by Kage Alan
"Hardly anything at all.” Ryan smiled, because he knew his not telling her would annoy her.
"The usual.” I added. “You know, dominatrix stuff, the legend of Snooky, kissing, bondage, marriage, those sorts of things."
"Ohhhh ... you and Alan kissed? Coulda fuckin’ been me!” Kim looked like a deer caught in headlights. Apparently, that particular thought wasn't supposed to have been shared out loud. She recovered with the widest grin she could muster. “I mean, that's so sweet!"
I flashed Ryan a smug little look.
"And Snooky is the shit!"
"You're late,” Ryan informed her.
"Words a girl never wants to hear.” She cleared her throat. “I was getting some extra tutoring from this cute guy in the Biology Department, then I had to run home, throw on my grubs and tennis shoes so I could meet you guys."
"You don't have a biology class this semester.” This was just sick, sad and wrong.
"He doesn't know that. Meow meow meow.” Kim looked very pleased with herself. “Besides, he's gorgeous, and I think there's definitely something there this time."
"Are you sure he's straight?” Ryan and I asked in stereo.
"Didn't I just get done saying that I think there's something there this time?” She looked offended. “Besides, I caught him staring at my babies."
"Sheep stare at those things.” Ryan had a point.
"Hell,” I added, “I'm gay, and I've stared at them. I'm even willing to bet that Alan and Tristan have stared at them."
"I don't need this shit. My name is Kim.” She went to her happy place. “Ooh! There he is!” I turned to see where she was looking and waving. Sure enough, a dark-haired student a year or two older than myself was heading our way. Admittedly, he was cute, and, if he was tutoring biology students, smart, too. “Troy, these are my best friends Andy Stevenson and Ryan Vance."
"Andy Stevenson?” He perked up. “The one whose name was in the paper?” I groaned. Here we went again. “That really was a sucker punch you got dealt and to have it come from Tristan ... Everyone always talks about what a slut he is."
"No shit.” I couldn't even be nice about it anymore.
"I don't know how you missed that one.” Troy now turned to Ryan. “You're not the Ryan Vance?” He energetically shook Ryan's hand. While it was a relief to me not to have to perform that stupid little function, his attention towards Ryan struck me as a little odd.
"I have a reputation that precedes?” Ryan sounded amused that someone knew who he was and didn't appear antagonistic.
"So I understand.” Troy laughed heartily. “I'm certainly looking forward to seeing you at our next meeting."
"What meeting is that?” I piped up.
"At the Ten Percent Club.” He informed the three of us. “I'm the president of the organization, and I take it upon myself to personally make sure every name given to us receives our literature in the mail and, if possible, a personal invitation to their first meeting."
"Service with a smile! It doesn't get any better than this.” Kim acted as if she'd struck gold with this guy. “And so thoughtful of you, too! Can friends come?"
"I'll be getting along home.” I grabbed my backpack and coat. Ryan looked at me with a mixture of anger and terror while Kim appeared excited and completely clueless. I felt guilty about leaving him there on his own with the president of an organization that was inadvertently destroying his home life, but I had a surprise waiting for me and that took precedence. “See you guys later. Have your people get in touch with my people and we'll do lunch."
"What's the Ten Percent Club?” I heard Kim ask as I rounded the corner and left the building as fast as my legs could carry me.
* * * *
A surprise, a surprise, I was getting a surprise! Okay, maybe Alan didn't exactly say I was getting a surprise, but he did say he was going to make up for us not having spent any time together over the weekend. That could mean making out, watching TV, making out, eating a couple of microwave dinners, making out or lying in bed with one foot on the floor and reading our favorite Biblical passages, which was perfectly fine by me—or it meant we were going to make out. Either way, I was getting a surprise!
There is nothing more splendidly unexpected than something ... unexpected. I jogged down the path to my building and anxiously climbed the stairs until I was finally at my room. With a bit of luck, I'd have enough time to take a shower and put on something that still smelled freshly washed. Maybe I'd even put on cologne.
I swung the door open and could tell right away that something was very, very wrong. It was far too bright, and light was reflecting off of something on the far wall. Why was it so bright in here? Then it hit me—my posters were gone!
I checked to make sure I was in the right room then looked again to verify that my posters were, indeed, missing. Yep, one thing was as it should be while another wasn't anything close ... and what was reflecting light? I walked over to it and discovered ... a picture. No, worse—a drawing ... art. Even worse yet, a drawing in a frame. That alone meant it was pretty serious stuff. No Samantha Fox. No The Lost Boys. No Mackinac Island. No Metalstorm. Just this drawing that reminded me of a Duran Duran album cover.
"Do you like it?” Alan's voice asked from behind me.
"I didn't hear you knock,” I threw back flippantly.
"What a relief. For a moment, I thought I was going deaf.” He was too good at this verbal game.
"What is it?” I asked, pondering the loss of my precious pictures.
"It's a Nagel. I figured it was about time you dropped all those preadolescent posters and B-movie crap and started investing in something with substance."
"And you made this decision for me?” All those sweet things I'd told Ryan about Alan—suddenly, I wasn't good enough the way I'd always been anymore? I loved my B-movies, and I suddenly needed art? “Well, I can see exactly where this is going. Sure, you love me for who I am now—a spontaneous, intelligent and handsome young adventurer. But then you'll turn me into your image and dump me several years down the road because, in my quest to make you happy, I'm no longer the person you fell in love with. I'll grow old, unwanted and talk about previous lives I never really had just so I can sound interesting to people I meet on the street."
"Look,” Alan seethed, “if you don't like it, tell me and I'll take it down and you'll never see it again."
"It's not that I don't like it. Come on.” I tried to convince myself more than him. “I do like it.” I looked at it again. “Just not on my wall.” Something occurred to me. “Exactly how did you get it up there without my being here?"
"I have my ways.” He appeared pleased with himself.
"So, I'm being upstaged by a freshman?” I gave him a little smirk and moved closer to him. In turn, he closed the door behind him and moved right up to me.
"I don't know about the upstaged part, but I'm definitely feeling a bit fresh."
"I see.” Good! I had him right where I wanted him. Alan was feeling so good about what he'd done that I could probably ask him anything I wanted right now and he'd answer. I put my arms around him and pulled him closer so that I could whisper in his ear. “Where are my posters?"
"Where? Hmm...” he purred, “I don't remember. Did I accidentally drop them into a shredder, or a garbage bag?” Okay, he was playing with me. “Or did I just put them somewhere as insurance that you'll leave the Nagel up and continue to allow me to culture you?"
"Well, you know what happened to the last person who tried to culture me, don't you?” I warned.
"Yeah, and I believe you slept with him and the guy before him, too.” Alan pulled away far enough for me to see him raise his eyebrows and smile mockingly. “I just have to make sure I out-culture them all so that I don't have anything to worry about."
"Anything to worry about? What could you possibly have to worry about?” I asked, and watched as he broke away from me.
"What happens if somebody comes along who you're attracted to and he wa
nts to culture you? What am I supposed to do then?” Now he was angry. What the...? “I need to know if our relationship is going to crumble at the sight of another pretty face."
"Okay, psycho boy. Where is this coming from, all of a sudden?” Wasn't I supposed to be the insecure one? “As for our ‘involvement,’ we told each other we thought we were in love and you said I had your strength and ... everything else. Now you're wondering if I'm going to hop in bed with the next person who comes along? Did I miss something in a previous conversation?"
"Jordan would be your boyfriend right now if you'd stayed in California. If Tristan said he'd be your boyfriend, you'd have been with him.” Didn't that just make me sound a little easy? “All these other guys could have had you, and you would have stayed. How do I know that someone else won't come along and offer you something better?"
"Alan...” I reached up and held his face in my hands. “In case you haven't noticed, I'm the guy who gets dumped. I'm the one who gets left behind and I'm the one always struggling to stay one step ahead of the competition and impress someone so that I don't feel unwanted. I'm not the guy who does it to someone else, and I'm not going to start the first time an opportunity presents itself. As for the others...” Think fast! Think fast! Think fast! “Jordan is a very special friend, but he's not my boyfriend. You may resent that I've been with him, but without him, I never would have found out what was missing in my life."
"And Tristan?” he pressed.
"He was nothing more than a stupid mistake. I learned from that, and then you came along. Our first night together was also the night I made up my mind that if you wanted to see this through, I'd go the distance. I'm not about to put aside what I feel for you just to run off and play around with someone else. And it would kill me if you did."
"Is this it, though? Are you the one?” Alan was struggling to make some sense of it all.
"Am I the one?” I looked him straight in the eyes. “I don't know. But when I'm with you, you make me feel like the one."
"You're pretty smooth for someone who went to Fraser High School.” The edge of his mouth rose into the faintest hint of a smirk. Finally.
"What can I say? Thirteen years of being tortured by my peers forced me to take a long, hard look at myself. I guess I'm pretty good with words when it counts, and you're not so bad yourself for a guy who went to...” Where had he gone? Oh, shit! “High school. Want something to drink? I'm parched."
"You don't remember where I went to high school?” Alan's mood continued to lighten as he went to the refrigerator.
"Of course I do,” I lied. Well, I fibbed. It sounds better when you say it that way.
"So, then, where?” He opened the refrigerator.
"That place ... by your house.” I have the memory of a fruit fly. “Why do you always question everything I say?"
"Because you're full of ... What's this?” Good. A distraction! He held up a can of Coke.
"You told me the night of Kim's party that you like Coke. When I went to the store for my Pepsi, I also picked up what you like. I figured if we were going to be spending time together, it might be nice if you didn't have to constantly send me to the machine downstairs to get you some.” He eyed me, a crass comment forming on his lips. “Not that I mind going downstairs for you when you pass the machine on your way up...” Yeah, I was helping. “Let's just leave it at I was thinking about you, okay?"
"Let's,” he agreed, put the Coke back and handed me a Pepsi. “We'll just chalk it up to you being verbose again."
"Verbose?” I pretended to be shocked. “I spill my guts and you tell me I'm verbose? Perhaps I could get it out quicker next time if you'd quit flapping your trap so often."
"Flapping my what?” Alan leaned over and grabbed my sides. “If you're not careful, I'm going to make you do in your pants what you almost did the last time I did this."
"Uh-huh,” I teased, “right. The only reason you stopped last time is because I'd had enough and made you stop. You're not really tickling me. I just let you think you are."
"Ohhhh.” A sinister grin appeared on his face. “Is that so? I suppose you're going to tell me next that you got so tough by hanging out with what's-his-name on Eight Mile?"
"M and M?” He declined, and I put the bag of candy back down on the counter. “No, Eight Mile is kind of a shithole. I am tough, however.” I was daring him.
"So, you could stop me anytime you wanted, even when I do this.” He tightened his hands on my sides and flexed his fingers.
I jumped! I tried to fight it and keep a straight face, but the more I tried to convince myself what was happening wasn't real, the more he dug in and tickled.
"Where are you going?"
I had wormed my way off the bed, only he followed me down!
"You can stop me anytime you want, right? After all...” He shifted his attack, and I started laughing so hard there was a distinct lack of oxygen to my brain. “...you say you can make me. I'm waiting, laughing boy!"
Thank God for the phone because he was about ten seconds away from that disgusting little desired reaction he'd hinted about. Lucky for me, Alan wasn't feeling vengeful tonight, and he actually helped pick me up off the floor so I could answer before the machine did.
"Hello?"
Maybe my premonition about this being the calm before the storm was coming true. I put my finger to my mouth for Alan to keep quiet.
"Was that who I think it was?” he asked after I hung up.
"Yeah, the Lord of the Loins himself, and you aren't going to believe this.” I ushered him back over to the bed and sat down. “He says he feels really bad about everything that's gone on since the beginning of the semester, that I have every right to my ideas about gay life and he wants to make it up to me."
"How?” It was obvious what Alan was thinking.
"He wants to take me out to a party after spring break. I guess he knows a small gay group that gets together once in a while, and they discuss issues in the community and exchange ideas etcetera, etcetera."
"It sounds like he's making an effort,” Alan mused. “At what, I'm not sure, but it's an effort."
"Which makes me completely suspicious."
"I think you should do it.” Okay, that took me by surprise. “Maybe if you go with him, and he sees that you're making an effort, too, he'll leave you alone. It could work out for all of us if Tristan loses interest in you and starts focusing on someone else. What do you think?"
"You really think I should go?” He nodded. “I want to do it for the right reasons. Maybe you're right and I should go if it means getting him to lay off.” The phone rang again. “Well, that's what I get for not specifying how long I'd take to think about it.” I stood up and went back over to the phone. “This will fix his sorry ass.” And I picked the receiver up. “Okay, you cheap excuse for a blue-balled bungee boy, I'll accompany you to your wretched hive of Judy Garland-worshipping fairy bum-bumpers, but I want you to know that if you so much as look at my one-eyed meat whistle...” I felt my face go perfectly white. “Mom? No, I don't need to talk to somebody!"
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15
Perhaps driven by a distressing conversation with my mother—or the irrational fear of a strange and troubling party brewing just after spring break, I donned a multi-colored cape and looked at the viewing screen in front of me. I knew I was supposed to be looking for something, but I had absolutely no idea where I was or what I was supposed to be looking at.
"Almighty sashay, Fagman!"
I turned and saw Alan running up to me dressed in the skimpiest spandex outfit I think I've ever seen on a thin person. Furthermore, it had bright little flowers all over it, and he obviously wasn't wearing a cup.
"What is it, Pansy?” I heard myself ask. What the hell did I call him that for? Why did I suddenly have the voice of a game show announcer, and who was this Fagman guy?
"Look!” He raised a hand with a lace glove with frilly tassels on the edges and pointed ba
ck at the screen. “It's your archenemy, Count Cullions, protege of Gonad-Grinder Gevaultski!” I looked again and saw Tristan peering at me on the monitor. He was much heavier than I'd ever thought he would be, though the bulk of him resided in his feet and legs while his upper body was slimmer and slightly bent then became large again around his head. Ironically, he didn't have hair anymore, and the way he was rolling around on his feet—well, he reminded me of a giant...
"This is the most asinine thing I've ever seen in my life!” I announced. “I mean, he never looked like that, and why are we wearing these dippy-ass outfits? Does any of this make any sense to you?"
Sparks flew out of the monitor, and we jumped back as it shorted out while an alarm went off somewhere.
"We have to stop him before it's too late and he releases his lethal spermatium ray and impregnates all the women in Gonad City with clones of himself!"
"Quick, to the Rainbow Mobile!” I turned and ran, although I had no idea where I was going or what a Rainbow Mobile even was.
We rounded a corner and there, parked before us, was my 1979 Ford LTD, with a coat of paint that shimmered with all the vibrant colors of the rainbow.
"You'll be needing this, sir.” I turned and saw Ryan dressed in a butler's uniform made of leather. What he held in his hand made me take a step back.
"It's a buttplug, Bung.” I informed him.
"It's the key to the Rainbow Mobile, sir."
"I knew that.” I grabbed the thing out of his hand and gave it to Pansy ... er, Alan. “You drive."
"Oh, Fagman, don't tease."
"Right...” Okay, so I was supposed to drive.
The door opened on its own as soon as I was close enough to it. I sat down inside and looked for the ignition while my partner took unnecessary and great pleasure in strapping himself in. Finally, I noticed a hole in the dashboard that looked surprising like the name I'd called our butler.