by Scotty Cade
When it was his turn to be seated, Garner was tapped on the shoulder and did a double take to find himself being escorted to his table by a tall but very beautiful Britney Spears. Much to Garner’s surprise, he was led toward one of the high-top tables directly in front of the stage, but he stopped short when he almost ran into Bette Midler having a disagreement with Bette Davis over who was the biggest diva. He quickly apologized and took his seat, not wanting to get in the middle of their shtick. Britney took his drink order, and he sat back to take in the sights. The place was a who’s who of celebrities, all decked out in their finest. Doing a quick scan of the room, he spotted Lady Gaga and Mae West taking drink orders and Carol Channing, Phyllis Diller, Liza Minnelli, and Barbra Streisand milling about the crowd greeting guests. And last but not least, a seven-foot Amy Winehouse was going from table to table with a very large can of hairspray, offering to spray everyone’s hair. Of course these were not-so-cheap imitations, but man were they entertaining.
Shortly after Garner’s drink came, the lights dimmed, and the live band started an overture of show tunes. Minutes later, the MC introduced the incomparable John Webster. The crowd hushed until you could have heard a pin drop. Suddenly, the music started and Garner immediately recognized the intro to “If I Could Turn Back Time.” When the curtain opened, Jack was standing center stage in an exact replica of the black leather body suit Cher wore on the aircraft carrier during the video. Garner’s mouth dropped open in amazement, and from where he was sitting, he would have sworn he was watching the real thing. Garner studied Jack’s performance very closely, and every mannerism and movement was spot-on. Each lip-synced word had obviously been practiced for endless hours and was definitely hitting the mark. Garner found himself continually checking out Jack’s crotch area, or lack thereof, curious as to where he was hiding his junk because it was nowhere in sight.
The song ended with the crowd up on their feet and thunderous rounds of applause. Garner found himself on his feet right along with the rest, whistling and clapping like he’d just seen the real Cher. The room eventually quieted, and everyone sat back down as Jack sauntered to center stage and picked up the microphone. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” he said, bowing his head and curtsying. “Welcome to The Crystal Room Cabaret. My name is John Webster, and along with our regular cast of lovelies, we hope to thoroughly entertain you this evening.”
The crowd went wild again, and Jack motioned for their attention with his index finger. “But… but….” The crowd slowly quieted again. “In addition to our usual star-studded lineup, we have a legend on our boards this evening. Who, you ask?” Cher brought her hand up to cup her ear, and the crowd all yelled “Who?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” Cher teased. “None other than the very funny and demented Divine Miss Richfield, directly from P-Town.”
The crowd erupted again, and Jack bowed his head once more. When the room quieted, Jack spoke again. “David, let’s turn up the lights and see who we have with us tonight.”
The house lights came up slowly, and Garner felt a rush of panic when Jack’s eyes locked on his. “What a handsome crowd we have this evening,” Jack continued, making his way into the audience and offering his hand to Garner.
The audience roared and applauded when Garner nervously stood and, as if on autopilot, allowed Cher to lead him to center stage. His heart was pounding, and he was sure his face was as red as a beet. Once on stage, he stood very still, and for the first time in a very long time, he was scared shitless. He squinted against the spotlights, and his body began to tighten up limb by limb. Suddenly, he felt like one big awkward pile of flesh and bones and had no idea what to do with himself. He absentmindedly shoved his hands in his pockets and planted his feet firmly on the stage as if to keep from bolting.
“Relax, honey,” Cher told him, looking him up and down. “Isn’t he the cutest thing you’ve ever seen? Tell the audience where you’re from.”
Garner bounced from one foot to the other. “Manhattan,” he squeaked out in a barely audible voice.
Cher tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled. “What brings you all the way from the big city to li’l ole Key West?” she asked.
Unable to think of another answer, Garner said, “M-my sailboat.”
The crowd roared again, and Cher chuckled. “Well put,” she said, sucking in her cheeks. “A man of few words, I can see.”
By now Garner knew he was blushing horribly, stuttering incomprehensibly, and making a complete and utter fool of himself. Oh come on, Gar, get it together. You can handle this.
“What do you say, gang?” Cher said to the crowd. “Is it time for Crystal virgin karaoke?”
The crowd exploded into a roar once more and started chanting “Virgin… virgin… virgin.”
Appalled at what he’d just heard, Garner considered running, but as in his worst nightmares, his feet wouldn’t move. Besides, Cher had fished one hand out of his pocket, obviously sensing that he might just bolt, and had a firm grip on him.
Someone plucked his other hand out of his pocket, and he turned to see Marilyn Monroe shoving a microphone into it. His blood pumped through his veins at record-breaking speed, and he broke into a sweat.
“Do you see that teleprompter over there?” Cher asked, pointing to a large screen near the sound booth. “Just follow my lead and sing the ‘Sonny’ part, okay?”
Before Garner could protest, he heard the band start the intro for Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You Babe.”
He felt Jack squeeze his hand as he started singing in his real voice.
“They say we’re young and we don’t know, we won’t find out until we grow.”
Garner saw the words moving up on the teleprompter and followed along as best he could. When Jack finished his part Garner knew he was up, but his damn mouth wouldn’t work.
“Okay, okay, boys,” Jack said as the band stopped. “Let’s give Garner a few seconds to catch his breath, so to speak. We did just spring this on him.”
Garner released a breath at his short reprieve and took the time to try and calm his reckless nerves. His mind was on overload, and he was getting light-headed, but just when he thought he might pass out, his professional training kicked in, and he quickly started to analyze the situation.
I’m stuck up here with nowhere to go, so I might as well relax and make the best of it. I know this song, so that’s not a problem, and no one in this damn audience knows me, so what have I got to lose?
After talking himself down, he started to relax a little. What do I have to lose? I did come to Key West to loosen up and have a little fun. Why not go with it? Fuck it!
Cher said something he didn’t pay any attention to and the intro started again. Garner opened his eyes, straightened his backbone, and looked directly into the spotlight.
After Jack was done singing his part again, the teleprompter read “Sonny,” and Garner opened his mouth.
“Well… I don’t know if all that’s true, ’cause you… got me and baby… I got you.”
The crowd was now up on their feet swaying and clapping, and Garner felt their energy urging him on. He knew he was a little behind the music, and suddenly, he wanted to do better.
Jack and Garner sang the chorus together, and it was Jack’s turn to sing his verse.
While Jack sang, Garner took a deep breath and felt surer of himself this go round. With his next verse quickly rolling up on the teleprompter, he prepared to sing. This time he was right on top of the notes and even adlibbed a little bit.
Jack smiled in surprise and squeezed his hand as they sang the entire song. The more Garner relaxed, the better he sounded.
By this time the audience had the tabletop candles in their hands and they were swaying from side to side singing along. When the song ended, the place exploded. Garner knew he was smiling from ear to ear and couldn’t help it. Garner and Jack took several bows, still hand in hand, and then Jack spoke. “Let’s give it up for Garner Holt, everyone,” he ye
lled into the microphone. “What a good sport. Welcome to Key West.”
Garner felt his smile broaden as he waved and allowed Jack to lead him back to his table.
“Good job,” Jack leaned in and whispered in his ear as he took his seat.
The rest of the evening was a star-studded lineup of all the best gay icons ever and the hilarious monologues of the Divine Miss Richfield, all very entertaining. When the show was over, Garner went back to the bar to say goodbye to Austin and was instantly met with a round of applause from everyone who’d just seen him in the show. As he walked through the bar looking for a seat, people slapped him on the back and told him how good he was, smiled seductively at him, and slipped pieces of paper in his pockets.
He finally found a seat at the far end of the bar and plopped down on the stool, suddenly exhausted.
Austin walked over, placed a white bar napkin in front of him, and added a glass of port. “On me,” he said, slapping both hands on the bar and smiled broadly. “You earned it. I hear you put on quite a show in there.”
Garner felt the blush again consume his face, and he smiled weakly, uncharacteristically downing the glass of port. He winced from the burn, and when he could finally speak, he said, “I’m not sure whether I should deck you or thank you. I embarrassed the hell out of myself, but I think I got a pocketful of phone numbers. But seriously, Austin. You could have warned me, man.”
Austin chuckled. “If I’d have warned you, you would’ve made a beeline for your boat and sailed right out of here.”
Garner chuckled. “I guess you’re right. But maybe a little hint might have helped. For the first five minutes, I looked like a deer in headlights up there.”
“Fear not, my new friend,” Austin teased. “It happens to everyone.” He nodded at the empty glass. “Another?”
Garner thought about another drink, then decided against it. “Nah. I just really came in to say good night. I think I’m in the mood for some dancing. Any suggestions?”
“Hell yeah,” Austin said with confidence. “Just down the street on Duval is a club called Aqua. Best dance bar in Key West.”
“Perfect,” Garner said. “Sounds like a plan.”
Austin stuck his hand across the bar. “It was really nice to meet you,” he said. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Garner accepted the outreached hand and the two men shook. “The pleasure was all mine,” he said sarcastically, throwing a twenty on the bar. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back. And please say good night to Jack for me.”
“Will do. See you soon!”
Chapter 4
HAWK’S DINNER had taken longer than he’d anticipated, and he’d run the last few blocks, determined to get to the club on time. Completely out of breath, he stepped up to the ticket counter, held up his index finger, and mouthed the words “One, please.”
Ticket in hand, still breathing heavily, he looked at his watch. Two minutes to spare. That should blow him away.
Seconds later, a topless Miley Cyrus wearing a huge Styrofoam wrecking ball came over. He described Justin to her, and she quickly escorted him over to one of the banquettes in the far corner of the club. Justin was perched on his throne, sipping his vodka tonic and waving frantically. “Wow, I’m impressed,” he said. “You made it before the curtain went up.”
Hawk smiled with a sense of pride he didn’t usually allow himself and slid around to the back of the banquette next to Justin. He ordered a beer from Bette Midler and kissed Justin on the cheek.
That move apparently made Justin happy because he smiled and started to chatter about everything from his day to how excited he was to see Miss Richfield. Taking a long pull off his beer, Hawk listened intently as he scanned the club to see if he recognized anyone or saw anything that might interest him. He nearly spit out his beer when he locked on to the uptight guy from the marina, sitting at a table front and center. “Well, well, well,” he mumbled under his breath. “Look who knows Dorothy.”
“I know, right?” Justin said. Then he obviously realized Hawk wasn’t commenting on his rambling. “Wait, what? Who’s Dorothy? What are you talking about?” Justin followed Hawk’s gaze and suddenly stopped talking.
Without turning away from what held his attention, Hawk said, “It’s a term closeted gay men used a long time ago to find out if another man was gay or not.”
“I don’t get it,” Justin said.
“You know Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, right?”
“Of course, everyone knows Dorothy.”
“Dorothy and Judy Garland were gay idols. Hence the expression ‘Does he know Dorothy?’ Get it?”
When Justin didn’t answer, Hawk glanced at his best friend and got a sarcastic smile in return. “What an absolutely lovely story.”
Turning back to the uptight guy, Hawk said, “I’m glad I could help educate you.”
Justin huffed. “I think this is a new record, Hawk.”
“What do you mean?”
“It took all of ten minutes for you to find something or someone else to occupy your attention.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Hawk responded, knowing perfectly well what Justin meant.
“Oh please,” Justin said. “Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve seen that look in your eye before.”
“Well this time you’re way off,” Hawk responded, turning once again to face his best friend. “I don’t even know the guy.”
Justin slapped the tabletop, rattling their drinks. “Isn’t that the way it always is with you? You don’t know him now, but you will sure as hell know him later.”
Hawk hated that Justin knew him so well. “No—I mean yes, you’re right. Usually that’s how it works, but not this time!” Hawk said curtly, then turned to get another look at the uptight guy. “The truth is I know of the guy, but I don’t really know him. He’s got a boat at my marina, and I saw him when I was walking home this morning.”
Justin chuckled. “You mean when you were doing the walk of shame with no shirt or shoes?”
Before Hawk had time to respond, the lights went down and the music started. He closed his eyes and exhaled. Man, I couldn’t have planned that better.
Justin leaned over and whispered, “Just so you know, we’re not done with this conversation.”
“Yippee,” Hawk said through clenched teeth.
The curtains opened and Cher stood in a single spotlight.
THE FIRST act ended with a big production number starring Barbra Streisand singing “His Love Makes Me Beautiful” from the movie Funny Girl, complete with a pregnant bride.
When the curtain went down and the lights came up, Justin was glaring at Hawk. “So,” he said. “Are you going to tell me what’s with you and that guy, or am I going to have to go over and ask him?”
Hawk sighed. “There’s really nothing to tell.”
Justin gave him that familiar look of disbelief he often wore when Hawk tried to hide things from him.
“Fine,” Hawk said with a defeated tone. “You remember how I told you his boat was at the marina a few slips down from mine when I got home this morning? From the look on his face when I was walking toward him, I think he thought I was going to rob him or something.”
“What do you expect, Hawk?” Justin proclaimed. “Strolling in at sunrise with no shirt or shoes. I saw you this morning, remember? You looked like you’d been rode hard and put away wet. And… based on what’s been going on with you for quite some time now, you probably had been.”
That stung just a little bit, but Hawk quickly recovered. “I guess you have a point,” he said. “But something about the guy really bothered me. He was stiff as a board and gave me this weird look. He kept his eyes on me until I got on my boat.”
“Let’s face it, Hawk, you’re a scary guy. Even in your Sunday best. Imagine how the guy felt being new to the marina and seeing you in that condition at that time of the morning.”
“But he just looked so uptight.”
“You’re my best friend, Ha
wk, and I would have looked uptight given the circumstances. Give the guy a break. He didn’t look too uptight just now.”
“He did at first,” Hawk replied. “But then he seemed to loosen up and really get into it.”
Justin leaned back and rested his arm on the back of the banquette. “I agree, and I think you need to stop by his boat and introduce yourself and maybe apologize for scaring the guy. Let him know you’re not an ax murderer.”
Hawken thought for a second and realized that Justin was probably right. “If he stays on at the marina for a while, I’ll stop by. But for all I know he might just be passing through and gone by tomorrow.”
“Good boy,” Justin said.
The lights dimmed, and the music again filled the club.
By the end of the night, Hawken had been thoroughly entertained. Miss Richfield was funny as hell and had totally lived up to Justin’s promise. He couldn’t remember the last time he and his best friend had had such a good time or the last time he’d laughed so hard.
He and Justin hung back at their table for thirty minutes or so after the show, just talking and enjoying each other’s company. He remembered why he loved the guy so much and why they’d become best friends. They were polar opposites at every turn, but for some reason, it worked for them. They would sit for hours debating topic after topic until they were both so exhausted they’d agree to disagree.
Hawk wasn’t ready for the night to end, so he suggested they head to the little bar and have a nightcap. He wanted to spend more time with Justin, but he was also secretly hoping he might run into Garner Holt.
He and Justin took a seat at the bar, and Hawk casually looked around.
“I don’t see him either,” Justin said, eyeing him.
Surprised that he’d been busted again, Hawk smiled weakly. “Oh give it a break, Butt-rah.” Butt-rah was a nickname Justin’s brother had given him when he was a child, and he despised it. In the beginning, Hawk knew just when to use it for effect, but it had since become a term of endearment, although Justin still hated it.
