by T. J. Klune
Too bad none of it was real.
Chapter 15: Super Gays and Running Away to Bismarck, North Dakota
WHEN ENACTING a plot from an eighties movie, there always comes the point where Someone Finds Out That Everything is a Lie. It’s usually done to move the plot forward while creating hysterical drama for all involved and causing the hero(ine) of the story to flail in an attempt to Keep Things Secret Because of Reasons.
Since my life was cinematically idiotic, the ridiculous thing Darren and I were doing couldn’t be kept secret forever. We lasted quite a bit longer than I thought we would, and while that made me question the intelligence of the people around us (while simultaneously patting myself on the back for Meryl Streeping the shit out of them), I was slightly disappointed that it was me that accidentally spilled the truth.
To Charlie, of all people.
Sweet, loveable, elderly Charlie.
And not really spilled, per se, but more like he caught me in a compromising position where I was forced to reveal the truth and then threaten (read: beg) for him not to expose me for the faking faker that I was.
I WALKED into the club early that night, needing to talk to Mike and let him in on our bachelor drag auction plan in such a way that he agreed with me completely and did not try and murder my face. Mike was not a charitable person on a good day, and any time we’d held some kind of fund drive in the past, he’d always taken a larger percentage of the profits than was actually donated in order to cover what he called his operating expenses. In all actuality, Mike was a cheap bastard who did little without finding out how it benefitted him. In this case, I hoped the overhanging threat of the bar closing could make him see it my way. If not, then there was no hope for him and I was going to be so done with his shit.
Luckily for him, I dispensed with any pleasantries as soon as I walked into his trailer and let it all spill out in a stream of pleadings and extortions.
“…and now we have to do a drag bachelor auction otherwise the mayor will win the bet and the bar will close and isn’t that just awesome because no one can put on a drag bachelor auction like Helena Handbasket, no one,” I finished, panting slightly.
Mike’s face was in his hands. That was probably not a good sign.
“So,” I said awkwardly, trying to defuse the situation. “How are you?”
“You met with the mayor face to face,” he said, voice muffled against his fingers.
“Yes.”
“As Darren’s girlfriend.”
“As Darren’s lovely girlfriend, I think you meant to say.”
“You said your name was Helena Van Der Beek.”
“Of the Dawson’s Creek Van Der Beeks,” I said. “James would be so lucky.”
“And he fell for it.”
“He did. I was very convincing. If there was an award for best he-she performance in front of a government official, I would have won it hands down.”
“And now I have to allow you to put on a drag bachelor show with one hundred percent of the proceeds benefitting charities I couldn’t give two shits about.”
“For the children, yes.” I was pleased he’d gotten all of that out of my hysterical rambling. “You speak Sandy. How wonderful for you. The joy you feel must be greater than anything you’ve ever felt before.”
He dropped his hands on his desk and glared at me. “I asked you for one simple thing.”
“Simple? In what world is me seducing the son of the homophobic mayor to save a gay club simple?”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, when you say it like that, no. But now you’ve just made things more convoluted.”
“I really don’t think you appreciate the enormity of what you asked me to do in the first place,” I said. “Maybe you should reexamine this entire situation.”
“Oh, I would,” he said, jiggling the computer mouse so the monitor flashed back on. “Except I don’t have time for that now, seeing as how I have to check the scheduling to make sure we have enough time to do whatever it is you said we have to do.”
“Drag bachelor auction,” I said. “Why is everyone acting like this isn’t a thing? Everyone knows this is a thing. And this doesn’t make things more convoluted. If anything, it makes it crystal clear in the sheer amount of enjoyment this will bring us all.”
“You mean the joy it will bring you,” Mike said, clicking angrily at his computer.
“Well, yes,” I said. “This will bring me happiness like I’ve never known. Especially since Darren has agreed to participate.”
“Agreed? I think you mean conscripted.”
“Same thing,” I said with a wave of my hand. “He would do it because I am the light of his life and he has no other choice.”
“Really?” Mike looked away from the computer. I didn’t like the gleam I saw in his eyes. “Light of his life, you say. Tell me, princess. Just how is that going for you? It sounds as if you’re playing your part well if Darren doesn’t suspect anything. And he must be smitten if he agreed to dress in drag for you. Poor boy doesn’t have the shoulders to pull a strapless dress off. Too meaty, if you ask me, though I suppose there’s a market for that.”
“Yes,” I said. “About that. There was a… slight change in plans.”
“Really,” Mike said. “A slight change. Enlighten me.”
“Well,” I said, resolutely not showing fear because Mike would be able to smell it on me and I’d never been afraid of him in my life. Mostly. “So. Funny story. I was going to go through with your plan just as you said, but there was a… oh blast. What’s the word? Hmm. Hitch. Yes. There was a hitch.”
“A hitch,” he said, voice low.
“A small one.”
“And what was this small… hitch.”
“I might have accidentally told Darren about everything. Immediately.”
Mike sighed.
“But,” I said, “he was totally okay with it!”
“Really.” Mike sounded extraordinarily amused for reasons I didn’t quite understand. “Imagine that.”
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“Of course you don’t,” Mike said. “It doesn’t matter. So you told Darren you were seducing him to get to his father—”
“Seducing? There’s been no seducing—”
“—and what should have been a relatively simple plan has turned into a drag bachelor auction. Which Darren has agreed to.”
“Yeah, see? I still don’t think you understand what simple means. Because nothing about this was simple.”
“It was simpler than it is now,” he pointed out.
“Okay,” I said. “But just think about it. Where something was once devious and underhanded is now devious and underhanded with a drag bachelor auction. I really feel like everyone is missing that point. I can repeat, if need be. Drag—”
“I got it,” Mike said. “And where are you going to get these bachelors?”
“Um,” I said.
“Sandy.”
“I can find them! People owe me favors.”
“You are going to call in favors to get single men to dress up in drag and have people buy them.”
“Yes. Though, I don’t know that they need to be single, per se—”
“My doctor told me that I needed to watch my stress levels.”
“As well you should,” I said. “A man your age. Your valves are probably sticky with twink semen and fried foods. And since you haven’t yet sold your black soul to the devil, it’s good advice.”
“You are my stress level.”
“I am going to choose to take that as an endearment,” I decided. “It will help me sleep better tonight. And I’ll forget it by tomorrow, so it’s a win for both of us.”
“I’ll remind myself of winning when I’m taking the hypertension medication,” Mike said dryly. “Princess, if you don’t have bachelors to auction off, then you don’t have an auction. It’s kind of how that works.”
It really shouldn’t have been so easy to think of who I could get. “The
homo jocks,” I said, taking my phone out again. “They’re muscular and dumb enough to do this, right? Piece of cake.”
“Maybe not describe them like that when you ask them,” Mike said. “Even if it’s true. It might make them sad. And we don’t want sad homo jocks in drag. You won’t raise any money at all.”
“Won’t have to,” I said as I dialed Darren. “I’ll get their king to do it. He owes me. I think. Or I owe him. I don’t know. I’m still kind of confused by what’s going on.”
Mike looked rather pleased at that.
“What have you done now?” Darren asked as soon as he answered the phone. “It’s literally been three hours since I dropped you off. Please tell me you haven’t done something illegal already. I don’t know that I’d bail you out.”
“Aww,” I said, feeling irrationally fond. “Miss me, bae? And you lie. You’d come running for me. Maybe even screaming my name and demanding I be set free. Probably in the pouring rain and would fall to your knees outside the prison walls and raise your fists to the thunderous sky—”
He sighed. “Sandy.”
I noticed how he didn’t deny it. It made my balls tingle, oddly enough. “So, look. I need a favor.”
He snorted. “Another one?”
“Just add it to my tab.”
“It’s a pretty big tab.”
“That’s what he said. Also, you know I’m good for it.”
“Uh-huh. And just what am I going to get when I collect this tab of yours? Because you know when it comes due, I’m going to want payment.”
My mouth went instantly dry because I immediately made that dirty. Like, a dirty payment. “Uhh,” I said, brain misfiring.
“Sandy?”
“Uhhh,” I said like a champ.
“Did I break you?”
“No,” I said, coming back online. “I got distracted by something.”
“Really,” he said and I knew he was smirking. “And what were you distracted by?”
I latched on to the first thing I saw. “Uh, Mike. You know. Mike? My boss? Yeah, he’s getting his testicles and taint waxed.” I mouthed an apology at Mike, who was glaring at me quite severely. “So, that’s what I was distracted by. Testicular and taint waxing.”
“Testicular and taint waxing.”
“Why does everyone repeat what I say in that same tone of voice?” I wondered aloud.
“Seems as if there’s a common denominator.”
“I don’t have time for math! Are you going to help me or not?”
“What? It’s not—fine. Sandy. What is it that I can do for you?”
“Much better,” I said, because I learned that positive reinforcement is needed when placating an irate homo jock. “Though maybe work on your tone a bit. But since you’re being sort of helpful, when we’re done talking, you should go do some bench presses or squats or whatever it is you do when you feel you deserve a reward. Do a pull-up or drink a protein shake. You’ve earned it.”
“I don’t always work out,” he said with a sigh.
“Yeah, okay. Tell that to your thighs.”
“My thighs?” he asked innocently. “What is it exactly you want to tell my thighs, Sandy?”
I could not get an erection in front of an aging man with a copious amount of chest hair who was also my slimy boss who’d coerced me into this position to begin with. I just couldn’t. It was against the Jack It employer-employee handbook that I’m sure Mike had thought of making at least once or twice in the past. “Uhh,” I said eloquently. Because Darren’s thighs were nice, as far as thighs went, large and beefy and probably really fantastic to touch, if one was so inclined. And apparently I was one who felt inclined because I had this really gnarly image of said thighs wrapped around my neck.
“You know,” Darren said, as if he wasn’t fully aware I had no blood left in my brain. “You’re right. I seem to do a lot of squats, don’t I? My thighs are pretty hard. I think they deserve a break today. You do squats, Sandy? There’s that burn you get right when you’ve squatted as low as you can get, and if you hold it just right, then rise up slow, it spreads all over. I like it when it burns all over, Sandy. Don’t you?”
“Uhh.”
“Man, Mike’s balls must be hairy. You’re so distracted again.”
“I do yoga!” I blurted out because I really didn’t want to be talking about Mike’s hairy balls.
“Yoga?” he said. “Really.”
“Yes. Like. Bending. And stuff.”
“Bending,” he said. “And stuff. Wow. I squat. You bend. No wonder we’re fake dating. It’s like a match made in fake heaven.”
“This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had,” I said to no one in particular.
“I bet you get that a lot,” Darren said.
“Focus! We were discussing important things!”
“You’re the one that called me to talk about my thighs, Sandy.”
“That’s… I didn’t… you’re impossible.”
“I’ve been called worse things by scarier people,” he said. “It’s probably not helping your cause that you sound like you’ve been running a marathon. Why are you breathing so hard?”
“I’m not breathing hard!”
“It’s like you’re panting right in my ear. I might have to start charging you for this phone call if you’re trying to make it go that direction.”
“Stop trying to distract me,” I hissed at him, trying desperately to ignore the idea of phone sex with Darren Mayne, what the fuck. “Or I swear to god, I’m going to make you up like a dime-store floozy come drag bachelor auction night.”
“You don’t have to keep saying drag bachelor auction,” he retorted. “It’s not that great of an idea. And a floozy? I didn’t know you were an eighty-year-old grandmother of seven.”
“Fuck you sideways, it’s the best idea.”
“Best being the operative word.”
“Darren!”
“Sandy!”
“I’m not a grandma!”
“Sort of.”
“You infuriate me.”
“The feeling is more than mutual.”
“Good!”
“Fine!”
“I don’t even remember why I called you!”
“Why are you yelling at me, then?”
“Because you deserve to be yelled at. You’ve done something, oh my god. No. You know what? Just. No. I will not allow you to get me riled up so close to a show. I need to be the best that I can be. I’ve had a very trying day today and I will be calm and cool and collected and you will do nothing to make it worse.”
“My day was trying because you’re trying.”
“Yeah, trying to get you to shut the fuck up and listen to me!”
“Oh, real mature.”
“Do you really think you need to do this flirting right in front of me?” Mike said, quite loudly. Which, to be honest, startled the shit out of me because I’d forgotten he was even there.
“Flirting?” I sputtered, sufficiently outraged. “This isn’t flirting. This is me on my way to a goddamn murderous rage where Darren will be my first and only victim and he will suffer.”
“You probably weigh a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet,” Darren said. “I highly doubt you can murder anything. Well, except for that steak you ate today. Jesus, that went down fast.”
“Try me,” I growled, Helena pushing through.
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
“We will,” I snarled into the phone. “By the time I’m done with you, you won’t—”
“I really wish this wasn’t happening right in front of me.” Mike grimaced. “Or in my trailer. Or within hearing distance. It’s really rather disgusting how shameless the two of you are. The UST is really just rather revolting.”
“Two things,” I snapped at him. “You should never say UST again. You are middle-aged and you need to learn to act like it. And secondly, are you fucking serious? UST. Mike. Shut the fuck up before I decide to up my kill c
ount.”
“Jesus,” Mike said. “Your denial is almost endearing.”
I sputtered for a little bit longer after that one.
“This has been fun,” Darren said, sounding rather pleased with himself, the bastard. “But you called me for a reason. Yet another favor, was it?”
In my head, I swore to him that his death would not come easy. Outwardly, I said, “Yes. You are the king of the homo jocks. It’s time to extend your authority over your people. I will need at least nine of them to participate in the drag bachelor auction. Since the homo jocks have a propensity to have sex with most things that catch their eye, I assume you know plenty of single homo jocks. If anything, you can invite your Ultimate Frisbee team to participate.”
“I haven’t played Ultimate Frisbee in a long time,” he said. I could tell he was annoyed and that made me happy.
And he was a liar and fat mouth, so I waited.
Finally, “The league hasn’t even started this year yet,” he grumbled.
“How fascinating,” I said. “I’m sure the games are filled with testosterone and homoeroticism and a lot of inappropriate touching and now that I say that out loud, I should probably go to them because it sounds like porn. Do you grope each other’s asses when you score a basket or field goal or whatever ridiculous point system you use?”
Both Mike and Darren sighed. It’s always a good sign for a conversation when you hear exasperation in surround sound.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I might film it and put it on the Internet, FYI.”
“Uh-huh. And why nine?”
“Because you’ll be the tenth. I think ten is a nice round number to have for drag bachelor auctions. And Mike will reach out to the Super Gays who I know will just love to donate funds.”
“The who?”
“The Super Gays. You know, the wealthy middle-aged gays who fling money at everything but also like looking at man flesh. They’re quite a large group, in case you haven’t noticed. Not that you probably had, now that I think about it. They’re probably a bit out of your age range. And out of high school.”
“Har, har.”
