Gay Fiction, Volume 1

by Mel Bossa

  “Where did they all come from?” Mary Jane asked Athena.

  Their supercharged energy was contagious. I couldn’t help smiling, especially when I saw Diego come down the stairs. He threw his arms around me and squeezed me tight. I felt the air pushed out of my lungs. “That was so fucking awesome! They loved us.” He pulled away from me. “And I love you.”

  I touched his sweaty face. “I love you, too.”

  “For fuck’s sake, take it upstairs to your room!” Halo appeared in a black glittery baby doll dress, fishnet stockings, and scarlet red heels. Her platinum-streaked auburn locks were pulled back into a slicked ponytail. She took each step carefully, as if it were a chore to even walk. She’d missed the sound check, the radio spots, the press. Nina had apologized on her behalf, explaining Halo had a touch of the flu and was saving up her energy to perform.

  The two hotel maids, who’d been assigned the task of babysitting her, delivered Halo backstage less than a half an hour before the band was scheduled to go on. She’d sworn to each member of the band she was sobered up from her drunken journey, but I suspected otherwise. Somewhere along the way, she had to have stolen a sip or five from a bottle of something. Otherwise, she’d be the first woman I’d ever known who was permanently drunk.

  “Well, that was fun,” she deadpanned to her band members. “Wanna do it again tomorrow night…say…in Los Angeles?”

  “You okay?” Athena asked her.

  “Never better,” she shot back. “I didn’t puke onstage this time, so may I please be released early for my good behavior?”

  “We’re just worried about you,” Mary Jane offered.

  “Is that why you stuck me with Hortensia and Bitch Face? Those two wouldn’t let me out of their sight. I got lectured in English, Spanish, and Russian about the badness of booze all fucking day long. Just the sound of their voices made me want to order a cocktail.”

  Nina suddenly appeared in our circle. “Halo,” she said, with caution. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  Halo shot her mother a look. “Cut the crap,” she insisted. “Who is it? Who’s here? And who’s got a smoke for me?”

  Nina swallowed before she spoke. “It’s Roger.”

  Halo shook her head. “No,” she said. “No…you tell that bastard to leave. I want nothing to do with him. Ever again.”

  “He’s not taking no for an answer,” Nina explained.

  “Then do something. Call fucking security. You’re the manager, Mom. Figure it out!”

  “There’s a lot of press here. If he makes a scene—”

  “Fine!” Halo’s eyes suddenly found me amongst the faces surrounding her. She grabbed me by the wrist. “Come with me.”

  I looked to Diego for help. “Go,” he mouthed with a reassuring nod and smile.

  Seconds later, Halo and I sailed into her dressing room, which was only half the size of my studio apartment back in Chicago. The room consisted of nothing more than a vanity table and mirror, a tan-colored plush leather sofa, and a mini-fridge. There was a sliding door in the far corner leading to a ridiculously small bathroom. Clearly, the Jetsetters hadn’t made it to the top yet, despite being headliners for the night. I had spied much larger dressing rooms further down the hall. Given the fast track the band was on, I knew it was just a matter of time—probably weeks—before they reached a new level of success.

  Halo leaned toward the lighted mirror. She seemed somewhat disgusted by her reflection. She swiped at specks of silver glitter on her cheeks. “Why would anybody want to buy anything from me?” she said aloud.

  “Because you’re amazing,” I answered from where I sat on the incredibly comfortable sofa. I hadn’t eaten much all day. I was worn out already, exhausted. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to be with Diego.

  It’s only the first night of the tour. You’re never gonna make it.

  Our eyes met in the glass. I wondered if Halo was about to cry. “No, I’m not,” she said to both of us. “I never will be.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” I said.

  “You’re wrong, lover boy.”

  “Am I? Then why are you here?”

  She held my gaze. “What kind of a question is that?”

  “I can’t figure you out. Either you’re incredibly ungrateful or you’re telling the truth,” I said. “You’re an amazing performer.”

  She shook her head. I could see the tears filling her eyes. “No, I’m not. I wear slutty outfits and I can carry a tune. That hardly makes me brilliant.”

  “Then why do it? Why starve for three years and work your ass off if you hate it so much?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you interviewing me?”

  “You have a chance right now that a million girls would kill for,” I said.

  “You don’t think I know that?” she said. “I feel like an asshole every time I go on stage. I took someone else’s spot.”

  “Then do something with it,” I said. “Something that matters.”

  “Everyone’s a sellout,” she said. I gave her a look of disbelief. It was a lame excuse and she knew it. “It’s true. In the beginning when people are hungry and desperate, they give a shit about the music they’re making. Then along comes a record company and convinces them nothing they’re doing is any good unless it can get on the radio.”

  “So? It’s a business,” I reminded her.

  “So, maybe this is the wrong business for me,” she said. “Maybe I’m not this kind of girl.”

  “Then what kind of girl are you?” I asked.

  The expression on her face shifted. “Do you like pancakes?” she asked. “Do you think I’d make a good waitress?”

  She turned suddenly toward the open doorway as if she sensed the presence of an intruder. Fury flooded her eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked the guy I assumed to be Roger. He took one step inside the dressing room. He was standing so close to me, I could see the dark hairs on his tanned knuckles.

  Immediately, I wanted to leave. The space was too tight for the three of us to share comfortably, especially if I was about to witness a battle between them. I had no business being in there, being privy to their private words.

  He stared at her with weary eyes and said, “You look like shit.”

  Halo sat down in a padded chair, still facing her reflection. In that moment, I thought she looked radiant. Granted, she was lit up by the strip of tiny bulbs surrounding the mirror, but there was a golden glow emanating from her like magic was seeping out of her pores. Her tone softened as she gazed at him. “I missed you, too.”

  “I saw the show tonight.”

  She locked eyes with him in the glass. “Half those songs were about you.”

  He grew tense. One of his knuckles twitched. “You’re still angry?”

  “Until the day you die,” she said. “Any idea when that will be?”

  “I hear you’re going back to L.A. tomorrow.”

  Halo reached for a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches. She lit a smoke, took a drag, tilted her head back, and exhaled. She reminded me of a movie star from the ’30s or ’40s. She was glamorous, yet brokenhearted. A beautiful, intoxicating mixture of melodrama and misery. She was a living, breathing tragedy.

  But she looked so great playing the role.

  “Did you come here to throw me a going-away party?”

  “The last time I saw you—”

  Halo was on her feet at once. She pointed a finger in his direction, jabbing the air. I thought she might burn him with her cigarette. “The last time I saw you, I got my heart broken. What are you planning to do to me this time, Roger?”

  He held out the envelope, presenting it to her. I noticed his fingers were shaking. “You asked me to write it all down. To put my feelings on paper.”

  She snatched the envelope out of his hand. “And?”

  “And I did.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I told you—” He glanced in my direction and back
to Halo. “Can we talk alone? In private?”

  Awkward. I’ll be going now.

  “You worried my best friend might think less of you if he hears about the shitty things you’ve put me through?”

  Wait…best friend? Me? When in the hell did Halo Jet and I become BFFs? Where was I when this love-fest started?

  Roger shrugged and slid the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. “Maybe,” he answered.

  That’s your cue. This is none of your business, Justin. Time to go. Maybe you and Diego can hit an all-night buffet before heading back to the room.

  I stood up to leave. Halo reached across Roger and shoved me back into the sofa. She grabbed a handful of her ex-boyfriend’s Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirt. “He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be,” she said. “Do you know what it does to me to see you, Roger? It rips me apart inside. Why did you come here?”

  He actually looked scared of her. “I’m sorry.”

  She pushed herself off him, like he was a wall in a swimming pool. “It’s a little late for apologies.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Brenda.”

  She returned to her seat facing the mirror. “My name’s Halo now.”

  “What?”

  “Halo. Halo! H-A-L-O.”

  He shook his head. “Jesus Christ. What have they done to you?”

  “Nothing you didn’t do.”

  “You can’t blame me for walking away. This isn’t the life I want. I told you that. I explained it to you. I’m an architect. All this I-wanna-be-a-rock-star bullshit is just too much for me to handle.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. I could’ve been a librarian or a waitress and I still would’ve been too much for you. We both know why you broke up with me. It’s because your mother’s an uptight bitch and she hates me.”

  His mother sounds a lot like your own mother, Halo. Does everyone’s mother hate you? Mine probably would. She’d be nice to your face, though.

  Roger didn’t argue. I knew what Halo had said was true. Just by looking at him, I could tell he was the wrong guy for her. He was too conservative. Too Republican. Too normal.

  “I just wanted to give you the letter,” he explained.

  She took another drag. “Well, you did,” she said. “Now go build something and jump off it. I’m redesigning my life, and you’re not in it.”

  He genuinely looked hurt. “Maybe someday we can be friends.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not a very good friend. I either fuck ’em or puke on ’em.”

  “I need to go,” he decided. “I’m leaving now.” He turned and started to walk out of the room.

  She rose to her feet again. She stopped him with her voice. “You already left me once.”

  “I hope someday we can put all of this behind us. You don’t need me, Brenda. You never did.”

  She stepped toward him. He didn’t flinch. “You’re fucking wrong. I needed you more than I needed anything. Instead, I lost you and now they say I’m gonna have a hit song. You served your purpose, Roger,” she said. “Now, get the fuck out and let me die in misery, okay?”

  He reached out as if he wanted to touch her, but she stopped him with the cold anger in her eyes.

  “Just know I’ll always care about you.” With that, Roger turned and walked away.

  Halo stepped out into the corridor. Apparently, she was determined to have the last word.

  “Yeah…well, fuck you, Roger! Fuck you and your pathetic buildings made of crap and broken fucking promises! I’m gonna write another song about you and tell the entire world what a cocksucker you are! It’ll be a number one hit and every woman in America will know my pain! And every time I sing it, I’ll dedicate it to you…you fucker!”

  *

  Halo’s interview with Geoffrey Cole seemed more like an interrogation. The lead singer was sitting in an oversized red leather chair beneath the harsh glare of a stark overhead lamp. We were stuffed inside a room no bigger than a closet, not far from the lobby of the hotel and the main floor of the casino. I wondered if this is where people who cheated at poker tables were brought and tortured. Through the thin walls, I could hear the clanging of slot machines and a lounge singer’s horrible rendition of Charlene’s “I’ve Never Been to Me.”

  Geoffrey reeked like cheap aftershave. My eyes burned. There was very little air in the room. I was more than ready to leave and return to my room, where I knew Diego was waiting for me.

  Hopefully naked.

  Halo had insisted I come with her to the interview. She told Nina she couldn’t get through it without me at her side.

  I was quickly discovering that Halo always got her way. No one seemed to have the energy, or the nerve, to challenge her.

  Geoffrey launched his first question. “Forgive me for saying this, but you seem a lot calmer sitting here than when you’re performing on stage. Any reason why?”

  I thought she was going to punch him in the face. “Calm?” she said. “You think I’m calm, Geoffrey?”

  She was teasing him, taunting him to push her over the edge and detonate. She would explode all over him and wipe the room with his ass.

  “You already have a reputation for being a bit…wild. Where does the anger come from?”

  “I’m a woman in the music industry who’s had her heart broken,” she said. “What do you expect?”

  “Do you hate the world?”

  She nodded. “Sometimes.”

  “Do you hate men?”

  She locked eyes with him. “Only if I date them.”

  “What about your family? I know who your mother is, but where’s your father?”

  She looked away. “No comment.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “No?”

  “My music is my family. The band. The kids who come to the shows—that’s my family. We’re all related because we want the same thing: to feel loved.”

  “There are rumors about you performing drunk on stage in Paris, screaming profanities at a record producer, and even a suicide attempt a year ago. Do you feel guilty about your behavior?”

  “Hey,” she said, “I never asked to be a role model. When we first started the band, I was mixed up in some pretty hard-core stuff. I gave it all up when things started to go my way.”

  “And now?” he asked. “Are things going your way?”

  She leaned forward. She glanced down at his mouth, then back up to his eyes. “You tell me.”

  “I’d say so. A hit single. Sold-out shows across the country. A highly anticipated debut album in the works.”

  “It all sounds yummy to me.” She grinned. “If I wasn’t on the verge of major success, Geoffrey, I’d be interviewing you instead.”

  He snorted and blushed. “I’m afraid I’m not as…interesting…as you are.”

  Her smile and kindness faded. “I’m sure that girl you brought with you to Las Vegas would disagree.”

  “Darla?” he said, surprised.

  “The one who looks like an escort,” Halo said. “Are you paying her well?”

  “My private life is—”

  “Pathetic,” Halo completed. “Look at her, Geoffrey. Ask yourself, what is a girl like that doing with a piece of shit like you?”

  “Have you ever been in love?” he threw at her.

  “Once,” she said. “But it’ll never happen again. I gave it up when I quit drugs. Both of them left me kind of numb.”

  “I’m not surprised,” he said. “Girls like you don’t usually have serious boyfriends.”

  “Girls like me usually steal other people’s boyfriends,” she explained. “Because we can.”

  “Where do you see yourself in five years, Halo?”

  “Under a tree,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll come visit me. To pay your…respects.”

  “Do you suffer from depression?”

  She shook her head. “No, but depression suffers me. It will probably become my trademark.”

  Geoffrey Cole gave Halo a genuine look of co
ncern. “Why do you think that is?”

  Halo leaned back in the comfy-looking leather chair. She looked over at me. I saw the haunted sorrow floating in her eyes, the evidence of the crushed hopes Roger had left behind. For a brief second, I caught a quick glimpse of the girl Halo once was. I saw a young Brenda, a girl with love and hope illuminating her pure heart with a beautiful glow. Before the boys. Before the band. Her world was once innocent. There was a shred of it still left inside her. You could see it, but you had to look closely.

  Halo wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand. She swallowed as if her emotions were starting to choke her and answered, “Because no one else can suffer as beautifully as I can.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I was getting worried about you,” Diego said when I walked into the hotel room. He was sitting on the edge of our bed with an acoustic guitar in his hands and a bottle of beer within reach. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of black basketball shorts. I wanted to push him back onto the bed and lick every inch of his delicious, warm skin. I fought my urges off and focused on his words. “I finished writing the song about us. The one I started in Chicago. You wanna hear it?”

  I moved to him. I kissed the barbed-wire tattoo that circled his left arm. I ran a hand through his messy, thick hair. I felt a pang of lust start to grow between my legs. I pulled away from him quickly. “I would love to,” I answered.

  I sank into a floral patterned love seat near the floor-to-ceiling window and watched Diego from across the room, where I wouldn’t be tempted to rip off his clothes and straddle his body.

  He strummed the guitar, cleared his throat, and started to sing. His voice was smooth and gentle. The song was soft and sweet. It reminded me of a lullaby. But then he launched into the chorus and the song shifted into a desperate plea for love.

  “Don’t walk away from me. Justin, can’t you see? My heart has been…crushed. I searched the world for you. But from our kiss, I knew. You are my sudden…hush. I love our silent stares, our teases and dares, and the softness of your…touch. Some say our love is wrong. So I wrote this song. ’Cuz I’m in love with you so much.”