The Queen & the Homo Jock King

by T. J. Klune

  He winked at me. I felt slightly dirty. “Or maybe, somehow we’ll all learn a valuable lesson about truth and freedom and love, and this will end in a choreographed musical number where you ride off into the sunset with the man of your dreams.”

  I stood up quickly and leaned over the table, grabbing a fistful of his chest hair and yanking him forward until his face was inches from my own. “I’m going to say this once, and once only, so you better be listening. Are you listening to me, Mike?”

  He nodded slowly as a little bead of sweat dripped down between his eyes and onto his nose.

  “I’m doing this only because Vaguyna loved this place. I’m only doing this because you’re paying me to. I’m only doing this because I will never want the fucking bigots to win. But I am not doing this because of Darren Mayne. There will be no happy ending with him because I don’t want there to be, got it?” I jerked his chest hair a little.

  “Clear as crystal, princess.” He winced.

  “Good. Now, how long do I have?”

  “Uh. End of first quarter 2016. So, March.”

  I pulled on his chest hairs a little tighter. “It’s October. And I have a wedding to plan.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Vince and Paul.”

  “Oh, well, isn’t that lovely. Congrats to the lovely couple.”

  “Yes, it was. Vince proposed over brunch last Sunday. It was rather sweet.”

  “Mazel tov. Tell them to come in this weekend. Their drinks will be on me.”

  “That’s nice of you, Mike, thank you.”

  “It’s the least I could do. I love love, you know?”

  “I know,” I said. “I’ve seen how much you love love in the back room.”

  He shrugged. “I have a big heart. And a big dick.”

  “Gross.”

  He shrugged again.

  “Right. Now, where were we?”

  “You were threatening me.”

  “Right, okay. You distracted me with the whole Paul and Vince thing.”

  “Sorry. You want to finish the threat?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Seems kind of pointless now. Too much time has passed since I started and it might not carry the same weight.”

  “I’ll still be scared,” he said. “I promise.”

  “Okay. Give me a second. I got to get back into it.” I thought about how Mike was essentially blackmailing me (with my enthusiastic consent, of course, because I had big dreams and expensive tastes and next summer would be the qualifying run for Miss Gay America, so little time), and how Darren had treated me like shit. And, of course, the anger at myself for not being able to get over a slight from the Homo Jock King that happened years ago, because really, what did it matter? Why did I even care that much to let it get to me?

  Maybe it was because for a brief, shining moment, I thought Darren was going to be different.

  And holy shit, was I wrong.

  I was pissed off again. I showed many teeth when I smiled at Mike.

  His eyes widened in fear.

  IT WASN’T until I was back inside the bar that it hit me what I had essentially just agreed to: I was to seduce Darren Mayne to save a gay bar from evil Republicans.

  In retrospect, it sounded like I was the spunky and quirky heroine of a Harlequin romance set in Montana or Wyoming (of which I knew plenty, seeing as how from the age of thirteen to seventeen, I read nothing but, sighing over when women with names like Charity or Serenity landed rough and tumble cowboys named Buck or Mick and found Twu Wuv all the while solving the Big Mystery and saving the day. And also getting plowed like a field in their mound of womanhood. I was nothing if not a voracious reader). Given that this was real life and I was not, in fact, a spunky and quirky heroine in Montana or Wyoming, I figured that this would probably just end in tears or murder, both of which would probably be my own.

  So, there I was, wondering just how I was going to pull this off, not paying attention in the slightest to where I was going when I entered the bar again, only to crash into the one person that I was resolutely going to avoid until I could form a plan of attack.

  “Ow,” I said.

  “Sandy,” he said.

  “Meep.” Somehow, I was standing in a darkened hallway of a gay bar with Darren Mayne’s arms wrapped around me loosely, my nose near his neck, his lips at my ear. I felt every single breath he took. The exhalations were hot against my skin.

  “I was looking for you,” he said quietly, and didn’t that cause a little buzz to roll through me for no fucking reason at all.

  “Oh?” I managed to say. “Lucky me.” I thought about kneeing him in the balls. It seemed like it might have been the best course of action.

  “Yeah. I wanted to talk to you.” He pulled back just a bit, until we were face to face, his hands on my arms, fingers gripping lightly. He had rather pretty eyes, if one cared about such things, but since I didn’t, I ignored them and prepared to kick him in the nuts because he was way too close and smelled really good and—

  “About?” I asked, curbing that line of thought quickly.

  He said, “About the wedding. I have some ideas for Paul and Vince.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him that I was sure his ideas wouldn’t be necessary, given that we weren’t going to order kegs and have a rager like homo jocks were wont to do. And to tell him to get his hands off me, because who did he think he was, manhandling me like he had any right to. I was a queen, for fuck’s sake, and I didn’t want someone of his ilk putting his hands on me.

  But, of course, I was apparently a spunky and quirky heroine in a Harlequin romance set in Montana or Wyoming, because I said, “I just got hired to seduce you in order to save Jack It from going out of business. So I’ll need to suck on your cock a little while you figure out how to get your estranged and completely bigoted father to change his mind. Be a dear, would you, and go along with this? It would make my life easier.”

  Darren choked on his tongue.

  “Well, shit,” I sighed, because that shouldn’t have been a thing that happened.

  Goddammit.

  Chapter 8: Dirty Dr. Seussing: Putting My Spunk in Your Trunk

  I DIDN’T even have the wherewithal to protest when Darren’s grip tightened on my shoulder as he dragged me through the bar and toward the stairs to the Queen’s Lair. Izaac eyed me as we passed by the bar and I shrugged helplessly, almost wanting to screech at him to save me from the dastardly villain who had me in his clutches. He waggled his eyebrows at me, obviously getting the wrong idea.

  But since I figured it wasn’t a good idea to make things worse, I passed through the bar without much protest. Catcalls followed us as Darren threw open the doors to the stairs, pulling me up behind him. I felt myself blush, for fuck’s sake, like I was some virginish maiden being taken to her tower and where she’d be thrust upon in her wet cavern with the throbbing manhood of the knight who had rescued her. I reminded myself later to correct Izaac and the others before any rumors started to spread about Darren and me. Since it was a gay bar, though, chances were texts were already being sent down the gay phone chain and the rumors would be flying even before I stepped back down into the bar. I told myself that it was not the time to be spunky or quirky, and that I had to take this situation by the balls before it came on my face.

  Darren only let me go once we’d reached the Queen’s Lair. It was empty, Charlie not expected to arrive for at least another half hour, Paul and Vince a little later. I was alone with the Homo Jock King, and he looked like he was getting ready to strangle the closest thing he could get his hands on.

  Which would be me.

  “Speak,” he growled, eyes flashing.

  “You’ll never thrust into my wet cavern, you brute,” I said, because I had apparently lost all control on my mouth. “I don’t care if you are a knight.”

  “Are you high?” he asked, looking terribly confused.

  “Not since 2003,” I said. “I tried Ecstasy once. Paul found me rubb
ing my hands against a stucco wall and talking about how I wished I could get naked with it. I never did drugs again.”

  His eyes bulged slightly.

  “Right,” I said with a nod. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to the conversation either. My bad.”

  “Sandy,” he growled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “So,” I said, “funny story. Mike may have told me that the bar is going to close due to a secret government conspiracy against gays or something disguised as a contract dispute. I’ll be honest, I’m a little fuzzy on the details because I didn’t expect to be explaining this to you. The gist of it is, I need to seduce you so you’ll go convince your dad to allow Jack It to remain open, and then I’ll be Miss Gay America and live happily ever after.”

  He put his face in his hands and groaned.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I might not be explaining this as well as I should have. That’s on me. Look, why don’t we just sleep on this and we’ll talk about it next month sometime. Or never. Or you can just help me anyway and we won’t have to talk about it at all. Either way works for me.”

  “Oh no,” he said with a bitter laugh. “That’s not going to happen. You are going to explain everything down to the smallest detail.”

  I frowned at him. “I pretty much just did.”

  “Sandy.” He sounded slightly pained. “I came here to talk about the wedding between my brother and your best friend. In response, you then told me you needed to suck my cock to save a gay bar. Can you see the disconnect here?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course that’s the part you’d focus on, you Neanderthal. Maybe start thinking with your big head instead of your little head.”

  “There’s nothing little—”

  “La la la, don’t care! And wipe that stupid smug grin off your face. It’s gross and no one wants to see that. I will karate chop your face off if you try anything, don’t think I won’t. I was on Groupon and I found a discounted self-defense class that I went to one time, so I know my shit.”

  “Oh yes,” he said. “That Groupon karate class you went to one time. How intimidating.”

  “Are you arguing with me about having your way with me?” I said incredulously.

  “What? No! Jesus Christ.”

  “Just Sandy will be fine,” I said, because I was an asshole.

  He was annoyed, which made me happy. “Explain, Sandy. Now.”

  “Ooh, you’re getting all growly—”

  “Sandy!”

  “Right, right.” I began to pace in front of him, unsure of where to start. “Okay, so your dad is an asshole.”

  Darren snorted and folded his arms over his chest. “Noted.”

  “And there’s Renew Tucson.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly. “The revitalization project that’s been going nowhere for years.”

  “It’s going somewhere,” I assured him.

  “Really.”

  “And there are contracts!”

  “So, essentially, you’re going to give me this in bits and pieces at a time,” Darren said. “Because of course you would.”

  “Like a puzzle,” I agreed. “And shut up. I wasn’t planning on having it go this way. I’m flustered and no, it’s not because of you.”

  “Right,” he said dryly. “You were just going to seduce me to get me to do your bidding. Because that’s how real life works and all. And you lasted what… two, three minutes? Way to see that one through. Your tenacity is astounding.”

  “I’m spunky and quirky,” I groaned, barely resisting the urge to bang my head against the wall. “How is this my life?”

  “Why do I get the impression you ask yourself that often?”

  I glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

  “Because I’m so inclined to help you right this second.”

  “Hey! You should be. This is, like, super important.”

  “Like, really?” he mocked. “Like, super important?”

  I scowled at him. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

  “Pot. Kettle.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I said dismissively. “This will never work.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t even know what this is.”

  Rather than have us dance in this vicious circle any longer (and honestly, I was pressed for time as it was), I gave him the highlights as I remembered them from my conversation with Mike. The more I spoke, the more ridiculous the entire thing sounded and I swore that one day, I’d have my revenge against Mike for even involving me in something so stupid.

  However, that didn’t stop me from milking it probably more than I should have. “And he threatened me,” I sighed.

  “He what?” Darren asked, jaw clenching.

  “Told me I’d never find work as a queen again unless I did this.” I stood near the balcony, hoping it looked like I was gazing into nothingness, contemplating a terrible future where I wasn’t a queen. “And if I did do this, regardless of the outcome, he’d pay my way for the Miss Gay America pageant.”

  “So, naturally, you agreed.”

  “Naturally. I’m a queen, Darren. It’s who I am.”

  “Oh boy,” he said. “That didn’t sound dramatic at all.”

  “Look, are you going to help me, or not?”

  “Help you?” He laughed. “Do you realize how stupid this is? What are you, an eighties movie?”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” I snapped at him. “But I can’t let this place close, Darren. I can’t. This bar helped to make me who I am. Vaguyna loved this place and she would be devastated to find out it was in danger of closing. And I would never be able to live with myself without knowing I did everything I could to keep this open. Now, if you’re not going to help me, then please see yourself out. I have a show tonight and I’m in the wrong headspace for it because your face is pissing me off.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to help,” he pointed out. “In fact, I haven’t really gotten a chance to say much of anything.”

  God, he was the most frustrating man on the planet. “Then by all means, exalted one. Speak.”

  “Did you ever stop to think that maybe if you’d just asked me, I would have said yes?”

  I blinked at him. “What.”

  “I don’t know what kind of an asshole you take me for—”

  “A big one. A big asshole is what I take you for.”

  “—but I know how much this place means to you.”

  “And so you’re saying that if I’d just asked, you would have helped me.”

  He shrugged.

  “Okay,” I said, feeling relieved. “I can do that. Darren, I need your help.”

  “No,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s the way you should have gone,” he said, an annoying smirk on his face. “But you chose to go the path of most resistance like some cartoon villain. So no, I’m not going to do that.”

  “Then what the hell are you still doing here?” I asked, curling my hands into fists to keep from reaching out and punching his uvula. It was a battle I almost lost because my inner black woman wanted to bring the pain.

  He took a step toward me. “You thought it’d be a good idea to fake date me.” He took another step. “That you were somehow going to seduce me, take advantage of me being related to some jackass and the position of my employment.” Another step. “And then, once you got what you wanted you would just, what?” His voice rose and became an approximation of my own, light and airy and with a bit of a lisp, the jackass. “It’s not you, it’s me. I swear.” He took another step and dropped his voice back to its usual dark timbre. “That sound about right, Sandy?” He stopped right in front of me, his chest almost touching mine.

  “More or less,” I said rather stiffly. “But to be fair, it sounded a lot less bad when Mike was saying it. So of course you would make it sound just awful. Because that’s what you do. To everything.”

  “That right?”

  “Yes. A
nd since you’re not going to help me—”

  “Oh, I’m going to help you,” he said, and didn’t that just send chills down my spine.

  “What?” I asked, even though I didn’t really want the answer.

  He arched an eyebrow at me.

  I was confused, and this back and forth was pissing me off. “But you just said—”

  “I’m not going to go about this the way I could have if you’d just come to me,” he said, that smirk showing a hint of teeth.

  “But I did come to you and—”

  “And offered to suck my cock,” he said, and goddammit, he should not be saying something like that so close to me. I glanced briefly at his lips because they were right there and if anything, that smirk widened into something truly and magnificently evil. “Right. I remember. Because how could I forget something like that?”

  “Yes, well, I don’t see what that has to do with anythi—”

  “So, here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, as if I hadn’t been speaking at all. “We’re going to go through with your original plan.”

  And that… did not compute. “What.”

  “We’re going to fake date,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I’m going to fake date the hell out of you.”

  “What.”

  “And you’re going to play along,” he said, voice even and smooth. “No one’s going to know this isn’t real aside from you, me, and Mike, or the deal’s off.”

  “Are you out of your goddamned mind?”

  “Hey,” he said easily. “This was your idea. I’m just going with it.”

  “It was not, it was—”

  “So, we’ll fake date,” Darren said, and I wanted to punch him in the fucking mouth. “We’ll figure out how to save Jack It. And maybe we’ll even have time to help Vince and Paul with their wedding. In fact, until March, it looks like it’s going to be the Darren and Sandy show.”

  “Oh please,” I said. “It’d be the Sandy and Darren show because I obviously would get top billing over you and—why am I even arguing about this?” I reached up and poked him in his considerable chest. The muscles were firm underneath the shirt. I swore I could feel the heat from his skin under my fingertip. Not that it mattered because I had to get control of this situation back. “Why are you doing this? What’s your angle, Mayne? What’s in it for you?”