“Oh, yes, most definitely,” he said, taking her all in. “We said ‘exotic dancer,’ in my time. So how do you two know each other?” He pointed his finger back and forth, quizzically.
“Oh, Derek’s a regular down at Chesty Cheese where I work. Y’all should come down some time! It’s a blast. We’ll see if Peaches has any father/son specials.” She laughed and placed herself on the floor, stretching her legs before the class began.
Johnny looked at me, confused as hell.
“Yes, Johnny,” I said. “I go to strip clubs. But I’m still gay. Not everything is so black and white.”
“Oh, boy, do I have things to learn,” he said, eyebrows high.
“Don’t we all,” I said. “Don’t we all.”
12
THE BONGO ROOM
“How was yoga?” Luke was in the kitchen making dinner when I arrived at his place.
“I feel like ten miles of bad road,” I said, as I sprawled out on the couch. “That was not an easy journey. Apparently I’m not as stretchy as I used to be. We need to work on that.”
He walked into the room, sat down next to me and handed me a glass of red wine.
“My hero! How’d you know I was at yoga, anyway?” I asked.
“You sent me a text. Don’t you remember?”
“I send you lots of texts, smart ass. You never write back.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t read ‘em.” He smiled. “How’s life with Johnny?”
“Strange, but interesting.” I took a long sip of wine. “It’s weird getting to know someone who you kind of already know because you share the same genes, but still, I don’t really know him, yet. Oh, my god. You should have seen his eyes bug out when Tammy and the girls from Chesty Cheese joined us in class. He’s definitely an admirer of beauty. For sure.”
“Like father, like son?” He looked at me, playfully.
“Are you flattering yourself, Coach?”
He laughed. “What are you up for tonight? Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. A quiet night on the couch? Movie?”
“You know what?” I said, and placed my almost empty wine glass down on the coffee table. “We need something to take our minds off all this BS for awhile. Kit invited us to see Shawn’s band at the Bongo Room tonight. How’s that sound?”
“That sounds perfect. I need something to distract me from my family. I just hung up the phone with my father.”
“Uh oh. Trouble with Red?”
“No, not really,” said Luke, picking at the shiny paper label on the neck of his beer bottle. “At least, I don’t think so. I think he feels the need to intervene. Family patriarch, and all. He’s invited us over for a family dinner on Friday. Lana, you and me. All of us. It was a positive move from him, that’s for sure, but if I was a betting man I’d say it was Rosa’s idea.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter whose idea it was,” I said. “Let’s hope we can solve everything, because if not, I think you and I need to consider the Witness Protection program. I’m thinking France.”
“Perfect solution, Mr. Runaway, but right now let’s stick with your plan of drinks and music.”
“Spoil sport. You’d look so good in a blue and white striped t-shirt and a beret.”
The Bongo Room was downtown in the Warehouse District. We called it “the WD,” which actually sounded more like “the Dubbya Dee.” In the early 1900s the railways extended themselves through the more populated Southern towns, and Parkville made the grade. The WD quickly established itself as the center for trade and commerce. When the railroads began to die out, so did this part of town. The warehouses were emptied and abandoned and became derelict husks of the thriving centers they once were. The drifters and the taggers started breaking down the doors and claiming their territory, and soon the area became pretty dangerous, by Parkville standards. Then, in the early 90s, young artists and musicians who lived near the university felt they were being priced off campus due to rising housing costs, so they started buying up the lots and buildings in the WD for next to nothing. Gentrification happened quickly, and suddenly Parkville had a new thriving arts community downtown. Warehouses became loft condominiums, coffee houses appeared on every corner, and bars and nightclubs sprang up to give the local residents some entertainment. All they needed now was a fancy health food store, and there was a rumor that one was on the way.
The Bongo Room was one of the early pioneers in the WD, just over one hundred years after the warehouses were built. A group of local musicians were looking for a performance space, and they found the perfect building. They made some inquiries, and it turned out they were able to buy it for a song. Literally. The former owner suggested a price that was more than fair, but the musicians weren’t able to pool as much money as they needed, so they threw a musical benefit for their own cause. The proceeds from the door were enough to cover the funds they lacked, and the Bongo Room was born.
The front room was long and narrow, with a bar on the right and a staircase on the left leading up to another floor that was used for offices, sound studios and living quarters. Beyond that, the back room was a performance space with hardwood floors, brick walls and a bandstand along the far wall. When the temperatures were really flying high in the summer, they would open the sliding emergency exit doors along the back wall to create a cross breeze, and occasionally the whistle of a single train running along that one remaining ghostly track would add a new layer of eerie music to the pounding beat within.
My friend Aisha was working the front door that night. Her real name was Amy, but she changed it in college because she said it sounded too white, and besides, who ever heard of a black girl named Amy? We’re all allowed to create our own identities, right?
“Hey, Aisha! You look great. You always do.” I gave her a hug.
“You too, sweetie,” she said. “You know, I always wondered why people don’t dress like every night is Friday night. The world would be a whole helluva lot prettier.” She snapped the fingers of her left hand. “Y’all can come in for free, by the way. I heard about all that nonsense they’re putting you through and I’m rootin’ for y’all.”
“We wouldn’t think of it,” I said, smiling. “Luke? Pay the woman. She’s handing out compliments. I’ll go get us some drinks.”
“Shawn and the rest of them are already inside,” she said, pointing towards the back. “Have fun, y’all!”
I heard the music from the next room. Shawn’s band wasn’t up yet, and I spotted the Scooby Gang at a round table opposite the bar. Tommy had his arm around Meredith and Kit and Shawn were obviously cracking each other up over something.
“Is there room for two more?” I asked, as we approached the table.
“Yay!” said Kit. “Love. Love. Love!” She jumped up from the table and gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Why don’t you do that when you see me?” asked Shawn.
“Derek doesn’t make me do dishes, baby.” We all laughed.
They scooted around the table and Luke pulled up an extra chair. Meredith looked at me like she was a bit nervous to speak and I cocked my head, quizzically.
“Derek, I need to apologize to you.” She was so sincere. Almost timid.
“What for?” I asked.
“Well, I didn’t know about Johnny Ray. That he’s your dad. Kit, either. We just loved his art and felt like he would be perfect for the Love All benefit, but if we had known…”
“Meredith, there’s no need for an apology.” I needed to put her at ease. “There’s no way you could have known. None of you had ever met the man. And honestly, you made the right choice. His art was perfect. He’s the one who pulled one over on you.”
“Duplicity. Mischief. There are a few more traits you share.” Luke winked at me.
“Watch it, Coach,” I warned him. “You never know what tricks I may have up my sleeve. Anyway, I’m glad Johnny was there. We’re trying to get to know each other now, and that wouldn’t have happened if y’all h
adn’t thrown that benefit. Cheers!”
Clinking bottles and glasses, all around.
“How’s business, Tommy?” said Luke, changing the subject. For a handsome man, he was not so at ease being the center of attention, and it seemed all anyone wanted to talk about lately was us. Tonight was supposed to be about taking a break from that.
“Pretty good. Can’t complain,” he said. Tommy’s the kind of guy who sees the good in every situation. “I’m actually doing some work at Amber’s place, out by the lake. I’m pretty sure she made some serious bank after that third divorce. She has me extending her deck and upgrading the hot tub. I can do a shitty job, if you want me to?” he joked.
“Nah, she worked hard for that money,” said Luke. “We all saw those husbands, right?”
“Let’s be honest. Any guy she chose after you was a downhill decision, babe,” I said.
“It’s show time, y’all,” said Shawn, rubbing his hands together. “I need to set up. Ready to get your groove on?”
“Hell, yeah!” said Kit and we picked up our drinks and pushed our way through to the back room, claiming the front of the stage. We were Shock the Monkey groupies, and we were ready to rock and roll!
An hour later we were soaked through with sweat and our faces hurt from grinning. I had screamed so many lyrics that my voice sounded like a mix between Lauren Bacall and James Earl Jones. The band always ended their set with a Tennessee favorite, updated to today’s sound. Tonight’s final song was a funky remix of The Tennessee Waltz, and we all waltzed and schmaltzed our way from one corner of that dance floor to another, stepping on toes and taking names like we owned the place. By the time it ended, I was truly exhausted, but it was worth every minute of fun. We certainly needed it.
“Take a break outside with me?” Luke asked.
“We’ll see y’all in a few minutes,” I said to our friends. “Grab a table? We’re just getting some fresh air.”
We stepped out back through the emergency exit doors, past the security guard. We went to high school with him, of course, but I couldn’t remember his name. He let us pass with just a nod. With two red plastic cups full of water to rehydrate us, we sat out on the fire escape overlooking the train tracks and quietly enjoyed the stillness of the night. The air was much cooler outside, and it felt so good to be free from the oppressive humidity on the dance floor.
“Why so serious, Coach?” I could see it on his face. But this had to happen, eventually. I try to coast through all the crappy parts of my life with humor, but all of this was new to Luke. He’d had a pretty carefree life before I showed up and brought all the drama. Now he was dealing with coming out, family squabbles, problems at school. He smiled through it all, but it had to take its toll, eventually.
“I’ve been thinking, about what you said earlier. Witness Protection.”
“Babe, I was kidding! We’re not moving to France. I could never eat all those carbs.”
“I know we’re not moving,” he said. “But be serious, just for a moment. What happens if we have to quit? Or if we get fired? What are we going to do? Coaching is who I am.”
“I don’t know,” I said, truthfully, shaking my head. “I hadn’t really thought that far. I’m kind of impulsive, you know? I just try and go with the flow. I’m Blanche DuBois, relying upon the kindness of strangers.”
He turned to look at me, eyes narrowing. “Tennessee Williams?”
“You’re learning, grasshopper.” I smiled, but he still wasn’t happy. “Seriously, Luke. I don’t know. We’ll have to face it when it happens. But we’ll face it together, okay? I have no doubt we’ll land on our feet.”
“But what if we don’t?” I’d never seen him like this. Unsure of himself. “I know I’m getting ahead of myself, but… we may want kids someday, Derek. If we want to be a family, we need to make choices that can support that, emotionally and financially.”
I held my breath for a second. I wasn’t ready for this.
“Luke, I…” I just looked at him, blankly. “We’ll have plenty of time to figure that out. Right now, I can barely take care of myself. Of us. I mean, I may want a dog someday, but that will mean I can’t run off whenever I want. I haven’t even considered kids. I have no clue what the future holds for us. I just know I want to be with you, but I can’t think too far ahead, you know?”
“You make me feel like anything is possible, you know that?” he said.
“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I kissed him softly, under the moonlight on a fire escape in the WD. The teenager in me was still alive, jumping up and down inside. But that conversation about kids would have to wait for another day.
“Now come on. Let’s head back inside before they think we ghosted,” I said.
He stood up, and then held out his hand to help me. We walked past the security guard again and made our way back to the front bar. The gang had commandeered a new, larger table by the front window, and Tammy and Scooter had joined them. That was a nice surprise.
“Well, lookee there, if it isn’t Parkville’s resident gay activists,” said Scooter, smiling wide and showing off a wad of chewing tobacco between his cheek and gum.
“Shut up, Scooter,” said Tammy, giving him a playful whack with her hand. “They’re my friends. Give ‘em a break, will ya?”
“Aw, hell, I’m just kidding. Luke and I played football together in high school. Shoot, if I’d known then what I know now, maybe I woulda given you more of a show.” He laughed.
“Trust me, Scooter,” said Luke, knowingly. “You weren’t my type and I wasn’t looking.”
“Aw, hell, I’m just givin’ y’all grief, you know that. I think it’s kinda stupid that the town is all freaked out over this. Who gives a rat’s ass? Y’all are two upstanding dudes, in my book. Y’all have my vote.” And he raised his beer bottle, in salute. That meant a lot, coming from a backwoods guy like Scooter.
“Besides, anyone with half a brain knows what this is really about. Them kids couldn’t give a flying Frisbee what y’all do in your bedroom. They’re just havin’ fun. Hell, remember those bomb threats we used to have in high school? Spring semester our senior year we musta had ‘bout ten of ‘em. Those were the best, weren’t they? We all got to leave early and we’d just head on down to the lake to party. Man, those were good times,” he said, reminiscing.
“Scooter!” I practically spit my beer out at him. “You’re a genius! I could kiss you!”
“What’d I say?”
“Babe, we can’t call in bomb threats. That’s a felony,” Luke said, concerned. “I’m not ready to go to prison for something like this.”
“No, not that!” I was so excited I could barely speak. “Luke, we gotta go. Now!”
Everyone was looking at me like I was crazy, but it all suddenly came together in my head. I reached across the table and laid a big, wet sloppy kiss on Scooter’s cheek. His face turned redder than a Bama fan on game day, and Tammy about busted a gut she was laughing so hard. I grabbed Luke’s hand and yanked him up.
“Hurry up! Let’s go!” I practically shrieked. “We have calls to make.”
13
THE FIRE WENT WILD
I could barely sleep Thursday night, my head was spinning with all the what ifs. I was pretty sure we had planned for every possible outcome, but if we had set the dominos up correctly, there was really only one way they could fall.
We decided to head to work together in Luke’s car, defiantly. It was important to really plant our feet firmly today if everything was going to go according to plan. He parked the Jeep in the teachers’ lot and we walked right past the CCCP protesters, holding hands. It was a simple message, and this gesture was enough to really set them on fire.
The Love All crowd cheered us on as we approached them. We shook their hands and thanked them for their efforts. We had placed plenty of calls the night before and rallied the troops, and our side was visibly larger today than the CCCP. Saul and Rachel were there, most o
f the staff from the Bongo Room and the Tater Tot, and Peaches brought out the whole crew from Chesty Cheese in their finest Daisy Dukes and bikini tops. If we were going to have reporters show up, we wanted them to interview as many people as possible from our side, and let’s face it, sex sells.
Luke and I walked up to the front doors of the school and turned to face the crowd, raising our hands together in unity, as if we were a political couple entering the White House. In a way, this was a political gamble. We were really rolling the dice, though. One well-placed chip could pay off, but an unlucky hand could end our careers altogether. Sometimes you have to bet it all to win big.
We entered the school and he flashed that winning grin. “Break a leg, Mr. Walter,” he said.
“Give ‘em hell, Coach.”
I walked by the first floor office and gave Miss Mabel a nod through the glass wall. She hadn’t said much to me throughout this whole ordeal, but I could feel her eyes on me more than usual, lately. She was starting to look up more. I wondered if she thought I was brave or foolish, considering her own choices in life. It’s a different world, Miss Mabel. Not only is there no need to stay closeted, but truthfully, no one cares anymore. Your friends will stand by you, and the rest are free to make their own choices, but we can all get along fine if we just try. Our politics don’t need to agree 100% for us to remain friends. We just need to stand up for fairness and equal treatment. But without people like Miss Mabel, Aunt Janey and Uncle Barry, I wouldn’t have the courage to be who I am today. I reminded myself to ask her out to lunch when this is all over. I’m sure she has some great stories to tell, if she’s willing.
The world had, indeed, changed a lot since Bellman and Miss Mabel came to work at Parkville High. Schools used to be a place of education, halls were filled with students eager to learn their history, acquire math skills, pick up foreign languages, improve their social skills and become physically fit. Somewhere along the way that changed. Social media, selfies, the twenty-four hour news cycle and celebrities who were simply famous for being famous contributed to a new, evolving atmosphere. Sure, some students were still there to learn. Knowledge is power, after all. But for the most part, school became a holding tank, and teachers began to feel more like wardens and less like educators.
The Fire Went Wild (Home is a Fire Book 2) Page 11
