The Queen & the Homo Jock King

by T. J. Klune

  Me: ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME!!!!!

  Darren: You’ll be fine. Good night ;-)

  Me: WINKIE FACE?????

  Me: YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE THIS BETTER WITH WINKIE FACE????

  Me: DARREN!!!!!!!!

  Me: I’M CALLING YOU. YOU BETTER ANSWER

  Me: WHY IS YOUR FUCKING PHONE TURNED OFF

  Me: DARREN

  Me: DARREN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Me: YOU MOTHERFUCKER

  “REMEMBER LAST night when I held you in my arms and told you everything was going to be all right?” I asked Corey as he continued to laugh at me. “I take it all back. Stop fucking laughing!”

  “This is amazing,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You’re nervous.”

  “Bullshit! I don’t get nervous!”

  Which, sure. That was a lie. Because here I stood, in my closet, getting slightly shrieky as I riffled through everything I owned, trying to find something to wear that said to Darren’s mother that I was respectable, that I had never thought of her son naked, and that Darren and I were completely and one hundred percent in love with each other, so much so that we had stars in our eyes and rainbows falling out of our asses. I couldn’t do that in paisley and why the fucking hell did I own so much paisley?

  “Maybe you should just—”

  “If the next words out of your mouth are anything but how to fix this, I swear to god I’ll punch you in the dick.”

  Corey rolled his eyes and pushed his way into the closet. “Black dress slacks.” He pointed at a pair on a hanger. “Light blue dress shirt. Dark blue tie.”

  I gaped at him. “You perform miracles.”

  “I’ve been known to,” he said. “Now, hurry up. They’ll be here soon. I’m going to head out and pick up Charlie before heading over. Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No,” I said with a sniff. “I’m fine. I’m perfectly capable of acting like a functional adult.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” He patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you over there, yeah?”

  “Tell everyone they need to be on their best behavior,” I called after him as he left the room. “I’m serious. They can’t do anything to embarrass me!”

  “Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll make sure I get right on that. Best behavior and all that.”

  “This is going to be a disaster,” I muttered as I pulled the slacks off the hanger.

  I’d barely finished tying my tie when the doorbell rang at a quarter till one. I glared up at the ceiling, because Darren was a fucking liar who showed up early, and no self-respecting gay man ever showed up early. Which meant either he was not a self-respecting gay man, or (and more likely) he was trying to fuck with me and throw me off because he was an asshole.

  I frantically gave myself a once-over in the hallway mirror, sure his mom was going to see my wide eyes and flushed appearance and assume I was hooked on the bathroom crack, just like Darren had asked me after meeting his father. When one sees they look like they do bathroom crack, it’s hard for one to think of anything else.

  “I don’t look like I do bathroom crack,” I muttered to myself as I approached the door. “I don’t look like I do bathroom crack. I don’t look like I do—” I opened the door with the most perfectly fixed smile on my face that showed I was absolutely not a bathroom crack addict. “Hiiiii. It’s so nice to see you. Welcome to my home. Please, come in! Come in. How lovely all this is. Wonderful. Just wonderful.”

  Darren, that motherfucker, knew exactly what my bathroom crack face meant, and I glared at him for a split second, making sure he understood that his death was imminent. Either I wasn’t as intimidating as I thought I was or he’d gotten used to being threatened by me; neither scenario boded well for our future. There would need to be a course correction, and soon.

  Which, of course, led to thoughts of Darren bare-assed and spread over my knee as I administered one heck of a spanking. I don’t know why I automatically went there when thinking corporal punishment. It was unfortunate, given that apparently the idea of such a thing was very amenable to me, seeing as how I found myself dry-mouthed and on the verge of getting hard.

  It didn’t help that Darren, in his tight dress pants and green button-down with the sleeves rolled up, finished off with a black silk tie that I thought would look great wrapped around his wrists and tied to my bedposts, looked like pretty much every fantasy I’d ever begrudgingly had about him. He looked strong and sexy as fuck, and I hated every single goddamn inch of him for making me think so. And I resolutely didn’t focus on his thighs, no matter what kind of a kink he supposedly thought I had for them.

  “Hey,” he said, grin widening like he knew exactly what was going through my head. He stepped right in front of me, slightly crowding me against the door like he had any right to. He leaned in and placed a lingering kiss at the corner of my mouth that I might or might not have reciprocated (for science! Or keeping up with the charade! I had no fucking clue anymore!). He broke the kiss and dragged his nose along my cheek. “You look… good,” he breathed in my ear, bringing with it the reminder this was the closest we’d been to each other since he’d undressed me in the Queen’s Lair and then had followed it up with stupid and confusing words that I found were easier to ignore rather than dissect.

  “Thanks,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat and tried again, dropping my voice. “Thanks.” That came out sounding like I’d smoked six packs a day for forty years.

  That smirk only grew.

  But before I could get any kind of revenge (a knee to the balls came to mind), he stepped away from me and said, “Sandy. This is my mom, Sherry. Mom, this is Sandy.”

  I apparently didn’t know what to expect, and it was only when I saw her for the first time that I realized I’d never seen so much as a picture of her before.

  Sherry Mayne was a diminutive woman, barely above five feet, which was slightly hysterical given the size of her son. Like Darren, she was lightly colored, with beautiful shots of gray lined through her hair. She was wonderfully curved, to the point where she could be considered plump, but looked as strong as anything. I knew she was a nurse, so it was probably a safe bet she could kick my ass any day of the week.

  She was really rather beautiful, despite her age. Maybe even because of it. Her bright eyes were on me and I knew this was the only chance I had to make a first impression, so I steeled myself, got ready to gush and compliment her on everything. But then, of course, I got distracted by what she was wearing and instead said, “Oh my god, I have that same skirt. I wear it when I do my naughty schoolgirl routine at Jack It. It brings all the boys to my yard.”

  Darren turned slowly to stare at me.

  “Wow,” I said, immediately regretting my existence. “That was really awkward. I’m not saying you’re a naughty schoolgirl who dances for money from adoring men like I do. Oh shit, did that make me sound like a stripper? I think that made me sound like a stripper. Holy fuck, I swear to god I’m not a stripper. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s just not for me. I don’t even know any strippers. Okay. That was a lie. There’s a gay strip club in Phoenix called Dick’s that I’ve been to. Multiple times. I know, like, everyone there. But I haven’t stripped. No. I don’t see the point in full nudity on stage. I’m okay with partial nudity, though. I mean, you have to be, right? When you’re performing on stage for money. But not for stripping! I’m a drag queen! I believe Darren might have mentioned that?” I glanced at Darren to save me, but he was still staring at me, jaw dropped, offering nothing in the way of rescue, that asshole. I looked back at his mother. “Well, I am! So. That’s… why I dance for men and money. God, I really wish I would stop saying it like that. I don’t just dance. I lip-synch too. For men. And money. But your skirt! I have that one. Except mine is shorter. Like, shorter. Like, any shorter and it’d probably be considered full frontal. Not that that’s legal at Jack It, ha-ha-ha. Which, I mean, usually isn’t a problem.” My eyes went wide. “Not that we do anything illega
l at Jack It! No. No, no, no. Nothing illegal at all. Why, that would just be crazy.” To show her how crazy it would be, I laughed. Crazily. “Darren here would never allow any illegality. He’s such an upstanding citizen. So… pure and innocent and upstanding. You did good, so. You know. Good job. On that. And in case you’re wondering, no, I absolutely do not do bathroom crack, no matter what Darren might say. Because he’s a liar and fat mouth. But I assume he got that from his father. Not from you. And I really wish I hadn’t brought up his father right now. Because awkward. So. To recap. No bathroom crack, we don’t do anything illegal, I’m not a stripper even though I dance and men give me money, and we have very similar tastes, even though mine tend to be a bit more… slutty.”

  Sherry turned to her son and said, “Okay. You weren’t kidding.”

  “Kidding about what?” I asked, glaring at Darren.

  “Just about how you’re the light of my life,” Darren said easily, pushing me out of the way and letting his mother into the house like he lived there, what the hell. “And also that you would be nervous and would probably ramble a little bit. I just didn’t think it would go that far that quickly.”

  “I’m not nervous,” I retorted. “And I don’t ramble.”

  “Oh, so you always sound half-crazed?” Sherry asked me.

  I gaped at her because now I knew where Darren got his attitude from. It was apparently genetic, which meant there was no hope for him.

  “It’s okay,” she said, reaching up and patting me on the shoulder. “I was prepared for it. It was really rather breathtaking.” She then moved around me, walking around the living room, looking at anything and everything she could lay her eyes on. I couldn’t tell if she was liking what she saw or judging me completely. I prayed for the former and expected the latter.

  As she moved through my house, I stepped closer to Darren. “You told her I ramble?” I hissed at him.

  He arched an unfairly attractive eyebrow at me. “Of course. Because you do. I blame Paul. Or, I blame you for doing it to him. It’s kind of your thing, the both of you. If you’re not prepared for it, it can be kind of scary.”

  “I’ll have you know that every word I say is well thought out and on point.”

  “You basically told my mother she dresses like a drag queen stripper.”

  “I’m not a stripper.”

  “I never would have guessed,” he whispered back, bumping his shoulder against mine, and there it went again, that fucking flutter in my heart like I was swooning. “But you also told her you didn’t do bathroom crack. Like she needed to know that.”

  “I don’t do bathroom crack! And you said it first! I wouldn’t have even thought about that if you hadn’t said it in the first place. So technically, this is all your fault. As usual. Why don’t you think before you speak?”

  “Aw, boo,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I’d known you hung on to every single word I say, I’d have censored myself a little bit more.”

  I sputtered brilliantly at him.

  “Look at you,” Sherry called from the other side of the room. “Whispering quietly to each other like you’re the only ones in the room. Ah, young love. It’s adorable. Also, Sandy—can I call you Sandy?—I must admit to being slightly disappointed. I thought the house of a drag queen would be decorated a bit more… loudly.”

  “Yes, sorry,” I said, unable to stop the snark. “I just got rid of the bedazzled couch and shag carpet last week. I also sent the go-go dancers on vacation for the holidays. Bummer on the timing. Usually it’s feather boas and unnecessary nudity in Casa de Sandy.”

  She waved me off. “That’s all right. I suppose that one’s on me for having unrealistic expectations. After all, I’m not here to see the couch. I’m here to see you. And also maybe the go-go dancers.”

  “By here to see me, you mean judge me, right? Just to clarify, I’m not hip to the mom lingo. Not that I would ever be a mother. Or if I were, I’d be the booze-soaked kind who drank wine out of boxes at the kid’s lacrosse games.” I frowned. “How the hell do I know what lacrosse is? I’ve never even seen lacrosse before. And now you’re judging me.”

  She grinned. “Maybe. But if you’re anything like Darren’s been describing for years, then I don’t think you have too much to worry about. In fact, you’re probably even better than he described. One of those you have to see it to believe it.”

  “Mom,” Darren growled.

  “Aww,” I said, rather pleased at the turn of events. “That’s so adorab—did you say years?”

  “Oh no,” Darren said, tugging on my arm. “Look at the time. We don’t want to be late. We should leave now.” He grabbed my arm and tried to pull me toward the door.

  The nine times I’d done yoga in my life paid off, and I was able to bend and twist out of his grasp with only the barest of twinges to my back. I landed the dismount (though, why there was a dismount, I had no idea), and turned back to Sherry. “Years?” I repeated in such a way to portray my incredulity and also to encourage her to tell me everything.

  “Years,” she agreed. “It was always Sandy this, Helena that with him. For a while there, I was a little concerned at how creepy it was getting. I was waiting for the day that I’d get a call from the police because he’d kidnapped you and put you in a hole in his basement.”

  “Mom,” Darren said, sounding wounded. “Why the hell would you even say—”

  “You wanted to kidnap me and put me in your hole?” I demanded. Then, “Wait. That didn’t come out like I wanted it to.”

  He buried his face in his hands.

  “I told him it was about time he grew a pair and asked you out,” Sherry said. “Because either he needed to nut up or shut up.”

  Nut up or shut up, I mouthed rather aggressively at Darren, who responded with another of his dying moose sounds.

  “And apparently he did and here you are,” Sherry said. “I never would have thought he had it in him.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Oh really. Is that what he told you happened? Because if he did, then he didn’t nut up at all. Maybe nutted up with his lies.”

  “I knew he was lying,” Sherry crowed. “I’ve told him to get over himself for years and just ask you out already. But he was always like, ‘Mom, you don’t understand.’” Her voice had dropped in an approximation of her son and it was glorious. “Sandy’s not like everyone else. He’s too perfect. You just don’t get it. God. Just let me sit here and stew in my man pain.’” She rolled her eyes fondly. “Always the drama queen, that one. One time, when he was nine—maybe ten?—he came home from school crying that his life was over because the girl he liked in his class told him she thought his nose was too big. I told him he’d just have to grow into it. And look! He did. Mostly. And now he has a boyfriend. It’s like all his dreams came true.”

  “Oh my god,” Darren moaned from behind me. By the tone of his voice, I thought it was possible he was dying. “This can’t be happening.”

  “This is seriously the greatest day of my life,” I said rather breathlessly. Because even though I knew maybe things weren’t quite the way they’d been when we’d started, I didn’t know it’d apparently been years that he’d been—“He was pining over me!”

  “Pretty much,” Sherry said. “Trust me when I say I pretty much know every detail of your routines at the club. Excruciating detail. Especially when you apparently did this backward crabwalk thing? According to Darren, it was amazing to watch, but I think that was just a euphemism for things no mother should ever hear from her son. Sexual things.”

  “Maybe we should just—” Darren tried (and failed miserably).

  “I asked him out,” I said, because it was sort of true. And also sort of not, but still. Mostly true.

  “Did you? Because see, that makes more sense.” She looked over my shoulder at her son and said, “I knew you couldn’t do it, but like any good mother, I kept my mouth shut. Even though you lied.” She looked back at me. “How did it happen?”

 
; I was enjoying this far more than I probably should have. “Well, once upon a time, there was the most beautiful of drag queens—”

  “Oh Jesus,” Darren snapped as he came up beside me, his face redder than I’d ever seen it before. He wouldn’t even look at me, the poor man, though I suppose if all my secrets were being revealed, I’d feel the same. “We are not listening to that story again. Yes, fine. He asked me out, I said yes because I had nothing better to do—”

  “Ahem,” I said. “Oh, sorry. I just had something in my throat.”

  “I said yes because it looked like Sandy was going to cry if I said—”

  “Ahem. Gosh. I am so sorry. The pollen today is really quite bad. In the fall, even. Who would have thought? Damn you, global warning. Argh.”

  “Because he kept pushing—”

  “A-hem.”

  “Because I felt sorry for—”

  I sneezed, quite pleased with the timing of it. Darren was not pleased if the look he shot me was any indication. “Excuse me,” I said pleasantly. “I have loud sneezes. Like a man.”

  “Bless you,” Sherry said.

  “I said yes,” Darren bit out, “because I was just so overjoyed.”

  “Much better, bae,” I said. “Doesn’t the truth feel good? I bet it feels good. Your truth telling.”

  He muttered something under his breath that I was sure was essentially confessing his undying admiration for my wit and my body.

  “I like you,” Sherry said, eyeing me up and down. “Even if you don’t have a bedazzled couch.”

  That shouldn’t have made me feel as happy as it did. “I like you as well. I blame Darren for not introducing us sooner.”

  Darren said, “I don’t think this was a good—”

  “It’s like he was trying to keep us apart or something.” Sherry pulled out her phone and handed it to me. “Put your number in there so we can talk about Darren behind his back. Matty already gives me updates, but I think they’d be better if they came directly from you. Then I can send you embarrassing photos of when he was younger. Do you know he went through a phase where he liked New Kids on the Block? And when I say liked, I mean obsessed. He had NKOTB lunch boxes and pajamas and posters and underwear. Though, in hindsight, it makes so much more sense now. He was gay for NKOTB.”