“J.D.?”
He pulls my hand.
“C’mon, we’re late!”
In seconds, we rejoin the crowd and merge into the flow.
“What,” I demand, “the eff were you thinking? Back there? With the scary Latina Lady in Red?”
“Scary, that’s funny.” He doesn’t laugh. “Forget it.”
Up ahead, Hammer waits on a corner, sole propped against an octagon-shaped YIELD sign. He sees us, and pushes off. J.D. and I follow his enormous muscle ass. I keep my eyes fixed on the white G-string dividing his Clydesdale buttocks and tiny waist.
Hammer’s Ass serves as our personal lighthouse. So long as I can see it, I know we’re heading somewhere. A destination.
The Gay Moses, Hammer, parts the crowd. People stop and stare at his scandalous getup and flawless body. Flashbulbs pop, people whistle. They ignore us. We’re the entourage for The Halloween Prom King.
I tap into my fortune teller genes (crystal ball, Ali Bababu-lous, lacquered lids, my inner I Dream of Jeannie) and predict: “In twenty years, people will look at these Halloween pictures. They’ll add a digital fade feature or 3-D’ize it and, for the first time, notice the boys walking behind the Go-Go God—and say, Look at those beautiful boys.”
“What?” J.D. says. Even if he heard my prediction, I doubt he’d understand it. I’ve cast us in the past while living in the present. Sentimental memories aren’t in J.D.’s wheelhouse.
Another corner. We turn and walk down a narrow side street. We join the pilgrimage of beautiful freaks. A Kofi roll on a Nefertiti-shaped head; glossy boy lips slide off a mouth like rainbow-colored push-up Popsicles.
“Where are we going?” I ask. “Or is that another surprise?”
“Center of the Universe,” he says, ignoring my dig.
I hear the club before I see it. Loud bass rumbles underfoot. Closer, blue lights twinkle, scattered like fairy dust on the dull gray pavement. We stand outside a three-story brick building.
“That’s it. You dance?”
“Sure,” I lie. Really, for me, dancing’s a big, Huh? I’ll fake it. Belly dance my way down the dance floor.
At the door, Hammer turns and waves. We walk to the front of the line. Security give us the nod, and we step inside.
“I love it.”
“Yeah, the music’s totally on,” J.D. says, pulling my hand. If I live in a past that hasn’t yet happened, he’s somewhere else, too. Here.
I smile, don’t bother to explain I love our Lolito and the Bandit act. It trumps the law, age of consent, everything be damned.
Chapter 77
We walk down a slanted ramp into white fog. Churning colored lights turn the white to blue and pink and yellow. Giant fans suck up the fog, creating a rainbow-colored tornado.
“Dude, we’re not in Kansas no more!” J.D. shouts over the loud music. I doubt L. Frank Baum knew Oz would become the philosophical foundation and color swatch for a rainbow nation.
Next stop, the igloo room, a frosty pass-through with walls made of blue glass bricks and metallic icicles hanging from the ceiling.
The music stops.
“But I don’t hear no music!” a boy whines over the PA. “Ohhhh, that’s better! Turn it up! I’m waiting for the music and then I can feel it.”
The music kicks in.
Over it, the voice loops, “Work me, work me, work me—”
We must be closer to the dance floor: instinct, J.D. moves. His limbs and torso catch the beat.
“Here.” J.D. puts out his right hand. Two tiny, white pills sit in his palm. “Want?”
I shake my head.
“Trust,” he says, “you’ll love it.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to trip tonight.”
“Whatever.” He shrugs.
Truth is, even if it’s J.D., I’m tired of people giving me pills and making me feel the way they want me to feel.
We turn another corner to face a vast grotto. The dance floor’s huge, three football fields. And packed. Rave on, children!
Overhead, a galaxy of blinking lights dance and pulsate. Music comes at us from every direction. Now I know how captive dolphins feel. My ears quiver.
“See?!” J.D. says, his voice swallowed up by the artificial cosmos. “The center of the universe!”
“Typical Western decadence,” Moustapha would sneer.
“The Milky Way!” I mouth. Even though, in space, nobody can hear you scream. Or, talk.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The music’s simple, a four-four beat headache. I might need to reconsider the white pill. It could help me get through the night.
Hammer appears and hands us bottled waters.
“Laters!” he shouts, spinning off, a Sun God ISO satellites and stardust.
Again, J.D. holds out an open palm with pills. Tempting.
I shake my head and mouth, “No, thank you.”
“It’s a party! Let’s party!”
He might be right. I calculate the odds. The club’s big. But so’s the world, and it hasn’t exactly been “safe.” If I take the pill and lose my mind, the club’s an enclosed space. I can’t wander off or get lost.
I take it. Looking in one another’s eyes, we pop the pills, tilt the bottles and swallow. And … I feel nothing. I knew it. Aspirin. The water bottle triggers a memory of being—
Whoosh! My heart opens up. Springtime in my chest. Ten million flowers blossom. All my pain and hopelessness and fear drops away and I’m left with one feeling—
Love
I look at J.D. and send him my love. I project my love up, to the lights. I hope they’ll catch my love and spread it around this beautiful universe. The lights do what I wish and spread my love, Magick Milky Way butter slid over layers of everything—J.D., the guy next to me, Hammer dancing on a box and all souls gathered here in the dark.
Dancing’s easy. My body moves, effortless. J.D. and me inch closer to the true center of this miniature universe. My feet feel light. I look down: We hover, a few feet above the floor. No magic carpet, just the ride. J.D. steps forward, his smile forming the words:
I’ve watched your face for a long time
On the first—
love
He spins away—
love
I’m excited. I want to tell him I feel it.
love
And on
—us
The song brings him back. Hand out, finger-shaped molecules touch my shoulder, caress my chest, travel down to my hip. He teases me, seduces me. I move to him, ready to surrender.
He steps away, his body plucking petals from the flower of my heart. “He loves me? He loves me not?” He spins me around and ’round in his arms. Maybe it’s the pill, maybe it’s him. He’s gone, I’m back inside the song and J.D.’s a satellite, spun far, far away from my orbit. His cosmic coming and going has wound me up.
I wonder. “Romance?” Is it something like teetering over a spiked iron fence post? Or, crossing a rotten drawbridge over a moat stocked with hungry alligators? Am I ready to leap? Or, am I in free fall—
love
into J.D.’s arms? Will he be there to catch me? If I should fall? Or, am I about to land in ravenous, razor-sharp jaws. End up chewed to bits, swallowed and spit out.
The music quickens. J.D.’s back. I know this even though my eyes are shut. Because I feel him, his warmth. His red heart light burns bright in his chest. His brown skin slides over me. He leans toward me, lips brushing my left ear, and whispers, “Mi’jo, like this.”
Hands on my waist, he moves my hips. I belong to him.
“Move, yeah, like that, good.”
Joined at the hips, we move as one with the song.
I know, this whole thing’s a joke. I expect him to leave with a laugh.
But this time, he doesn’t leave. He stays. He stops. I stop. We stop. We stand still. Our bodies vibrate, still moving to the music. He takes my head in his hands and leans toward me. Eyes closed, lips pursed, ready to kiss.
And why not? All I have to lose is my heart.
I part my lips. His tongue jumps inside. I feel a warm, flickering flame. It lights the tiny cave. His eyelashes flutter, and butterflies land on my cheeks.
My hand drops and lands on his back. My fingertips trace the muscles, following the path down, into his ass crack. Our lips part, I close my eyes and rest my body against his.
“Abre los ojos.”
Chapter 78
I open my eyes
And see
Giant mirror balls spinning, throwing off light. Rainbow-colored explosions. I peer into infinity. Gaze into forever.
We stand at the center of the universe. Eye witness to everything. Birth. Death. Creation. Destruction.
Blackout
Silence
The crowd takes a breath, thousands of souls pulling in prana, life.
Time stops
Limbo, we hang between a vast nothing and mysterious something
Time stops
Beauty Horror Love Death Hope Fear
Eternity reveals
Everything and its opposite.
I look back, into the past. Forward, into the future. I lift my arms, and reach. I stand on the midline. A current—time—runs through my body.
Everything and Its Opposite.
I am
Pop!
White
Flash!
A line shoots across the top of the room. A white horizon equal to the Universe. The white turns into greenpurpleoran-geredyellow and fades to Sunset. Night. Dawn. Oranges, yellows, pinks.
J.D. and I hold one another. We sway. We’re not alone. Other hidden ones join us. Tonight, we walk among faeries, angels, demons and ghosts. Creatures, many inhuman.
I could dance for hours. I’ll never tire. The pill amplifies the feeling. Ecstasy. Spills over the edge. The moment of. Consciousness.
Reality steps up, cuts in.
“Hey,” I say. “I need to pee.”
J.D.’s mouth moves. Huh? I shrug, I’m deaf. He points, Up, UP. Someone’s stolen the sound. What was speeded up has slowed down and become silent. Is this. Mental telepathy. Astral projection. The fifth dimension.
“I need to …” I want to say, but the words fall away.
“I know!” J.D. yells. “I’m taking you there!”
He tugs my hand, leads me off the dance floor. Away from the cosmic center. Buddha’s belly button. Bathroom, I don’t see the point. I resist. I don’t want to go. I want to stay. Get lost in the music. Dance, forever and ever and ever. I wonder if the club’s open until then.
Chapter 79
Dimly lit, the bathroom’s vast, a rectangle bookended by red walls lined with mirrors and black floors. Stalls with silver metal doors opposite a long row of silver sinks.
We step into the hall of mirrors. Five hundred thousand faces. Our reflections, faces brushed with sweat, glassy eyed from gazing into infinity.
A gentleman, J.D. opens a stall, ushers me inside.
“I’ll wait for you.”
I’m filled with bliss and gratitude. The stall is incredible. Music filters into the space. I close my eyes. Swaying. Still moving. Happy.
My bladder threatens to burst. It knocks me out my trance-dancey-ectasy-haze. I’m gonna pee my pants if I don’t take care of business. In the cosmic scheme of things, I could wet my pants and it wouldn’t matter. However, I don’t want to smell like piss.
Unzip, UNZIP! The space station’s about to explode. I need to eject. Frantic, I search for the zipper. Anita must have put one in. I search my crotch, hips and—there it is—on the ass. I squat-hover. The pill didn’t take away my bacterial phobia.
Done, I stand and reach for the door. Before I step out, I pause and look through the crack. Habit? Maybe. The last time I was in a bathroom stall, I saw—oh, never mind.
J.D.’s head. No biggie except—he’s kissing—a girl? Feeling her up. The girl’s head tilts, back, turns to the side. I see her face: Pony.
I close my eyes. No. This can’t be. Another murder. Only this time, the knife’s been stuck in my heart.
Fumbling, I open the door. My emotions have switched. Adrenaline surge. I’m ready to run. Or, fight. Yeah, I’ll confront Pony. Thrown down. Fuck. Him. Up.
I open the door. The love is gone.
“Hey!”
J.D. turns, looks.
“Hi.” He smiles. He’s alone. My blood runs hot. I look for Pony. I’m ready to fight. Or, fuck. Something. My body’s all messed up.
He reaches out, fingertips tracing my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I—” I can’t say what’s wrong. I’m embarrassed. “Nothing. Let’s go back.”
He takes my hand. His natural warmth melts my hard heart. I never knew: Anger’s not hot, but cold.
Am I so high that maybe—maybe—I imagined I saw the kiss? Or, did I just see what I wanted to see?
Chapter 80
We climb a narrow flight of stairs, following a trail of sweat. At the top, we step out a tiny door and onto a rooftop. It’s overrun with plants, flowers, ferns. I should feel safe in this garden of earthly delights. But my vertigo swells. I swallow to push down the barf.
J.D. leads, and I follow him to the edge. A matchbook-sized ledge separates us from the city. Slip and there’s nothing to grab. Vast, the city’s a tidal wave of twinkling lights.
I turn away and back, toward Eden. Miniature orange trees are wrapped in snowflake lights. Buddha fountains gurgle. Loungey chill music tumbles out hidden speakers. Nearby, the blue-green pyramid and its rising columns of colored lights.
“You like?” J.D. stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
So many mixed feelings. I can’t answer. He is with me, not Kidd or Pony. “Remember,” I tell myself, “back in the McDonald’s he did cut off Pigfucker’s balls and risk his life to save you.”
“Yeah,” I say. His head rests on my shoulder, the same way it did in the bathroom, after Anita dyed my hair. I smile. It feels fake but looks real enough to hide my distrust. “I like it a lot.”
He lets me go and walks to the edge of the roof. His legs dangle over the dead drop. I join him, and sit, a few feet away, back against a concrete square. The bass vibrates under my palms.
“Look”—I say, running my fingers over a web of tiny cracks—“at what the music’s done.”
J.D. leans away from the edge and kisses my neck. “How d’you feel?”
“Great.” I smile, this time for real. The night’s too short to hold a grudge. ’Sides, I can’t remember what it is I’m holding on to. I let it go. A kiss. That’s no crime. Besides, we’re out of our minds. High on the Love Drug. “Amazing.”
“I knew you’d love it.”
I lean toward him, take his hand and pull him to me. I don’t want to leave. I refuse to sit on the edge. He comes to me. I could lie here, like this, his body against mine. We don’t need the fake universe. We have the real one overhead.
“Look, all those stars.”
“Inside?” he says, and jumps up, antsy. “One more spin on the dance floor!”
I crack up. My laughter infects him. We collapse on one another, overcome with the giggles. But under my happy exterior, I’ve cooled. I watch. I know I can say anything and he’ll do or say what I want. It’s so obvious, he wants to please me. He wants something, and there’s not a long list of things I have to offer.
He kissed another boy behind my back—and thought I wouldn’t see. Even so, I want to join my good, pure part with his good, pure part. I see them. They’re a perfect fit.
I remove my cool gaze, step forward and join him. Bound to end? Maybe. I might be settling for something less than love. I’m aware, our dreams are drug induced. I haven’t felt this good in months, for over a year. It’s been so long. I didn’t notice, but one day I forgot how to feel good. Tomorrow, true, I might wake up hung over or brokenhearted. Right now, I crave happiness. Yes. I decide. It’
s worth it. I’ll pay the price.
Chapter 81
“One more, baby,” J.D. raps under his breath, anxious to leave and return to the dance floor. His thumbs press my lower back, palms over my butt, fingers fanned over my waist. Behind me, he guides us back to the dance floor. Overhead, the lights shift, ceiling filled with upside down synchronized swimmers.
Here, it’s ground zero of the queer universe. We’re surrounded by bouncing boys with glistening bare chests. Ethereal hippy chick girls and dark-eyed gypsies. Swirling, they churn the air, skirts blown out, gold jewelry lighting up the air, fingers throwing thunderbolts.
Our universe is filled with happiness and laughter. Mouths part, teeth flash, wet dreads flay. Feathers flutter, slick bodies glitter with gold dust.
“We are family,” blares on the speakers. The crowd sings along, raising their arms and a mass of handheld lighters, flames flickering in dark. The song makes me eyeball the club. My temporary family is present and accounted for. Abduction free. Over there, Kidd and Hammer share a go-go box, get down and make out. Maybe Kidd’s moved on. Maybe I’ll be able to stop worrying about watching my back. Anita—she’s on a box, absolute center of the dance floor. She shares the square with The Flaming Minora. Their lips are locked in a passionate kiss. All that’s left is ménage à trois: Peanuts, Marci and Pony. Three sis-tas, just like the song.
I lean toward J.D. “What’s that song?”
“Disco classic.” J.D. gestures at the crowd. “For a queer monster mash-up. Gotta love a room filled with circuit queens, skin heads and diesel dykes and femme bots. Forget Gay Pride, Halloween’s the shit!”
BAM!
Lights out—
Pitch black—
Overhead, another flash of white light, bright as an atom bomb and—
“Noel!” an announcer’s voice booms.
Spotlight blinks, ON, and hits a towering black woman. Anita’s Auntie? She walk / floats across the stage. White fabric’s draped over her gleaming, mahogany skin. Her Macy’s Day Parade–sized afro’s back lit, a follicular rainbow.
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