The Queen & the Homo Jock King

by T. J. Klune

  Even more so than Darren had ever been.

  One might say it started with some text messages.

  Which, in retrospect, was most likely my fault.

  Because people could change, yes.

  But they were still dicks.

  ME: DARREN

  Me: Darren

  Me: DARREN

  Darren: What!!!

  Me: Hi =D

  Darren: Hi

  Me: What are you doing?

  Darren: I’m at work. Like you should be

  Me: Oh. I’m at work too. Bored :/

  Darren: And you thought you would bug me

  Me: Rude. I don’t bug. I bless with my presence. Get it right

  Darren: Right. Sorry. Thank you for blessing me with your presence

  Me: Was that sarcastic? I can’t tell through text

  Darren: No

  Me: Good

  Darren: OR WAS IT

  Me: —-^—-o/——

  Darren: What the hell is that?

  Me: A shark coming to eat you while you’re swimming for being text sarcastic

  Darren: You know, it’s my fault for even asking

  Me: I’m glad you understand that already. It’ll make things easier

  Darren: What things?

  Me: Nm. Anyway. I have news!

  Darren: I am quivering in anticipation

  Me: Gross. That sounds like a serious medical condition

  Darren: I don’t have a serious medical condition!

  Me: But you’re QUIVERING

  Me: That sounds serious

  Me: Are you sweating too?

  Me: Blurry vision?

  Me: Explosive bowel movements?

  Darren: Jesus Christ

  Me: Anyway. We have our second drag bachelor!

  Me: Brian agreed. Said he’d be more than happy to help.

  Me: Didn’t even have to persuade him or bribe him at all

  Me: I think maybe he just really wants to dress in drag

  Me: I don’t judge. Because. You know

  Me: <--drag queen

  Me: So that’s good news!

  Me: Hello

  Me: ?

  Me: Darren

  Darren: Yeah, that’s good

  Me: Right? It’ll be a good time had by all

  Darren: You guys talk a lot?

  Me: Who?

  Darren: You and Brian

  Me: Some

  Darren: You going to bid on him at the auction?

  Me: ????

  Me: Of course not

  Darren: Okay

  Me: I’ll be the MC. I don’t bid on anyone

  Darren: Ah. And what about me?

  Me: What about you?

  Darren: People will bid on me?

  Me: Yeah. That’s kind of the point

  Darren: And no one will have a problem with that?

  Me: Why would they?

  Darren: Because we’re dating

  Darren: FAKE

  Darren: FAKE DATING

  Me: Oh

  Me: Right

  Me: No, no problems

  Me: It’ll be like we told your dad

  Me: Just for the money

  Me: Vince won’t care

  Darren: I was more worried about Paul and Corey

  Me: They are vicious little things, aren’t they?

  Darren: That’s probably an understatement

  Darren: Did I tell you Paul called me?

  Me: What? When?

  Darren: The day after they caught us in the Lair

  Me: He did?!?! What did he say????

  Darren: He threatened me

  Me: HE WHAT

  Darren: Said if I ever hurt you, he’d come after me

  Darren: and murder me. Then use acid to melt the remains

  Darren: and that he would laugh while doing it.

  Darren: He said he wouldn’t feel bad at all

  Darren: And that he probably wouldn’t even get caught

  Me: WHAT

  Darren: I’ll admit. I was almost scared

  Darren: And then Johnny Depp started screaming that Paul was raping him

  Darren: And that someone needed to save him from Paul’s pencil dick

  Darren: I told him I wasn’t scared of him anymore

  Darren: So he hung up on me

  Me: WHAT THE HELL

  Darren: So. That’s your best friend

  Darren: Murderer and bird rapist

  Me: Isn’t he amazing?!?! I love him

  Darren: He’s all right

  Me: HEY

  Darren: Sorry. He’s amazing

  Me: That’s better

  Darren: There’s also something wrong with that bird

  Me: Yeah, Johnny Depp is mentally deficient

  Me: Anyway, I just wanted to tell you I got Brian

  Me: I’ll let you get back to your work

  Darren: It’s okay. I don’t mind

  Darren: I probably shouldn’t have said that

  Me: YOU DON’T MIND????

  Me: I am going to text you ALL THE TIME NOW

  Me: Hey Darren

  Darren: What

  Me: What do you call it when a gay guy texts you?

  Darren: What

  Me: Homotextual

  Me: GET IT

  Darren: Oh dear god

  Me: You laughed. Don’t lie

  Darren: Against my will

  Me: You love me

  Me: IT. You love IT. Stupid autocorrect. Sorry

  Me: Anyway

  Me: You coming to the show tomorrow?

  Darren: Yeah. I’ll be there.

  Unsent Message: I like it when you’re there

  Unsent Message: It makes me happy

  Unsent Message: I don’t know why

  Unsent Message: Why are you always there?

  Unsent Message: What’s rule 10?

  Unsent Message: You’re always there

  Unsent Message: And I think I want you to be

  Messages saved to draft

  Delete unsent messages?

  Messages deleted

  Me: Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye =P

  Darren: Later

  WHICH LED to Caleb.

  THE NEXT night, Wednesday, was packed, the bar almost overflowing. A line had started to form outside the door once we’d filled to capacity. News had started to spread of our drag bachelor auction, with Mike taking to the bar’s social media pages and blasting the hell out of it. A flier had been designed, me as Helena at the center of it and two seminude men were photoshopped on either side of me, muscles prominent and pulled taut as they leaned toward me, the curves of their thighs hiding their junk. I suppose I had to give Mike some credit for the photo he used of me, a long straight platinum blonde wig, smoky eyes, and bright red lipstick, a perfectly manicured fingernail barely pulling against my bottom lip. It was a seductive pose, one of my better ones. It looked good, and not like the usual cheap trashy fliers he had made that I detested. He knew he needed to move fast and had done good work since the weekend. Not that I would ever tell him that, however. I needed to keep his ego in check.

  The trickle effect usually meant the bar would be more crowded, as the buildup toward the bachelor auction began to spread. Events like these were far and few between outside of Pride month, and it helped that the event was taking place between the end of classes and finals and everyone was going to need to take a break from studying that night. We’d be having nothing but drunk, horny college students ready to descend on the bar to see musclemen in drag.

  Paul and Vince were downstairs, nursing a beer or two. They’d told me they were leaving early, probably right after my show. Which was fine, of course. Not everyone can stay out late on a Wednesday night, especially when we had to work in the morning. We weren’t getting any younger, to be sure. I remember thinking in my twenties how nothing would change in my thirties, but it did. I couldn’t stay out all night like I could before and be fresh for work the next morning. No, if I tried that now, I’d loo
k like the Crypt Keeper from Tales from the Crypt crawling into the office come Thursday morning. I tended to mingle for only a little bit these days after I’d finished and would duck out quickly, as it always took me a while to come down from Helena. I needed at least five hours of sleep to be a semifunctioning human being, especially since I had to sit in a cubicle all day and watch my dreams die minute by minute. And the drinking was kept to a minimum, given that I couldn’t recover from hangovers as quickly as I used to. It used to be that I could get shitfaced, then wake up and eat a breakfast burrito from Los Betos and feel fine the rest of the day. Now, if I make the mistake of getting plastered, I tend not to move from the couch the following day, staring at the TV with glazed eyes while watching real housewives doing fake things.

  And Corey had his class, so he was out, not that he was the type to come out during the week anyway. He was focused on his schoolwork, as he should be. He would have time to do stupid things like the rest of us when he became a mature, responsible adult after graduation.

  I hadn’t seen Darren yet, but I’d gotten a text (On my way) almost an hour ago, so I assumed he was downstairs somewhere doing homo jock things like standing against a wall, posing with his arms across his chest and a glower on his face. Or talking about whatever game had been on TV before they’d come to the bar and chuckling heartily about their players kicking touchdowns or other such nonsense.

  I was putting the finishing touches on my costume (Stevie Nicks meets Rihanna—probably not one of my better mashups) when Vince came stomping up the stairs, brow furrowed, a frown on his pretty mug.

  I was Helena-gone, so every word I spoke was husky and at a purr. “Why the long face, baby doll?” I asked as Paul finished tightening the corset. I grunted and glared at Paul over my shoulder, but he just rolled his eyes.

  “Darren’s here,” he said.

  I arched an eyebrow at him in the vanity mirror, waiting for the rest.

  “Downstairs, with some friends of his.”

  “And?” I asked.

  “There’s some guy with them too.”

  “What guy?” Paul muttered, apparently thinking it was okay for the corset to be so tight that my falsies threatened to pop out.

  “I don’t know.” Vince seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then, “I’ve never seen him before. He was all over Darren, though.”

  And that brought things to a screeching halt.

  “Say again?” My jaw twitched.

  “This guy,” Vince said. “His name is Caleb, I think? I don’t know. It just reminded me of how things used to be before you and Darren got together. You know. With how Darren was.”

  “How so?” I asked, voice sticky-sweet.

  Paul stiffened, because he knew that voice.

  That was not a nice Helena Handbasket voice.

  That voice usually meant someone was getting their balls ripped off.

  Apparently Vince knew it well enough by now too, because he paled slightly and said, “No, no. Not like that. Darren’s not like that.”

  I turned slowly. Paul took a step back, but I only had eyes for Vince. “And what is Darren like, exactly?” I asked, cocking my head at him.

  “Um,” Vince said.

  “Vince,” Paul hissed. “Tell her before she murders your face!”

  “He’s just… standing there?” Vince said.

  “Standing there,” I repeated.

  “Oh boy,” Charlie said from behind me.

  He too knew that voice. He was wise not to step in front of me when I was stalking my prey.

  “He’s not doing anything,” Vince rushed out. “Nothing bad. In fact, he’s not really doing anything at all.”

  “Nothing at all,” I said slowly. “So, he’s not reciprocating?”

  “No!”

  “But he’s not pushing him away, either.”

  “Well. Um. The thing is—”

  “Vince.”

  “No.”

  “Is that right,” I said. “How lovely for him. Vince, tell me. Is this boy a twink?”

  “Yes,” Vince said with a manly whimper. “Please don’t take my penis.”

  I smiled at him. It must not have been a very nice smile, because he winced and took a step back. The problem was that he hadn’t come very far into the room, so his back was already against the door. He was cornered and he knew it, the poor little lamb.

  “Say good-bye to your boyfriend,” Charlie said to Paul.

  “Bye, boyfriend,” Paul said morosely.

  Vince looked scandalized, which, for someone as beefy as him, looked appropriately hilarious. Well, it would have if I wasn’t ready to unleash my inner beast all over him. He grimaced as I approached, hips rolling, slinking along like I had all the time in the world.

  I stood in front of him, the heels on my boots causing me to tower over him. His eyes were wide and he swallowed thickly. I reached up and dragged a nail along his cheek, lightly dimpling the skin. He shuddered, but didn’t look away. “And what did he say when you pointed this out?” I asked.

  “Say?” he asked.

  “Yes, baby doll. What did he say?”

  “Uh. Nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Um. Nothing. Because. I didn’t. Say anything? To him.”

  “Is that so.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I came up here instead.”

  “And told me like a good boy.”

  He nodded furiously. “Yes. Exactly. That’s exactly what I did.”

  I gripped his chin in my hand. “And I love you for it.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief, echoing Charlie and Paul behind me. “He wouldn’t do anything, Helena,” Vince said seriously. “Not like that. Not to you.”

  And I could almost believe that. Except Darren and I weren’t together, not for real, anyway. But Paul and Vince didn’t know that and I was sure Charlie was probably berating me silently, wondering how it was I could lie to my best friends so easily. I didn’t know if they could understand that sometimes you had to do impossible things for love.

  My love of this bar.

  Not my love of Darren.

  Because I didn’t love him.

  “Helena?” Vince asked, and I realized I was still standing far too close to my best friend’s boyfriend, his face in my hand.

  “Sorry.” I smiled at him and stepped away. “I was just plotting things.”

  “Uh-oh,” Paul said. “That’s never good.”

  He looked remarkably contrite when I fixed my glare on him.

  “I trust Darren,” I said. “He’s going to have groupies wherever he goes, I’m sure. It’s what happens when you have a chest like his.”

  “Amen,” Charlie said.

  “That’s it?” Paul asked dubiously.

  “Of course,” I said. “What else could there be?”

  “Um, bloodshed, for one. Sandy, you once threatened to light a guy on fire when he spilled his drink on your shoes.”

  “They were Manolo Blahnik pumps,” I retorted. “That sniveling cretin should have burned.”

  “Exactly,” Paul said. “So forgive me if I don’t quite believe you that you’re ending it with I trust Darren because of his moobs.”

  “I don’t sound like that!”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re missing the point.”

  “And what is your point exactly?”

  Charlie stepped in, probably because he saw that we were getting bitchy with each other. And that was never a good thing. “I think what he’s trying to say is that bail is set really high for murder.”

  I grinned at them. “Only if you get caught.” And then I was out the door and down the stairs much faster than a man dressed in a unitard and wearing thigh-high boots over fishnets had any right to. Paul and Vince were scrambling behind me, probably sure I was going to serve smashed twink to the rest of the club, but honestly. I had much more class than that.

  Pureed twink sounded better. It would most likely go down smoother, anyway.

  The cl
ub was loud when I opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. To my right was the entrance, two bouncers—Greg and Mojo—glaring menacingly as they checked the IDs of everyone that came through the door. Mojo winked at me when he heard the door open before returning to his usual scowl that was supposed to intimidate anyone and everyone who tried to enter Jack It. I would have been impressed if I didn’t know that he was a power bottom who liked to knit scarves that Greg always wore, even though they were hideous. They’d been together for just over a decade, having met here out on the dance floor. It was really rather sweet, despite the scarves.

  People clamored for my attention and I smiled at them, not really stopping to chat, eyes darting as I looked for the homo jocks. It was early still, and I wasn’t scheduled to start the show for another half hour. Plenty of time to decide if Darren needed to be taken down a notch or two. Surely he wasn’t stupid enough to try something while I was full-on Helena. No one would be that stupid.

  Izaac saw me coming and poured two shots, sliding them across the bar.

  “The homo jocks?” I asked him in between downing the tequila.

  He nodded toward the back patio.

  “Darren?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Tell me, baby doll,” I said, leaning forward on the bar. “Do you know this twink that’s with them?”

  He shrugged uncomfortably. “Seen him in here a few times.”

  “Caleb was his name?”

  “Think so.”

  “So you don’t know him well, then. At least not well enough to know his greatest fears so I can extort them.”

  Izaac huffed a laugh. “No, ma’am. If I did, you’d be the first to know.”

  “Did they arrive together?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  “This is why you’re my favorite,” I said. “Your nipples look lovely today.”

  He preened. God, did I love straight boys at gay bars. Such wonderful creatures.

  Paul and Vince caught up to me by the time I stepped away from the bar.

  “Maybe keep the bloodshed down to a minimum,” Paul said, panting lightly. Stairs and Paul Auster didn’t really mix.

  “Bloodshed?” I said, sounding as innocent as possible. “Darling, I have a show coming up. I can’t afford to get blood on my costume. Why, that would ruin my entire Stevie Rihannanicks performance, and where would we all be then? The thought alone is chilling.”

  “I don’t know what a Stevie Rihannanicks is,” Vince said.