by T. J. Klune
“It’s not a contest,” Darren said. “I just thought you should know you’d be taking money away from at-risk children by closing the club. Just another angle to think about.”
“Okay,” Taylor said. “But that still doesn’t answer my question on how you plan to do that. It’s not like you can hold your own dinner. So, enlighten me. What kind of fundraiser would you have?”
Since my life wasn’t really an eighties movie, I made the firm and swift resolution not to say the very first idea that popped into my head, because it was absolutely ridiculous. I mean, come one. Did we really need to have a drag bachelor auction where I could be the MC and peddle man flesh while wearing something fabulously erotic? Of course not. We didn’t need that at all.
But how I wanted it. How it tantalized me.
Sandy, it whispered. Say me out loud. Just do it. I know it sounds preposterous, but do it. Come on, you know you want to. Everyone wants you to say it. It’ll feel so good. Say it. Just a little. Just a little bit.
And I did.
I did.
Because I wanted it.
I wanted to wear that costume with the green feathers off the shoulders that was absolutely skintight and left nothing to the imagination. How amazing would I look in that? Why, I bet I could raise at least a million dollars off my look alone. And not to mention how perky my ass looked in it. That was another five hundred thousand right there.
You know. For the children.
I had to think of the children.
So while Darren opened his mouth to probably say something extraordinarily boring like having a bake sale (and there was never anything sexy about having a bake sale, even if the cakes were shaped like penises or balls or something), I made the firm and swift resolution to not let him embarrass himself (and by extension, myself) and said three words I never thought I’d get to say in my life out loud and not immediately be hit with a wave of groans.
“Drag bachelor auction,” I said.
Darren groaned.
Since it was only him that groaned, it did not constitute as a wave and therefore, I was still in the clear.
“Drag bachelor auction,” Taylor repeated dubiously.
“Drag bachelor auction,” I said again, because I couldn’t not say it now. It sounded glorious.
“And what is… that.”
I had to hand it to the mayor. I’d never really heard someone talk while at the same time sounding like they were going to vomit without actually vomiting. It was quite an accomplishment.
But it mattered not. Because drag bachelor auction. “We dress up men who don’t usually do drag and then auction them off as eligible bachelors. Whoever bids the highest wins a date with said drag bachelor. One hundred percent of the profits go to saving the children from Ebola or scurvy whatever it is those charities do. Mad cow disease? Oh. Right. Drug babies. The money will go to save little Cracky Crackerson.”
Darren was starting to look like he wished he could be anywhere than where he was. Which, you know.
Rude.
“You dress up men as women and then pimp them out, is what you’re saying,” Taylor said. Which was also rude, but entirely accurate.
“Of course not,” I said. “There is no pimping.” So much pimping. “It’s not about anything sexual.” There would probably be a lot of sex, if the people on the date were so inclined. “We just want everyone to have a good time and donate what they can.” Give money and you can have sex with a man in a dress was probably not the best slogan to have for a children’s charity fundraiser. I’d have to work on that. “It’s not that big of a deal.” It was a super big deal that I was going to have to do regardless. Mike was not going to be pleased. “Darren here is even participating.”
I really shouldn’t have said that.
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said, sounding aggrieved. “Can you repeat that?”
“Yes, Helena,” Darren said. “I think I’d like to hear that again too.” He also sounded aggrieved, but his was more from a place of violence than his father’s. It was a good thing I’d decided I had feelings for him, otherwise I might actually be scared. But I couldn’t see the fear past the stars in my eyes.
It also probably helped that I didn’t have any sense of self-preservation. “Darren’s going to dress up in drag and then I’m going to sell him.” I couldn’t help the glee that trickled into my voice at such a notion. It was going to be amazing.
The dressing him in drag part.
Not the auctioning him off part.
Because that didn’t sound good at all.
In fact, I rather hated that idea.
Not because of jealousy or anything.
Obviously.
“Yeah,” Darren said with a sigh. “I thought that’s what you said.”
“Why in God’s name would he do that?” Taylor asked incredulously. “Darren has a tad bit more self-respect than that.”
“Apparently I don’t,” Darren muttered.
I bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with drag.”
“Besides everything, you mean,” Taylor said. “It’s not natural.”
Darren moved my silverware away from me. It was disconcerting that he knew me well enough to remove forks from my reach when his father was insulting me. I was feeling very stabby again.
“There’s nothing unnatural about it,” I said. “Drag performers have been around for centuries. When performing Shakespeare’s plays, all the roles, including those of women, were played by men. It’s not a sexual thing, or a gender-identity thing. It’s about performance.”
“Those men weren’t homosexual,” Taylor said.
“Right,” I said. “Because there are never any gay men in theater. What was I thinking?”
“It has nothing to do with self-respect,” Darren told his father. “If it helps raise some money for people who might not otherwise have it, then I have no problem with it.”
“But you’re not a bachelor,” Taylor pointed out. “Nor are you gay. Why would you let yourself be whored out like that?”
“I’m not being whored out,” Darren said with a growl. “It’s a friendly thing with absolutely none of the lasciviousness that you’ve apparently got stuck in your head. I do it because I want to, not because I’m forced to.”
I was surprised he was going along with this. And, of course, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d look like in drag. It would either be amazing or a train wreck. Most likely an amazing train wreck. With sequins and lipstick.
“And you’d let this happen?” Taylor said, looking at me.
I narrowed my eyes. “Darren does what he wants. I don’t own him.”
“He’s your boyfriend.”
“And?”
“He’d be going on a romantic rendezvous with another… man.”
“Yes, well. He knows what side his bread is buttered on. My side. In case you didn’t infer what I meant.”
Darren rolled his eyes. “And it’s not romantic. These dates are just meant to be conversation, a thank-you for the donation. I’m with Helena. I wouldn’t do anything with anyone else.”
Ow. That hit me right in my imaginary uterus. I wanted to have his babies.
That was an odd feeling to have.
Taylor shook his head. “I just don’t understand.”
“Oh. Well, it means his bread is buttered on my—”
“The homosexual thing.”
“Why would you have to get it?” I asked, honestly curious. “I mean, I get that you don’t agree with homosexuality, like it’s some kind of decision. I get that you’re conservative, and that’s your right to be. But something I’ve never understood about the argument against gay rights is how it has any effect on a straight person. Sanctity of marriage? Don’t get gay married. Disgusted by gay sex? Don’t have gay sex. Gay people having children? They’re not your children, so why does it matter? How do gay people with equal rights affect your life in any way, shape, or form?”
“The Bible is pretty clear
on—”
“False,” I said. “The Bible also says women should be treated as an object and that it’s okay to have slaves. So. Unless you agree with that, you don’t get to pick and choose. And what you choose to believe in doesn’t mean you should be able to force that belief on others. Next.”
“Biology dictates—”
“The world is overpopulated as it is. Reproduction isn’t the necessary end goal for unions. What happens when a couple in their seventies want to get married? They can’t reproduce. So how is that couple getting married any different than allowing a gay couple to marry?”
Boom, motherfucker.
“Look,” Taylor said with a sigh. “It’s not as if I don’t see your points. I do. I really do. But the will of the people is what it is. I can’t argue against that.”
“You could,” I pointed out. “You just choose not to to maintain your office. But maybe you could try and show them a different way. People look up to you. You’re in a position of power and blah, blah, blah.”
“Elected position of power,” he reminded me. “Helena, you’re a very sweet girl, but I don’t think you understand how all of this works.”
“Wow,” Darren said. “I don’t think you could have been more condescending if you’d tried. Way to go. And for the record, she’s smarter than both of us combined.”
I tried desperately not to flush at that. I don’t know that I succeeded very well. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or playing his part. Either way, it shouldn’t have set me off like it did.
“That’s never been my intention,” Taylor said, that politician’s smile coming back out. I thought it might have been charming if I didn’t already know it was tempered by evil. “I simply wanted to enjoy lunch on a nice day with family. Is that so much to ask for?”
“Apparently,” Darren said. “I was talking to you about supporting charities and you asked Helena why she whored me out. So forgive me if I’m not enjoying lunch on a nice day with family.”
“Poor choice of words,” Taylor said. “Obviously, I was misconstrued. Or spoke out of turn, at the very least. Any support the charities can get is obviously a good thing. I only wish it could be under a different set of circumstances. I feel like we could be friends.”
Oh, that motherfucker was good. The right amount of pseudo-sincerity, and just a smidgen of oozing charm and—
Wait a minute.
What was it Mike had said?
Everyone knows Taylor is a betting man. He likes to make wagers. Got him into a lot of trouble years ago….
I was about to make this so much more ridiculous. I wondered if I could somehow parlay this entire experience into my own reality TV show on Bravo. I even already had the title picked out: I’ll See You in Helena. Cheeky, that. Also slightly dirty.
“Care to make it interesting?” I asked, sounding purposefully bored.
“And how’s that?” Taylor asked.
I shrugged and tapped my fingernails on the tabletop. “A friendly wager.”
His smile was all teeth. It would have been more intimidating if I was just sitting here as Sandy Stewart. But I wasn’t. And he didn’t know who he was fucking with. He would soon enough. And by then, it’d be too late.
Notice how I had no fucks left to give.
I said, “I bet you we can raise more money than you can from one of your fundraisers.”
I wished for a moment that we had an audience so they could gasp at my audacity. When I got my TV show, I’d probably have to travel with an entourage wherever I went to make sure I had dramatic gaspers at the ready. Life wasn’t worth living unless you had dramatic gaspers.
“Interesting,” he said. “A fool’s bet, then. I know people with very deep pockets. Are you sure you want to go there, sweetheart?”
“Darren,” I asked, voice sugary-sweet. “Can I borrow your fork?”
“Maybe now’s not a good time.” Darren reached up through my hair and squeezed the back of my neck. “You don’t really need it at the moment.”
“I just want to hold it. For a little bit.”
“Maybe later,” he said.
Taylor was confused.
“If we win,” I told him, “you push to have the contract with Jack It renewed. Nonnegotiable. Until 2026.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And just how did you know there was a contract?”
I shrugged and didn’t speak.
He looked between the two of us. “Is that what this was about?”
Darren snorted. “You brought it up. All I wanted to do was introduce my father to my girlfriend.”
“It’s just a noticed opportunity,” I said.
“Have many of those, do you?” Taylor glanced at his son.
I didn’t like what he was implying, even if he was technically correct. I was using Darren, but Taylor didn’t get to know that. Besides, Darren had his own motive that I wasn’t privy to, so I thought we might have been even.
“A few,” I said, letting him fill in whatever blanks he had.
“And if I win?” he asked after a pause.
Mike wasn’t going to be happy with me. “You can close the club. With as little resistance as possible.”
“You act like you can speak for everyone in their entirety.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. One is that I have a very big mouth. Isn’t that right, Darren?”
“Jesus Christ,” Darren muttered as he flushed horribly. It was amazing.
“That means he agrees with me,” I told his father. “I know it doesn’t sound like it, but that’s just how we roll.”
“I think I like you,” Taylor said. “Very… ruthless. But why would I possibly agree to something like that? Surely you realize you can’t win. And even if you had a chance, all I have to do is say no and you have nothing.”
“Except the attention of the national media,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to meet Anderson Cooper so I can ask him if he considers himself a daddy. I’m sure he would be sympathetic to the local gay bar crushed under the unfashionable fascist boot of tyranny.”
“The unfashionable what of what?” Darren asked.
“You can’t really threaten me,” Taylor said. “And you’re treading a very thin line between speculation and extortion.”
“Not really treading as much as I’m straddling,” I said. “I’m better at that. Darren—”
“Don’t even bring me into that one,” Darren said.
“You’re no fun,” I accused him.
“Maybe she can’t threaten you,” Darren said to his father. “But, hey. Do you think people would be interested in hearing that their mayor cheated on his dead spouse with another woman and produced a child out of wedlock almost thirty years ago? Especially since said mayor is so keen on family values that he’s willing to close down a local business.”
If my dick hadn’t been taped between my legs, I would have popped a boner right then, I swear to god. As it was, I grunted quietly, choking back the TAKE ME NOW that I almost screamed out loud. I didn’t think the other patrons would have enjoyed me flipping up my skirt and presenting myself to Darren while demanding he stick it in me before I punched him in the mouth. Well, unless Tim Curry was here. He’d have probably enjoyed it just fine, the kinky fucker. And I would have been fine with him watching.
Taylor tapped his fingers on the table. “Blackmail,” he said finally.
“Eh,” Darren said. “I prefer to think of it as talking business over lunch. Besides, Dad. It’s not like you haven’t done worse than that. And we all know you haven’t met a bet you didn’t like. And if you’re so sure you’d win, what’s the harm in having a little fun? And I’m comfortable in my job security, so I don’t think I have anything to worry about there, do I? I mean, even as something as minute as changes to my current position would be noticed. Plus, there’s the whole potential for wrongful termination. And obviously there couldn’t be any claims of nepotism, given my educational background. I worked hard without any hel
p from you to get where I’m at. And there’s a paper trail to prove it.”
Taylor sighed. “This is what you blackmail me for? A gay bar? I’m a little depressed at the thought. I would have expected you to dream… bigger. I don’t know. Why not just make it simple and ask for money like most other people? I honestly expected that by now given your parentage. Hush money changing hands to keep rumors of my tawdry indiscretions out of the public eye.”
I was mad on Darren’s behalf. Taylor was talking about his mother like she was nothing. “We’ll take your money,” I said. “If you want to place a bid on one of our fine bachelors. You’ve got that whole power kink thing going on. Or even better, maybe you’d like to be in the auction itself. You’d make us some good money, I think. Just wear that suit or one like it. I’m sure you have a closet full of them.”
“I still like you,” Taylor said to me. “I’ll crush you where you stand, but just know that I still like you. It’s quite a position to be in, if I must say.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I don’t know that the feeling is mutual. So. You know. There’s that.”
He grinned at Darren. “You better hold on to this one. She’s a spitfire.”
I rolled my eyes as Darren glanced at me, expression unreadable.
“When is your fundraiser?” Taylor asked. “The one you apparently already had planned before today’s lunch ever occurred.” He wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Which was very stupid.
“The second Saturday in December,” I said promptly.
He nodded as he pulled out his iPhone. “Then I suppose we can set ours for the following weekend,” he said after a moment. “The weekend after that is Christmas, so I expect people to be in a festive and giving mood.” He typed something into the calendar on his phone (I imagined it was something like DESTROY THE HOMOSEXUALS DINNER AND CASH GRAB!!!) and then stuck his phone back into his inner jacket pocket. “What more can I say?” He folded his hands in front of him on the table. “May the best man win.”
I got the dig.
Of course, little did he know that I had the balls to go up against him.
Literally.
And figuratively, but literally also.
“And who had the sea bass?” the waitress asked with a simpering smile, unaware of the Mexican soap opera that had unfolded right in front of her nose.
