The Queen & the Homo Jock King

by T. J. Klune

  Me: I’M BEING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

  Me: PAUL I’M GOING TO KILL YOU

  Me: I’M GOING TO SCRATCH YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT

  Me: WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU

  Me: THERE WILL BE NO END TO YOUR SUFFERING

  Me: BTW, that joke was funny, Matty. Good job

  Me: And I used to masturbate into socks too

  Me: But I did my own laundry

  Me: So….

  Me: Where was I?

  Me: YOU’RE DEAD TO ME PAUL

  Me: DO YOU HEAR ME

  Me: DEAD!!!!

  Nana: Back. What did I miss? WTF JFC LOL JK

  AT SIX on the dot, the doorbell rang.

  I groaned but reminded myself that the sooner we did this, the sooner it would be over. It was this thought that I held in my heart as I opened the door and—

  Darren was there, of course.

  Fucking Darren Mayne.

  With these tight fucking pants that looked like his muscular thighs just wanted to burst through and a gray sweater that I swore showed the fact that his nipples were hard for some reason that I most certainly did not want to know about. He hadn’t shaved and had a thin layer of scruff on his face that I resolutely did not want to sit on because such an idea was absolutely not on my agenda for this date. He looked pleased with himself, like he knew something I didn’t, and I didn’t even stop to think what it meant when his eyes trailed me up and down.

  He said, “You look good.”

  I said, “I know. I do have a mirror.”

  The eye crinkles were back because he was amused by me, like he found me entertaining. Obviously he was up to something so I needed to be on my guard. For whatever unspecified reason Darren had agreed to this whole fiasco, he did have a reason and it was most likely nefarious. But he was obviously full of shit too, so I decided to play along. We had to sell this, after all.

  “You look… presentable,” I decided on.

  He snorted. “Please. Stop. You’re being far too kind. My heart can’t take it.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “You gonna let me in?”

  I frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I asked?”

  “Then no.”

  “Sandy.”

  “Darren.”

  He pushed past me. Like a jerk.

  I did not squawk at him. I really didn’t. No matter what he would say later.

  “You act like I’ve never been in your house before.” He looked around, probably trying to find something to judge. Ha, his loss. My interior decorating skills were fantastic. Everything in this house was elegant and classy. Well, except for the walk-in closet where I kept all of Helena’s outfits. That looked like a gay pride parade had exploded in there.

  “I hope that came out as creepy as you intended,” I told him as I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. “If so, mission accomplished. And you’ve been here four times.”

  The first time had been a bit of a fluke, or at least I thought so, shortly after Paul and Vince started dating. All I know is that I was coming out of the shower, a towel firmly wrapped around my waist, when Paul had called me to the kitchen. So there I went, soaking wet and wrapped in a pink towel, only to find Paul and Vince standing with Darren for no goddamned reason. Darren had his judging face on and I had my bitch face ready and then I realized I was essentially nude in front of Darren and I had screeched at everyone to get out of my house.

  I never really found out why they were there that day. I didn’t talk to Paul for three days after.

  The second time had been after Corey, Tyson, and Dominic had arrived in Tucson and Paul had invited him over for brunch as retaliation for getting Nana’s parrot Johnny Depp to accuse Paul of being a rapist when the bird needed to go to the vet. Obviously, Paul went extremely overboard in his revenge against me. I didn’t speak to Paul for a full day after that.

  And the third time, of course, had been the Awkward One-Night Stand Brunch Fiasco that we would never speak of again.

  Well, almost never.

  “How’s Octavius?” I asked, hoping I looked earnest. “I bet he’s just heartbroken you’re in a fake relationship.”

  “You know how many times I’ve been here?” he asked. “Keeping tabs on me, I see.”

  “Yes, well. Keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer.”

  “Really?” He took a step toward me, that shark’s grin on his face. “And just how close do I need to be?”

  “Not that close,” I said when I realized I had nowhere to go. “Definitely not that close.”

  “You sure?” His knees bumped mine.

  I didn’t quite understand why it was getting harder to breathe. I mean, objectively, sure, he was attractive. But that shouldn’t have mattered, even if he was only a few inches away.

  “You don’t sound sure,” he said, voice low.

  I pushed him away and managed to step around him without falling on my face.

  He looked annoyed when he turned around.

  That made me feel better. His pain was my joy.

  “So, Octavius?” I asked, making sure to maintain a careful distance between us.

  “Haven’t talked to him since I dropped him off. I made sure he knew it wasn’t anything.”

  “How sweet of you,” I said. “He must have been devastated.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because it was obviously true love.”

  He snorted. “Not hardly.”

  “Well, from where I was sitting, it sure looked—”

  “And how’s Brian?” Darren asked. “You two seemed… cozy.”

  “We were,” I said, suddenly irritated. “He’s very… cozy. And athletic.”

  “Athletic.”

  “Indeed.” From what I could remember. Which wasn’t much. Or really anything at all. Apparently, I was a sloppy drunk. “I made sure he knew it wasn’t anything.” Actually, he’d tried to hit on Corey and then Corey and I had kicked him out after he’d asked if there was any more bacon. But Darren didn’t need to know that. “Keeps texting me, though. Sweet man that he is.”

  “Well, too bad you’re taken, then.” Darren reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I’ll just text him to send him a reminder.”

  “No!” I coughed to clear my throat. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Oh, but I insist. It’s the least I could do.”

  “No need. Already told him.”

  “Did you?”

  “Sure. Oh look, it’s time to go. We don’t want to be late.”

  “Right. Wouldn’t want to be late. To our double date with Vince, Paul, and Corey.”

  Because that didn’t sound like a disaster at all. “You’re going to have to really sell this,” I told him. “Paul and Corey can see right through bullshit. Especially yours.”

  “Then how are you all even friends?” Darren asked. “Because bullshit is pretty much all you do.”

  “Okay, also, leave the humor to me.” I picked up my wallet and keys from the small table near the door. “You’re not as funny as you seem to think you are. It’ll make things less awkward for all of us. In fact, try not to talk at all, really. The less opinions you have on things, the better.” I turned toward the door, not even caring if he was following me.

  “I think I’d like to hold hands,” Darren said, apropos of nothing. “For most of the night.”

  I almost tripped over my feet. Luckily, I’d had years of practice wearing high heels and was able to make it look like I was performing a dance move. Which, for all he knew, I was. “Just practicing,” I said at his raised eyebrow. “You never know when I’ll need to dance.”

  “Right,” he said. “Those spontaneous dances are the worst. So, hand-holding.”

  “You want to hold hands.”

  “Yes. I think that sounds like a good way to sell it. Don’t you?”

  “Or,” I said, “we can tell them we’re not really into PDA and that we don’t touch each other o
utside of the bedroom. Or even there, really.”

  “Or the bar,” he said.

  “Or the bar,” I said begrudgingly.

  “You know?” he said. “I don’t think that I’m the type of boyfriend to not be into PDA. In fact, I think that if I did have a boyfriend—which, for all intents and purposes I do—I’d want to hold hands and probably even kiss them in public. Multiple times, even.”

  “Kissing?” I said, and my voice did not squeak, no matter what he said. It did not. “Why are we at kissing! We were just talking about holding hands! Slow your roll, Casanova.”

  “Right,” Darren said. “But I think I’m going to need both to sell it. You know. Since they can see right through bullshit and all.”

  “Did I say Paul and Corey were suspicious? I totally meant that they believed everything I said. Oops! Got my words mixed up again. Good talk. Glad we cleared that up. Okay! Let’s go and never discuss this again.”

  I pulled on the doorknob, but a hand shot over my shoulder, pressing against the door. The hairs on his arm tickled my ear. I swallowed thickly and turned around. Darren brought up his other hand and bracketed my face between them.

  “Nah,” he said, that infuriating smirk returning. “Pretty sure I like PDA. Maybe we should just practice. Just to make sure we do it right. I’d sure hate for our first kiss to be uncoordinated in front of witnesses. Especially ones who get suspicious.” He chuckled. “Oh. Wait. I mean the ones who believe everything you say.”

  “What? No. No practicing. Why the hell would we need to do that? I don’t need to do that. In fact, I am perfectly fine not doing that. The practicing kissing part.” I wished quite severely that my voice wasn’t so high-pitched at that moment.

  “I don’t know,” he said gravely. “I think it might be a good idea. Make sure we’re… coordinated and whatnot.”

  “Coordinated? Why, of all the stupid—”

  His eyes flickered down to my mouth and just what. That should not even be a thing that was happening to me.

  My hands were sweaty and I cursed that low swooping sensation in the pit of my stomach. My heart was thundering in my chest and I wanted to tell him to take a step back, but my mouth was dry and the synapses were firing all at once, which would probably lead to a full system shutdown. So I said, “Urgh,” rather articulately. It was not one of my finest moments.

  “Urgh,” Darren agreed, and I could feel his breath on my face. And then he was closer and all I could think of was that he was going to kiss me, that I was about to have my first kiss with Darren fucking Mayne and there was no way I was prepared for this, no way that I would have thought I’d let it get this far. I almost didn’t believe he would do it, like we were playing some fucked-up version of Fake Boyfriend Gay Chicken. He was inches away, only inches, and my eyes fluttered shut of their own accord and I knew his lips would scrape against mine and—

  “You’re right,” he said.

  I opened my eyes lazily. “Huh?” was the only thing I could say.

  “We don’t need to practice,” he said, sounding far too cheerful. “We’re adults. We’ve kissed before. Sorry about that. Don’t know what I was thinking. We’ll just go for it if the situation requires.”

  I squinted at him, not really sure what was going on. My head felt fuzzy and I was pretty sure I was about to have at least one-fourth of an erection that I could not control.

  “Besides…” He took a step back, eyes glittering. “I wouldn’t want to be late for our date. Why, that would just be rude.”

  Then he grabbed me by the shoulders, lifted me up, moved me out of the way (like I weighed nothing to him and that was not attractive, no matter how much my skin tingled), and walked out the front door.

  “Huh?” I said to the empty room.

  Chapter 10: Return of the He-Bitch

  PAUL HAD decided that we were to meet at Poco’s, a small café downtown near Jack It where he and Vince had their first date the year before. Even though the date had been something of a disaster (“Why the fuck is that goddamned hippo video still on YouTube, Sandy! I am going to fucking murder your fucking face!”), the sentimentalist in him just couldn’t resist.

  Which is why I found myself going on a double date with Corey as a fifth wheel. I would have thought Corey might have felt more awkward about that, but from the grin on his face as we approached the outdoor patio, he was already having the time of his life.

  I didn’t think that boded well for the rest of the night.

  It started with Darren grabbing my hand as we walked down the sidewalk, interlacing our fingers. I didn’t know proper first-date etiquette as it’d been a while since I’d actually dated. Usually, I was perfectly fine with a fuck and run and didn’t feel the need to do anything further. I hadn’t even had a “boyfriend” since I was twenty-five, and even that had lasted only two months. Paul thought I was aromantic, but it basically boiled down to the fact that it was easier to not than it was easier to do.

  That and the fact that I really didn’t like most people.

  That was a big part of it.

  So here I was, on a date (fake, but whatever), unsure of the proper course of action. He was holding my hand. What was the appropriate response? Could I shove him through the window of a storefront? Could I accidentally knock him into oncoming traffic? Or maybe I could wait until we sat down for dinner, order a steak (medium rare), make small talk until the food arrived, comment on how delicious it looked, then beat him upside the head with it, knocking him unconscious, and then stab him with the steak knife. I thought maybe that was a little extreme, but I didn’t know how the modern gay fake dated in 2015 with his archnemesis. I vowed to be better researched if I had to go through this again, though I highly doubted I would. This was Darren posturing a bit. I would allow it. For now.

  Paul smiled as we approached, Vince looked excited, and Corey just grinned like he was about to receive the most wonderful of presents. I glanced over at Darren and was slightly startled to see the small smile on his face, one that I could have sworn was almost entirely genuine, like he was relaxed and happy. It carried none of the ego or disinterest his usual smiles did. It struck me dumb for a moment until I realized what he was doing: he was trying to beat me at my own game. He was trying to be the better fake boyfriend. He just oozed sincerity, and even though I could see right through, I could admit he was the Daniel Day-Lewis of fake dating. Even I wanted to give him an Oscar for that shit.

  Which meant one thing and one thing only.

  I had to be better than him.

  That meant I had to pull out all the stops.

  Because there was only one thing better than being the Daniel Day-Lewis of fake dating.

  I had to be the Meryl Streep of fake dating.

  (Which also meant I couldn’t beat him with my meat and then stab him.)

  (I really shouldn’t have phrased it like that.)

  (My bad.)

  So I reached down within myself, found my inner Meryl Streep as we approached the patio of Paco’s, and smiled winningly and hoped it made me look more Mamma Mia! Meryl (warm and inviting) than Devil Wears Prada Meryl (kill you, bitch, right in your face).

  (Secretly, I also hoped I could pull off Death Becomes Her Meryl, which is the greatest drag queen movie in history that never actually starred any drag queens.)

  “Hello!” I trilled, walking through the gate, dragging Darren behind me. “Oh, it is so lovely to see all of you. Kisses, please.”

  And I kissed Vince on the cheek and then Paul and finally Corey, never letting Darren go. He went along gamely, but now that I knew he was trying to out-act a drag queen, I was going to make him wish he’d never been born. He thought he could look happy and pull it off? Well I was going to look ecstatic, like I was motherfucking sunshine. I was going to be the happiest person in love who had ever existed.

  “How wonderful,” I gushed, smiling at each of them in turn, so they could see how happy I was. “It’s a perfect fall evening, and we’re here wi
th friends and family.” I looked over at Darren and hoped it was coming off as two parts sweet and one part saucy with a dash of bring it, you bitch. “And of course, my bae.” I saw the slight grimace at the endearment and latched on to it immediately. “Isn’t that right, bae?”

  “Sure,” he said, sounding as if he was so happy to be here. “That’s exactly right, boo.”

  Internally, I was dying.

  “Boo,” Paul repeated, sounding horrified.

  “Bae,” Corey repeated, sounding choked.

  “Heh,” Vince said, “that sounded like you both said booby. Awesome.”

  We all stared at him.

  “What?” he asked, pouting. “It did.”

  “Anyway,” I said. “I’m so glad you picked this place to be the first date. And that you all decided to come with us on said first date. Because that’s what normal people do. And everyone knows that this is perfectly normal. Darren and I are just like everyone else.” I was so Meryl, even Meryl herself would have been proud.

  Darren squeezed hard, and I swore my bones ground together. “What Sandy is trying to say,” he said, glancing at me with a look filled with so much adoration that I almost elbowed his spleen, “is that we’re so glad we can finally be together. I can’t believe how long it took Sandy to get his head out of his ass, am I right?” Everyone laughed heartily at the table.

  Everyone, that is, except for me.

  I started to plan my revenge.

  And I knew it would be sweet.

  So sweet, in fact, that I could almost taste it.

  And it tasted like victory.

  Ever the gentleman, Darren dropped my hand and pulled out my chair. I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping the others couldn’t see. His smile took on a slightly mean curve. I turned and sat in the chair, allowing him to push the chair in. His hand trailed along my shoulders, fingers brushing the back of my head. I leaned into it, as a good boyfriend should. I sighed and smiled up at him as he moved to sit beside me. He pulled his chair as close as it could possibly get to me without actually being on top of me, then sat down, taking my hand in his. He leaned over behind me, my head blocking his. From the outside, it must have looked like he was kissing my ear. Instead, however, he whispered, “I know what you’re doing. You aren’t going to win.” His lips brushed against the shell of my ear, and I struggled to keep from shuddering.