruined since.”

  “You make it sound like it sucks,” I said.

  “It does,” she said. “The money sucks. The people suck. I suck. Be glad you’re not in this business. At least we got a new manager. I had to beg that bitch to take the job because she hates me. But we need her…Well…at least I do…” She took another swallow of booze. “Christ, I can’t believe I’m telling you this crap. I’m spilling my problems to you. It’s a bad habit of mine…talking too much…to anyone who will listen. Even a stranger.”

  “Hey,” I said. “I don’t think we’re strangers.”

  “Well, it’s not like we’re best friends or anything. I just sat down here because you look kind of cool and I am avoiding an interview with Geoffrey Cole. I thought we could share some vodka, chat a little…be my friend for a few minutes and then I’ll leave you alone. And when your friend gets back, you can tell her all about it. And then you and Diego can go off and adopt Chinese babies or whatever it is you two fuckers are planning to do.”

  I smiled. “Darla will probably freak out if she gets to talk to you. She’s the one who wants to be a singer.”

  “God help her.”

  “Maybe you could give her some advice or something—”

  “And tell her what?” she asked. “How shitty this business is? That I’d rather be a waitress at IHOP?”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “I’m over this,” she said. “I’m bored with it.”

  “But it’s just beginning for you. Darla said they’re even playing one of your songs on the radio now.”

  “Anyone with tits can get a song on the radio, lover boy.”

  I looked her in the eye. “Then why do it? Why be in a band if it makes you so miserable? Clearly you’re not doing it for the money.”

  Before she could answer me, her eyes closed and she either passed out or fell asleep faster than anyone I’d ever met. I shook her a little and tried to wake her up. “Hey,” I said. “Halo Kat, are you all right?”

  Darla seemed to appear from nowhere. Suddenly she was standing next to me in her faux fur, checkered skirt suit, and vinyl boots, chewing on a mouthful of gum that smelled like watermelon. “I called him!” I jumped at the sound of her voice. “We’re getting together tonight. He’s interviewing a band and I get to go with him—isn’t that cool?” Darla stopped mid-thought and shifted her focus to the drunken singer lying next to me. “Oh my God, what happened to her?”

  “I think she passed out. She’s a little drunk,” I explained.

  “A little?” Darla laughed. “She’s wasted.”

  “She drank a lot of vodka.”

  Darla slipped the bottle out of Halo’s limp grasp and inspected it. “She drank the cheap stuff, too,” she said. “That’s a shame. A girl should know better.”

  “What should we do?” I asked. “Just wait for someone to come out and take care of her?”

  Darla shrugged. “I don’t know.” She lifted the lid of the Dumpster and dropped the empty bottle inside it.

  “Knock on that door and see if you can get somebody out here,” I suggested, gesturing to the rusted metal stage door with a quick nod. “Hurry up, Darla. She doesn’t look so good.”

  Darla knocked on the door softly, as if she were terrified her knuckles would bruise. “Hello?” she said to the door. “Soon-to-be-famous people…we need your help out here!”

  “Knock louder,” I told her. “No one’s going to hear you.”

  The stage door nearly flew off its hinges when an older woman exploded into the alley like a misfired bullet. At first I thought someone’s angry mother had somehow gotten backstage and now had found her way to us, and she wanted to ground us for life. She looked like she was running late for a PTA meeting or a craft fair. Her frosted blond hair was cut short in a shag. Her eyelashes were coated with too much mascara. Her dark, stormy gray eyes were narrow and looked mean. She seemed like she was permanently pissed off. She was wearing a bright pink cable-knit sweater over a white oxford shirt, a double strand of pearls, khakis, and black loafers. Was she the lost host of a cooking show? A chaperone for a church youth outing?

  Or the band’s new manager?

  She shoved her way past Darla, looked down at Halo sprawled across the stack of wooden pallets, and spat, “Jesus H. Christ, not again!” She lifted her icy stare and locked her tempestuous eyes on Darla and me. “Who in the hell are you two?”

  Darla extended a hand. The woman just stared at it, annoyed. “I’m Darla Madrid and I’m a big fan of Broken Corners.”

  “You mean Sour Kitten,” I corrected her.

  Both of the women turned to me, blinked.

  “Brenda wants us to call her Halo now,” I explained. “Halo Kat, to be exact. And she’s changing the name of the band…to Sour Kitten.”

  Darla giggled. The woman fumed.

  “Like hell she is. What happened to her?”

  I shrugged. “She was just talking to me and she passed out.”

  The woman placed two fists on her hips. “That figures.
” She took another look at Halo and shook her head. “I didn’t want this job. I still don’t want this job.”

  “But they’re a really good band,” I said, still not knowing how this woman was related to them. I was too terrified to ask.

  “Yes,” she scoffed, “but just like the rest of the good ones, they’re pissing it all away—before they even have anything.”

  The metal door creaked open. Diego stepped outside into the moonlight. Immediately his eyes met mine. His face bloomed into a beautiful smile. He moved over to me, and it seemed no one else existed in the world. He slid his arms around me, pulled me close to him, and we kissed softly. I inhaled deeply, breathing in the smell of him. “Five weeks is way too long,” he whispered. “Never again.”

  The woman cleared her throat to get Diego’s attention. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Darla’s mouth hanging open, either in awe or envy.

  Or both.

  “Diego,” the woman said. “I hate to interrupt your little meet-and-greet here, but we’ve got big problems.” She gestured to Halo with a quick jerk of her head.

  He looked down and struggled to hold back his laughter. “What are we supposed to do with her, Nina?”

  “Help me get her back to the hotel and sober her up. We’ve got an interview with Geoffrey Cole in an hour,” she explained. “Here.” She handed him some cash. “Put her drunken ass in a cab.”

  “Can’t we just cancel the interview?” he asked.

  Nina shook her head. “Not likely. That little prick won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Can you stall him?” I suggested. She shot me a knifing look that told me to keep my mouth shut.

  “Nina, there’s no way we can get her sobered up. She’s been drinking all day,” Diego said.

  “Just get her out of here until I can figure out what to do,” Nina said.

  “Me and Justin will take Brenda to the hotel in a cab,” he decided, taking charge. “Nina, stay here while Athena loads up the van. It’s her turn to be the roadie tonight.”

  Nina shook her head in disgust and said, “She’s not good enough to act like this. I hope you know that, Diego.”

  “I know,” he said.

  Her tone softened. “You’re a talented guy. You deserve better,” Nina continued.

  “She’s the lead singer of my band,” he reminded her. “It’s my job to take care of her. And yours.”

  “Great,” she said. “But who the hell’s gonna take care of you?”

  Diego turned to me. Our eyes locked, speaking silently.

  Nina patted the pockets of her khakis like they were on fire. “Jesus H. Christ, where’s my phone? Pray God he lets us reschedule this interview.” She ripped open the stage door and screamed at the top of her lungs, “Mary Jane, where in the fuck is my cell phone?”

  Seconds later, Mary Jane stumbled into the alley in pink ballet slippers and denim overalls. Her eyes were heavy and half-closed. Her bone-straight blond hair didn’t move, not even in the chilly night breeze that was tumbling down the alley.

  Mary Jane handed Nina a cell phone with a slow, fluid movement of her arm. She could have a second career as an underwater dancer. She was a lost mermaid who had come to shore for the single task of pleasing Nina.

  “Where’s Brenda?” she asked. Her voice was fairy-sweet.

  “She’s drunk. And we’re supposed to call her Halo now apparently,” Nina seethed. Her eyes scanned Mary Jane’s face, focusing on her sleepy eyes. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

  Mary Jane tried to look away, but it seemed like she was stuck in a vat of invisible molasses. Every movement she made was laborious. “Nothing.”

  Nina raised an eyebrow. “No?”

  “I’m just really tired, Nina.”

  “Don’t lie to me. What did you take?”

  Mary Jane leaned back in her ballet slippers and almost crashed against the brick wall of the building. Nina grabbed an arm and steadied her, held her up. I’m not sure if Mary Jane realized she’d almost fallen. I don’t think she even knew where she was: what city, what state, what planet. “I just needed something to calm down.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Mary Jane, get in there and sort yourself out.”

  It took her a few seconds to figure out how to open the stage door. “It’s no big deal, Nina,” she said to the metal.

  “I will deal with you later.”

  Mary Jane had success with the door and stepped back inside. “Fine,” she said before the door shut behind her.

  Nina started to pace, caged and wild. She flipped open her phone and pressed some buttons, jabbing at them with her index finger. “Ungrateful bastards,” she muttered. She put the phone to her ear, waited, and then said in a pleasant, forced tone, “Yes, this is Nina Grey calling for Geoffrey Cole.”

  “Justin,” Darla said, touching my sleeve. “Geoffrey Cole,” she repeated. The expression on my numb face must have told her I had no clue as to who or what she was talking about. “That’s the guy I have a date with later tonight,” she explained. “He’s the guy who asked me out.”

  “Are you serious?” I said.

  “Is this cool or what?” She moved away from me and stepped in Nina’s direction. At the sound of Darla’s not-so-stealthy approach, the lioness whipped her head in Darla’s direction and warned her from coming any closer with her deadly stare. “Excuse me,” my fashionable friend said. “I’m Darla Madrid.”

  Nina snapped her phone closed. “So?”

  “So, I think I might be able to help you.”

  Nina’s fists returned to her hips. I wondered if she had a secret identity. Maybe if someone pissed her off enough she’d transform into a female version of the Incredible Hulk. Or shift from Dr. Jekyll into Mrs. Hyde. “Convince me,” she instructed.

  Darla flipped up the collar of her short-waisted fur jacket and said with pride, “I have a date with Geoffrey later tonight.”

  Nina raised an eyebrow. “Do you work for him?”

  “What?” Darla stammered.

  “Are you a reporter?” Nina demanded. “An escort?”

  “Um…no…I work in cosmetics. Can’t you tell?”

  “But she wants to be a singer,” I explained.

  Nina’s eyes turned to me, silencing me. “Doesn’t everybody?” she sneered in my direction.

  “Take a look at Brenda—”

  “Halo Kat,” I reminded Darla.

  “Halo,” she said, correcting herself. “She’s in really bad shape.”

  “That’s no secret,” Nina answered, glancing over at the passed-out queen sprawled across her wooden throne.

  “So,” Darla began. “I can spend some time with Geoffrey and keep him…occupied. That will give you some time to sober up Halo and—”

  Nina didn’t have to think about Darla’s suggestion for very long. Within the sliver of a second, she grabbed Darla by the arm and insisted, “Come with me.”

  Nina pulled the stage door open and led my star struck friend inside. Immediately, I thought of Alice’s initial descent into Wonderland. Darla let out a squeal of delight, followed by a long, drawn out “Oh…my…Gawd!”

  “Darla, wait!” I called after her but she was gone.

  The metal door slammed shut behind them.

  A sudden calm seemed to fall over the alley like a soft blanket.

  Diego looked at me and said, “I feel really bad, Justin.”

  “What for?” I asked.

  He reached for my hand and our fingers meshed “All I’ve wanted to do is spend time with you since I got here,” he said. “Do you know how crazy this makes me? You and I have waited for so long to be together.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “The five weeks sure felt like forever.”

  “And now that I’m here…and you’re here…this has to happen. Drunk Brenda and a stupid interview.”

  “You have stuff to do,” I said. “It’s cool. I understand.”

  I felt his hands on my waist. He pulled me to him. Our mouths met a
nd we almost kissed. Instead, he spoke. “Come with me to the hotel.”

  “Seriously?” I said. “Won’t I just be in the way, Diego?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll make sure Brenda is okay. I’ll cover for her during the interview with that Geoffrey guy, and then you and I can take off.”

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked. I’m sure I looked like a grinning idiot, but I couldn’t stop smiling. Diego had a euphoric effect on me. One touch from him and I was high, drifting like a kite above the alley.

  He grinned. “Wherever you want to take me,” he said. “I’m all yours now.”

  My smile didn’t fade but a gust of worry brought me back down to the ground.

  Yeah, the voice in the back of my mind said, but for how long will you be mine? I can’t compete with this chaos. My life is dull. Boring. Simple.

  I shook the fear away and asked Diego, “Would you settle for some takeout Chinese and a hot make out session?”

  He leaned in, kissed my forehead, and said, “I don’t deserve you.”

  “No,” I said. “Probably not. But the feeling is mutual.”

  His grin crept across his face. “Oh yeah?”

  I placed a palm against his cheek, looked him in the eyes, and said, “I’ve never met someone like you, Diego.”

  He reached up and covered my hand with his. “That sounds like a bad thing.”

  “No,” I said. “I think you’re amazing.”

  “You just like me for my guitar.” He stopped. “Speaking of which, let me grab my acoustic. I’ll be right back.”

  He moved to the metal door.

  “I’ll be here,” I said.

  “Promise?” he asked, standing in the doorway.

  Our eyes locked. It was in that moment my lust, intrigue, and fascination with Diego shifted into something else. I felt it happen.

  Standing there in the alley, I fell in love with Diego Delgado.

  “I promise.”

  “I really missed you, Justin.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’m glad. Because I missed you, too.”

  Diego disappeared inside.

  Halo Kat suddenly stirred. She sat up, puked all over herself, and dozed off again.

  The stage door opened seconds later. I expected to see Diego standing there with his guitar case in hand. Instead, a very angry Athena was pursuing a very dazed Mary Jane. I had no choice but to witness their confrontation as it happened.