Xylophone (15 page)

ever expressed affection for him.

“He worked on your mind until you thought

you needed him, maybe even loved him. Part of

you believed he understood you better than anyone

else—understood your loneliness and frustrations

and fears—and still wanted you, in spite of all

your shortcomings.”

“Exactly.” It was obvious Jonah also knew.

Hell yeah, he knew. And his knowledge hadn’t

come from a textbook. The realization made Dare

hurt all the more.

Only dimly did he realize two rivulets were

running down his face. He was silent, but his eyes

kept streaming tears. At least those wracking sobs

hadn’t seized him again. His eyes, though… his

eyes felt like engorged, sandy balloons sitting in

the summer sun.

“I didn’t want him to want me,” Dare said in

a choked voice. “I despised him. He made me feel

soiled. So why did I crave—?”

He didn’t have a chance to finish. Before he

knew it, Jonah was holding him again. “You

craved it for the same reason I did. But that didn’t

make us criminals and it didn’t make us whores.”

Dare returned the embrace, instantly, fiercely,

and buried his face in Jonah’s shoulder. A feeling

of rightness swept through him, the opposite of

how Pankin had made him feel, how Carver and

some of Dare’s tricks made him feel, and he didn’t

have the slightest impulse to resist.

“The disease carrier is out of your life now,”

Jonah said, “and you’re vibrant and beautiful

again.”

“So are you.” Dare had never believed

anything more fervidly in his life.

They eased apart. Donning an encouraging

smile, Jonah swiped his thumbs over the wetness

on Dare’s cheeks.

“I have to turn off these waterworks,” Dare

said. “I feel dehydrated.” It was then he noticed

Jonah’s eyes were also damp. Tenderly, he

touched the lashes of the left one. “You too.”

“We both needed to drain out.”

“Like lanced boils.” Dare half coughed, half

laughed. He reached for his glass of water.

“That’s actually a good analogy.” Jonah got

up. “Let me get some tissues.”

Expelling a breath, Dare flopped against the

back of the couch.
How did all this happen?

From the moment he’d gotten together with

Jonah, it was as if they’d begun walking gingerly

across a frozen pond, trying to build their comfort

level with each step. At first the ice cracked

alarmingly beneath their feet. Then they’d abruptly

fallen through.

The water hadn’t been the frigid shock Dare

had expected.

Jonah was with him. That was why. Jonah’s

presence not only made the plunge tolerable, it

somehow assured Dare he’d come out of this okay.

Now, he felt wrung out but lighter. He felt

relieved and safe and at ease. This cozy house

made him want to settle in, if just for the night.

He couldn’t, though. Too soon for that. In

addition, the circumstances were all wrong. If

something came of his friendship with Jonah Day,

it would have to come slowly. It would have to be

the opposite of Pankin’s and Wallace’s cleverly

orchestrated entrapments, the opposite of their

feverish insistence on gratification.

Dare took a few long swallows of the water

Jonah had delivered earlier. When the tissues

arrived, he immediately grabbed a couple and

vigorously blew his nose.

“Thanks for inviting me in,” he said as Jonah

resumed his seat. “I love this place. It’s like sitting

in the palm of a grandparent’s hand. A really

warm-hearted grandparent who isn’t a hoarder.”

Jonah

laughed.

“I

guess

I

do

like

understatement.”

The admission gave Dare pause. He thought

of the Sugar Bowl, of its exuberant
over
statement

and how jarring Jonah must have found that

atmosphere. Not to mention the performers who

contributed to it.

“Have you wondered,” he asked, “how I

became Pepper Jack?” He needed to explain that,

too. He wanted Jonah to understand everything. It

was the only way they could get close,
stay
close;

it was the only way of securing Jonah’s respect.

“I might have an idea.” Jonah turned down his

eyes and moved his fingertips in circles over the

threadbare denim covering his knees. “I mean, if it

was a look you chose for yourself, not something

your boss suggested.” He glanced at Dare. “But I’d

rather hear it from you than jump to my own

conclusions.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Dare summoned the

reason he’d never given to anybody else, had

barely even let himself face. His blithe “androgyny

is in” explanation had always been more of a

convenience than the honest truth. Jonah deserved

more than a few tossed-out words.

“I used to think,” Dare said, “that my stage

persona was a way of escaping the past. Pepper

Jack isn’t the girly boy Daren Boothe used to be,

but he isn’t the man Howard Pankin used to be. He

isn’t dainty, but he isn’t burly. He isn’t hairless,

but he isn’t hairy. He’s a one-of-a-kind creature,

sexless and sexy at the same time.”

“Which puts him totally outside the whole

victim-predator scenario.”

“True, but there’s more to it than that. A

coworker recently said something that got me

thinking. Now I realize Pepper didn’t help me

escape my past so much as he helped me claim it,

own it. But he’s still protecting me too.”

Judging by the look on Jonah’s face, he was

trying hard to understand. “I’m not sure I know

what you mean.”

Dare wasn’t sure he knew, either, but he
had

given the matter a lot of thought. “I’ve always been

a little… gender fluid, I guess. When I was

growing up it really messed with my head, thanks

to my schoolmates and my dear brother. So when

that shit with Pankin came down, and especially

when he referred to us as Beauty and the Beast, it

fucked up my perception even more. Being

feminine meant setting yourself up to be ridiculed

or victimized. Being masculine meant wanting to

ridicule or victimize. But my stage persona, which

came so naturally, somehow got me past all that.

He brought me home to myself while keeping me

out of danger.”

“So even though Pepper Jack reflects this

dual nature of yours,” Jonah said, “you think of him

as male?”

“Definitely. A
gay
male, like me. I made him

androgynous because when I’m in character, I’m

kind of flaunting my true self.”

Jonah’s face was still scrunched as he tried to

grasp Pepper Jack’s
raison d’être
.
“So he’s like a

vessel? You funneled your femme fatale side into

him?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s it. Seeming feminine

has only caused me grief in the past. Sometime

after the Pankin business, I probably trained myself

to be more masculine in my everyday life. I don’t

remember it being a conscious decision, but I

know I changed. Pepper expresses the other side of

me now.” Dare smiled. “But I made him one hell

of a strong vessel. Opaque, too. He protects the

person within.”

“By keeping the audience guessing,” Jonah

ventured.

“Something like that. They don’t know quite

how to view me, which means they don’t know

how to approach me. Am I a straight cross-

dresser? Or G, B, T, or I? Or am I just indefinably

queer? They can’t pin me down.”

“The way Pankin did. Or seemed to.”

Dare flinched around the eyes. “Yeah. I want

to assert who I am, but I don’t want who I am to be

taken advantage of. It’s as if I’m saying,
You can

find me desirable, but you can’t truly know me or

have me unless I want you to
.”

Brows drawn, Jonah pondered something for

a moment. “But you still get hit on, right? Pepper

Jack still attracts certain people.”

“Well, sure. It’s part of my job to be

seductive. When I’m not in costume, though, I’m

not all that special.”

Jonah studied him. “Yes you are.”

They sat quietly for a moment, not making eye

contact.

“I should go,” Dare said with reluctance,

bracing his hands on his knees and preparing to

rise. “It’s been a long, grueling weekend. In more

ways than one.”

“You sure you’ll be all right?”

“I’m sure.” Dare wasn’t so sure about Jonah,

whose

clenched

composure

had

become

worrisome. Regardless of what he’d said,
he

hadn’t drained out.

DARE had both hoped for and feared an invitation

to spend the night. He’d wanted to kiss Jonah but

didn’t feel quite right about kissing Jonah. Judging

by his confession the night before, Jonah felt

similarly torn. All this hesitation, the conflict

between approach and avoidance, had an obvious

cause. They’d invited two buzz-killing revenants

into their relationship, Howard Pankin and Clayton

C. Wallace, and the dead men’s presence had led

to a kind of sexual paralysis.

Enough was enough. Time to play past the

past.

When Dare got home, he called his folks in

San Diego. He hadn’t expected his father to be

around, but by some minor miracle, both of his

parents were there.

“I need to talk to you,” Dare began, “about

some important things that’ve happened.”

“Could this be a long conversation?” his

father asked.

“Could be.”

“Then let’s reconnect via computer. Where’s

Carver, by the way?”

“Out.” Dare had no idea where and didn’t

much care.

“Good.”

Dare made a face of pleasant surprise at the

phone, then said, “I love you.”

“We love you too, son.”

They ended up talking for almost three hours.

Dare appreciated the visual connection. For the

first time in what seemed like forever, he spoke

without censoring himself: about the startling

blessing named Jonah Day, the cathartic

unspooling of their pasts, the satisfaction of

rediscovering himself combined with the growing

pleasure of rediscovering trust.

His mother teared up and sniffled, on and off.

His father’s face settled into a contemplative

smile. Neither reaction was as simple as it

seemed, but Dare didn’t bother to separate and

examine all the emotional threads. He knew his

parents were happy for him, and relieved.

Especially when he said, “I realize I still have a

long way to go. But at least I’m moving in the right

direction. Finally.”

His parents were encouraging but not pushy.

They didn’t unleash a torrent of advice. It seemed

they, too, had learned some valuable lessons over

the past three years.

Then Dare grabbed his cell, stretched out on

his bed, and called Jonah.
Time to play past the

past.

“Hey,” he said in a voice he never used and

didn’t even know he had—marshmallow soft and

sweet. “You kissed me. Remember?”

“You mean—”

“Not too many hours ago. At your place.”

“Of course I remember. But I wasn’t sure
you

did. I wasn’t even sure you’d noticed.”

“Oh, I noticed. I was just a little frazzled at

the time. When I’m that upset I have zero clarity.”

“So… you’re calling this late to tell me

something I already know—that I kissed you?”

“No. I’m calling to ask you why.”

Disbelieving laughter, with an undercurrent of

anxiety. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not necessarily. I don’t want to misinterpret

anything. It could’ve just been a comfort kiss.”

Jonah paused. “It was.”

“It was?”

“Yes. So don’t have to freak out about it.”

“If you only wanted to comfort me, why

didn’t you kiss me on the cheek? Or the forehead?”

A brief pause. “Your mouth was closer.”

Dare grinned. “Okay, I’ll buy that. But… are

you still attracted to me?”

Jonah let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen,

Dare, I’m not sure what your point is, but I

promise you don’t have to worry about—”

“I’m not worried. Not anymore. I accept the