“Eh,” the Queen said. “It could go either way. Why don’t we go on a date first before we start talking forever.”
“Oh joy!” the Homo Jock King cried. “Oh wondrous joy! I feel the tears coming on again, this time because of happiness!”
(“Wow, Darren,” Paul said. “You sure cried a lot.”
“That’s because I was so overcome with joy,” Darren said through gritted teeth.
“He’s just a big softie.” I patted his hand. “Aren’t you, bae.”
“You know what?” Darren said. “Let’s not drag this out any further. I’ll just finish it up.”
“You better not make me—”)
Darren winced as the Queen screamed, “Take me, you paragon of manly virtue! Take me here in the balcony and let me feel the entire might of your ten and a half inches of pure, stiff—”
(“Ten and a half inches,” I said, laughing so hard that tears came to my eyes. “You’re a
liar
.”)
“Oh my god,” the Queen moaned as Darren dropped his pants. “You weren’t lying at all. That has to be the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. I need you to mount me. Mount me like… like… like something mountable.”
(“Sandy. I swear to god if you don’t stop laughing—”
“You c-couldn’t even th-th-
think
of w-what I wanted you to
mount
me like! H-holy
shit
.”)
And then they totally had butt sex and the Queen said she was so in love with Darren and that’s the end of the story.
(“That’s
not
the end! It really ended like—”)
The Homo Jock King begged the Queen to fuck him, so she whipped out her thirty-inch dick and fucked him so hard that he came untouched and then he said he loved her, and the Queen said, “Let’s just see where this goes. I like you, but not that much. Now, go get me a shot of tequila and some pretzels because I’m hungry. God help you if the pretzels are too salty, though.”
And that’s how the story
really
ended.
The end.
COREY, PAUL,
and Vince were staring at us.
Darren and I were glaring at each other.
“That,” Corey said with a cough. “Um. I don’t know what that was.”
“The truth,” I said. “Except for everything Darren said. That part was a lie and I’m sure he feels really bad about it.”
“And then we walked up to the Lair and found you naked,” Vince said excitedly. “I love it when stories come together like that. It gives me goose bumps. Like when they referenced things in
Transformers 2
that happened in the first one. Shia LeBeouf just can’t catch a break.”
Everyone stared at Vince now.
He pouted. “I contribute things.”
“Well,” Paul said. “I don’t—”
“Are you finally ready to order?” Santiago asked, appearing out of nowhere. “I would hate for the father accountant to waste away to nothing.”
I picked up my knife, ready to throw it at his face, but Darren stopped me by grabbing my wrist, quietly reminding me that I wouldn’t do well in prison. Santiago, of course, took that as a sign that Darren was protecting him and offering a pledge of his undying love and proceeded to all but give him a lap dance while I did nothing but laugh at the both of them. It was awesome to see Darren so uncomfortable. I wondered how many other twinks I could find that he’d fucked.
I kept laughing until I saw Paul frowning again.
We ordered and Santiago disappeared inside.
“Sandy,” Paul said. “Would you join me in the bathroom?”
Uh-oh.
“I don’t really want to,” I said. “You learned to go by yourself when you were four. You can still do it. I believe in you.”
“Oh,” Paul said. “Well, it’s a good thing I wasn’t really asking you, now was it.”
That was not a good sign.
“If you’ll excuse us,” I said to the others. “Sometimes, Paul has issues using public restrooms and I have to stand guard in front of the stall so he can shit and—”
“Sandy!”
“Coming, Paul.”
I followed him inside through the restaurant, loud mariachi music playing in the speakers overhead. He led the way through the door labeled Señores. He closed the door behind us and bent over to look under the stalls to make sure we were alone. Then he locked the door, turned to me, and said with complete seriousness, “Is Darren keeping you hostage?”
I said, “What.”
“Did Darren Mayne kidnap you for something nefarious and is now keeping you hostage?”
“Paul. Seriously?
That’s
what you come up with?”
His eyes widened. “Can he hear us? Did he make you wear a wire? Of course he would have. He’s devious. Why didn’t I think of that? Blink once for yes, twice for no. Has he done things to your anus against your will?”
I groaned. “No, he hasn’t done anus things against my will. What the hell.”
“Uh-huh, and that’s just exactly what someone who has been kidnapped would say. If you fear for your life and need me to rescue you, say potato.”
“I’m not saying potato because I
don’t
fear for my life and don’t need to be rescued!”
His eyes were wide and his face went pale.
“What?” I asked him.
“You just said potato,” he whispered. “He
did
kidnap you. Is he holding you for ransom? Is he using you carnally for his pleasure? How big is his dick and, as a sidebar, is he cut or uncut? Vince is—no. Focus, Paul. Focus on what’s important. I can always ask about dick size and if his penis has a hoodie later after I’ve saved you from his clutches. We need a plan to get you to a safe house. My house isn’t safe. Yours isn’t either. Okay, here’s the plan. I’ll run interference and give you my debit card. The pin number is Nana’s birthday minus the number of times I’ve seen
Star Wars
. Hint, the answer is ninety-seven. Withdraw two hundred dollars in cash at the nearest ATM, then go to the Motel 6 near the Orange Grove exit on the freeway. Check in with the name Gustavo Tiberius and use a German accent. Use the cash you’ve withdrawn. Wait for me to arrive and we’ll figure something out.”
“Are you done?” I asked him.
“I think so.” He shook his head. “Whoa. That was kind of a head rush. How cool am I at planning escapes from kidnappers? Is that a job? Is that a thing I can do for a living? How much do you think it would pay? I’d be sort of like a superhero. I don’t look good in spandex. Never mind. The dream is dying. Wait for it…
wait for it
. Okay. That dream is dead.”
“Gustavo Tiberius?” I asked. “
That’s
the name you come up with?”
He shrugged. “There has to be
someone
in the world with that name. He’s probably badass and does things like gunplay and is into BDSM or something.”
“That doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to redirect the conversation. “Focus. Paul. Are you with me?”
Paul nodded. “I think I am. Probably.”
“Okay, repeat after me. I have not been kidnapped.”
“I have not been kidnapped,” Paul said.
“No,” I said. “I meant—Jesus Christ. Paul.
I
haven’t been kidnapped.”
“Am I still repeating after you, or?”
“No!
Paul
!”
“Sandy!”
“What are you doing!”
“Why are we yelling at each other in the bathroom of a Mexican restaurant!”
“I don’t know!”
“Stop yelling!”
“
You stop yelling
!”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, something I learned early on that I needed to do with Paul instead of slapping him upside the head. It almost didn’t work this time. “Why would you think Darren kidnapped me?”
“Because,” Paul said. “One minute you claim to hate him and the next you’re like, totally in love with him. Or something. But it’s not a
normal
love. Santiago was hitting on him right in front of you and you didn’t even get jealous at all. You were
laughing
at him, like you thought his pain was funny.”
Because his pain
was
funny. Fucker couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. “Have you ever thought that maybe I’m just not a jealous person? Or maybe that I’m just secure enough in Darren’s feelings for me?” I almost couldn’t say the words with a straight face, but then I remembered Mike’s warning and the way his chest hair had felt in my fingers. That chest hair was a promise to save a gay bar and pave my way to queendom. I was Meryl Streeping the shit out of this. Paul was going to be so proud of me when this was all over. Or completely appalled. It was fifty-fifty either way.
Paul rolled his eyes. “You hide behind Helena and I’m fat. We really don’t do ‘secure enough.’”
“Never leave me,” I demanded.
“Never,” he promised. “Now, tell me.”
It hurt, a little (maybe even more than a little), to lie to him. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know? What’s the point of getting riled up over something that’s not going to last?” That was… as close to the truth as I could get. And as close as I wanted it to be. Anything more seemed like it would reveal things I didn’t even want to think about.
“Sandy,” Paul said, shaking his head. “Darren’s wanted you forever. Just because he slept with everything that had a pulse doesn’t really change that. Sure that looks bad and you should probably get him tested for chlamydia before having sex again, but he actually cares about you. More than I think he knows what to do with. Why do you think it took him this long to finally act on it? And don’t deny it, either. I know he’s the one that came to you. I’m just surprised you agreed so quickly.”
“How do you know?” I asked, wondering why my voice sounded hoarse.
“Do you really think anybody else would have told the ridiculous story with you about how you two got together?”
“You would have,” I said.
“Well, yeah,” he said. “That’s because I love you.”
“I know,” I said. “So why would—
oh
.” Well, shit. “He doesn’t
love
me. Are you out of your
mind
?”
“Okay, so maybe it’s not love. Not yet. Not everyone can be my parents.”
“Or you and Vince.”
“Yeah, it’s genetic, I think. But Darren cares about you, Sandy. I know he does.”
Resolve… weakening. “He’s a bit of a dick,” I said, flailing for something.
Paul rolled his eyes. “Well it’s a good thing you’re a bottom, because you’re an asshole, so the two of you fit together just fine.”
“Wow,” I said. “That was a thing of beauty.”
Paul looked rather pleased with himself. “Thank you. Wordplay is just like foreplay. You have to just ease into it a little—”
“Yeah, you’re losing me now.”
“Right. So. No shoes are dropping. Darren thinks you’re super cool.”
“Great, so now we’re twelve.”
“Sandy.”
“Yeah, sorry. Deflecting is like a reflex.”
“Get angry!”
“Whoa there. That’s why I’m in therapy so I don’t do that anymore.”
“Sandy!”
“Fine! Grr. I’m angry.”
“You don’t look angry.”
I bared my teeth.
“Okay, that’s a little better. Are you going to let that twink trash hit on your man?”
“No.”
“I can’t hear you!”
“No!”
“What are you going to do!”
“I’m not going to let him hit on my man!”
“And how are you gonna do that?”
“I’m gonna march right out there and give him a piece of my mind!”
“Damn right! And then what’re you gonna do?”
“And then I’m going to murder the twink trash and bury his body in a shallow grave in the desert where the coyotes and javelinas will eventually get to it and pick it clean and maybe his sun-bleached bones will be discovered like, ten years from now, but it won’t matter because all physical evidence will have dissipated in the summer sun and the monsoon rains! I will have gotten away with it. It’s the perfect goddamn crime and it
begins this night
.”
“Holy shit,” Paul breathed. “I was going to say just kiss Darren or something. Dude. That was
dark
. You’re
dark
.”
“
Kiss
him?” I screeched. “Why the hell would I
kiss
him?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Paul asked, confused. “He’s your boyfriend.”
“Because he’s—oh. Wait. Right. Riiiight. Okay. Okay. I see where you’re going with this. That’s just. I don’t. Um. Just.” I’m pretty sure my synapses were misfiring. And my nipples were hard. I didn’t know how those two things were related but that they had to be since they were both happening at the same time. I felt aroused and confused. It was like I was twelve again and standing in front of the men’s underwear section at Kmart, looking at the headless torsos on the Hanes packages and wondering why I was getting sweaty.
“Are you sure he hasn’t kidnapped you?” Paul asked, starting to get suspicious again.
“Yeah,” I said, my brain slightly scrambled from the thought of
kissing
Darren Mayne
. “Sure. I think you’d look lovely in a toga at my taco party next Easter. You know what they say, Togas for Jesus will always please us.”
“Oh no,” Paul whispered. “I
broke
you.”
I WENT
into the restroom as
Mamma Mia!
Meryl Streep. I came out as
The River Wild
Meryl. That’s the one where Kevin Bacon was an evil douchebag and tried to ruin the Streep family rafting trip and Meryl got all badass and killed him. Or something. I hadn’t seen that movie in a really long time, I just knew that Meryl was badass in it and I was badass now, therefore I was
The River Wild
Meryl. This Meryl would
never
allow twinkie waiter trash to get up on her man right in front of her. In fact, this Meryl would probably have his balls for the main course if he even tried such a thing. I wished I was wearing river-rafting clothes, but then I realized I didn’t own any, so I was going to have to make do with what I had on.
Besides, if Meryl Streep could eat a waiter’s balls for dinner, then so could I. It didn’t matter what we wore.
Helena was happy with the threat of violence.