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Blue Jay

Page 16

by A Zukowski


  neck. “Personality transplant. They perform those

  on queers-in-need. Where’s Ali?” She explains to

  Alex, “Liam’s boyfriend. They’re too sickly sweet for

  my liking.”

  “You’re just jealous. His friend’s on holiday, so

  he’s pet-sitting. They have two dogs and a cat. I

  can’t say I’m much of an animal person, so I was

  going to do my assignment —”

  Liam is cut short when the lights dim and canned

  drum rolls announce the appearance of tonight’s

  drag act.

  “Woohoo!” Chris moves off from clinging onto

  Alex to clap her hands, her laughter lighting up her

  face once more.

  The drag artist who comes on stage is beautiful

  and way more femme than Chris. She has a long

  blonde wig and colourful stage make-up. True to

  her stage name, her padded-out body curves inside

  the white leather corset. A black miniskirt, garter

  and tights, and a pair of glittery six-inch silver

  platform boots complete her outfit.

  Glitter. Glitter. Glitter.

  She puts her thumb and forefinger in her mouth

  and whistles loudly, so the room hushes

  immediately.

  “Good evening, ladies and ladies!” She has a voice

  that betrays a hint of harshness, but Alex thinks

  she’d definitely pass for a woman if the make-up

  wasn’t quite as stage-dramatic. Liam smiles at

  Victoria.

  The crowd cheers her on and a few of them

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  whistle back. Chris glances at Alex sidelong and

  winks. Alex watches the performer with much

  curiosity.

  “Are you ready for your compère?”

  The audience screams ‘yes’, while Victoria further

  eggs them on by shouting back.

  After more banter, she introduces herself, “I am

  your one and only Victoria L-E-A-T-H-E-R.”

  She breaks into a perfect rendition of an eighties

  hit, her voice strong and sultry. The next twenty

  minutes pass in much the same way and, drag or

  not, Victoria is a talented performer. She does not

  lip-sync like RuPaul’s contestants, and she can hold

  a tune better than most pop idols. Her jokes are

  funny, too, without being too cheesy or vulgar.

  “Now, before I sing my last number, I must say

  hello to my dear friend.” Victoria pouts and points

  her long finger with the expertly painted nail at

  Chris.

  Chris mutters under her breath, “Oh, fuck! This is

  the last time I’m coming to see the bastard.”

  Alex looks between the drag queen and Chris, all

  eyes in the crowded room on the latter. Instead of

  feeling uncomfortable, Alex has forgotten about the

  pressure and enjoys the moment.

  “Come on stage, my little Chrissie. I’m not coming

  down in my platform shoes to drag you up here.”

  She laughs and claps her hands together. The

  audience follows her lead and begins to chant,

  “Chrissie! Chrissie! Chrissie!” Liam joins in.

  “And that’s not my fucking name.” Chris shakes

  her head, but she can’t ignore the calling. She kisses

  Alex and threads through the throng of people to

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  reach the stage. She and Victoria hug and kiss. On

  the lips. The crowd cheer even louder. Alex can’t

  help but smile at the playfulness. Chris is blushing,

  bringing crimson to her pale cheeks.

  “Now, boys and girls. Is Chrissie hot or not?”

  Victoria announces, her arm around Chris’s

  shoulders. The answer is, again, a unanimous ‘yes’.

  Victoria nods. “Let me tell you. This is her natural

  self.” She presents Chris to the crowd with a

  flourish. “It takes me two fucking hours to

  transform my ugly mug to look like this, people.”

  She points to her face and down her body.

  The revellers respond with a collective sigh and

  then laugh. Chris’s face is now scarlet.

  “My darling, you’ve dragged along a fine

  gentleman to see my act tonight. I am absolutely

  honoured, so I’m going to dedicate this final song to

  you.” She kisses Chris again and then directs her

  eyes to Alex and winks; Alex grins even wider.

  Before Chris leaves the stage, Victoria leans in

  and whispers, though the microphone picks it up,

  “Thanks for coming, my old pal. I’ll see you in a

  mo.”

  Chris smiles, showing her dimples, as Victoria

  launches into a rendition of The Kinks’ ‘Lola’ . Chris

  makes her way back to a smiling Alex as Victoria

  starts to sing about the fluidity between boys and

  girls. All eyes are on Chris as she negotiates the

  packed room of people to come back to him.

  Alex clips Chris’s shoulder, dips his head and

  shouts over the music, “Take it you know her?”

  Chris laughs. “Obviously! Him. Victor. He’s one of

  the very few friends I made when I was an underage

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  actor.”

  Liam sidles up to them. “You’re a star, Chris. And

  you’re a lucky man, Alex.” Heat rises on Chris’s

  cheeks again while Liam smirks at her unguarded

  embarrassment.

  Once the set has ended, Victoria/Victor comes

  over to have a drink with them after he reverts to

  his cis male self.

  ~~~

  Chris and Alex continue their intimate whispers

  in bed that night. “Was it okay at the club? There

  were a lot of people.” She caresses Alex’s broad

  chest.

  “Yeah. It was fun. Victoria’s kinda cool.” Alex

  chuckles. He hadn’t known he had a thing for drag

  performance before meeting Chris and her band of

  queer friends.

  “Victor’s only a part-time drag act. His parents

  aren’t like my mum. They put him through proper

  schooling. He’s a computer programmer.”

  “Wow! No, I wouldn’t have guessed it.”

  “I know, right? He’s like a geeky drag!” Chris

  laughs. “The two friends I was speaking to are

  trans.”

  Alex comments. “I’m glad you don’t want to cut

  off your dick.”

  Chris huffs.

  “Sorry to be selfish. I’ve…I think about how you

  might feel inside me.” Alex wrings his hands,

  remembering the few erotic dreams he’s had about

  Chris lately.

  “What? Really? You’ve not done it with someone

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  with a penis, right?” Her chuckles sound like bells.

  “No. And I don’t mean I won’t want to hammer

  into you.” Alex laughs. “I’m kind of curious.”

  “Okay. Alex Whale is bottoming-curious. Very

  interesting.” Chris continues to giggle, while Alex

  encircles her in his embrace.

  He pulls her close, their bodies pressed together

  so he can feel her erection, and plants kisses on her

  smooth skin that smells sweet and spicy.

  “Jerk off for me,” he requests gently.

  Chris’s heart races so hard Alex can feel it. She

  reaches out
to switch on the small lamp and

  retrieves a bottle of lubricant. Alex pulls down her

  knickers to reveal her erection. Like the rest of her,

  it’s perfectly proportioned and proud. She opens the

  top and drizzles the clear gel on her long fingers,

  massaging and letting the liquid cool her palms.

  Alex absorbs the scene as though it’s a classical

  tableau of sexual pleasure painted in muted hues.

  Her eyes lift to meet his. Blue and ochre. Alex ruts

  against her, his big hand covering her smaller fist as

  it rubs and pulls. Chris’s head rests against Alex’s

  wide shoulder. She bites her lip and she groans,

  sounding incoherent with the sensations. Her

  moans become more desperate. Their entwined

  hands quicken, and Chris whimpers as she comes.

  Her seed spills on Alex’s hand and sprinkles down

  his thigh.

  Later, Alex gazes at Chris’s soft face, the light pink

  in her cheeks as she sleeps, and the long lashes

  under her closed eyes. She seems so young then.

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  CHAPTER 9

  KISS

  THE FIRST TIME it happens, Alex’s arm jerks away,

  knocking Chris sideways. All dazed and confused

  and half-awake from his sleep, Chris lifts himself

  back up the best he can.

  “Alex?”

  He’s turned into a nocturnal keening animal.

  “Eeeh…qui…”

  “Alex?” Chris pushes Alex’s arm. “Sweetheart,

  wake up.”

  “Ahh…” His arm flies and hits Chris in the face.

  Shit! That’ll cause a bruise or a black eye.

  “Alex, wake up!” Chris uses more force and

  shakes him.

  Alex struggles against an unknown threat, a

  source of terror. His eyes open wide, but he’s not

  seeing. Then, he bolts up, staring into space. When

  he comes to, he’s sweating and breathing hard in a

  fit of hyperventilation.

  “Alex, it’s a nightmare. It’s okay.” Chris wipes the

  sweat from Alex’s forehead.

  Alex whispers, “It’s not okay. Not okay.” He hisses

  as though he’s been running, and he’s trembling.

  Chris hugs him.

  “Do you want to talk about it, sweetie?” he asks

  softly.

  Alex swallows and takes a sip of water from the

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  glass Chris keeps by the bed. “Not much to tell. I

  have these nightmares. They’re vivid, as if I’m

  reliving the accident again and again.” He wipes his

  hand over his face, drying the rest of the sweat. “I’m

  hit by the full force of the crash. Sam’s bloody and

  dying in my arms. I scream and scream until there’s

  no more. It’s always the same — an extreme impact

  pushing me back to square one. I can’t breathe, as

  though my lungs are airless.”

  “It must be frightening.”

  Alex stares at Chris; the magnitude of horror that

  has been haunting him for five years is imprinted on

  Alex’s face.

  “The thought of a life in terror…reliving the scene.

  Tonight… It was your face instead of Sam’s.”

  “It’s only a nightmare. I’m here. Safe.”

  A single tear tumbles down Alex’s cheek.

  ~~~

  Six in the morning. Alex finds a taped note on the

  countertop in the kitchenette— Eat me! —complete

  with a smiley face. Chris’s writing looks childlike;

  the lines of the letters zigzag across the small piece

  of paper. Some days, Alex imagines he has stumbled

  into a dream spun by Chris, and he can’t help but

  grin at the invitation. The dish contains the pasta

  bake Chris knows he likes. He glances at the door to

  Chris’s room and pictures him in bed, asleep. With

  the beam still on his face, Alex puts the food in the

  microwave to warm up, tapping his forefinger on

  the worktop to pass the time as he waits. When the

  machine pings, he takes the hot plate and a fork to

  the table.

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  In the corner of the lounge sits an old stereo. In

  purple plastic casing, it must have belonged to a kid

  once, but one of the ex-inmates has left it. That’s

  how Alex has come to think of his accommodation—

  a step away from prison, with more colourful

  inhabitants.

  Since none of them own CDs anymore, they rarely

  use the stereo, but Alex turns the radio on low as

  background noise to keep him company while he

  eats. It’s tuned to an unknown station, playing a

  song that sounds vaguely familiar. Alex recognises

  the singer’s voice—a hoarse, low growl, as if he

  smokes forty cigarettes a day. Haunting but

  beautiful.

  He sings the story of a late-night encounter in a

  café, telling himself not to fall in love with the lonely

  woman.

  Does falling in love make him blue?

  Alex’s hands still. He tries to focus on his very late

  supper, but he can’t. The realisation he’s falling for

  Chris is elating and absolutely terrifying at the same

  time.

  Since the accident, the pills and the frequent dark

  episodes, his heart had been still until he met Chris.

  Alex closes his eyes, swayed by the song, and

  imagines the soft curves of Chris’s body. Chris has

  made him less blue. Alex takes the food back to the

  kitchen and puts it away. He has a quick shower and

  brushes his teeth, remembering how Chris warns

  him about his stinky breath if he doesn’t.

  Alex tries Chris’s door and finds it unlocked like

  always, as though it is Chris’s open invitation, with

  the generous promise of intimacy brought by his

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  smiles and touches.

  Alex can make out the dark shape of Chris in bed,

  and the tenderness he feels makes him shudder. He

  watches Chris for a few moments. He is breathing

  evenly, his mouth slightly open. Alex’s fingers itch

  to caress the silky warmth of Chris’s face. Alex

  climbs over the other side of the bed and slips in

  under the cover as quietly as he can.

  Chris shifts a little. “Hmm.”

  “Thank you,” Alex whispers, not wanting to wake

  Chris, assuming he has gone to bed late. The two of

  them are often up all night because of their work or

  insomnia. That’s why Alex finds his security job dull

  but acceptable. He is usually awake in the middle of

  the night anyway; he might as well work through

  the small hours.

  Chris seems to be able to work or sleep at any

  time of the day. He often whispers ‘good night’ to

  Alex and falls asleep within seconds like an

  overtired child. Alex smiles into the dusk about that.

  Alex shifts close to Chris’s body heat, and he can

  make out the smooth skin on his back and

  shoulders. Alex’s cock has gone hard again. All he

  can think about is how he wants to pin Chris down

  and fuck him fast.

  How do you fuck someone with a penis?

  As if Chris can hear Alex’s thoughts, h
e turns to

  face him. His eyes are still closed, but he raises his

  hand to touch Alex’s stubble.

  “Hey, you’re back.”

  Alex takes hold of Chris’s smaller hand and kisses

  it. Chris smiles and opens his eyes.

  Alex’s kisses turn to Chris’s hairline and face. “I

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  want you.”

  Chris chuckles. “Where’s that come from?”

  “My dick. I wish you wouldn’t laugh at me.” But

  there’s amusement in Alex’s voice, too, as his lips

  trail down to Chris’s knuckle.

  “Hmm. Unless you make your intention clear, I’m

  not going to fuck you.”

  Alex laughs. “You want me to promise I’ll marry

  you first? Or take care of you when I knock you up?”

  “No, but I don’t want to give myself away too

  easily.” Chris pouts. “I’ve already told you.”

  Alex can’t stop his giggles. “If you say so.” He

  drags his fingertip over Chris’s smooth lips. With

  lightness still in his words, he asks, “Do you not kiss

  either?”

  It’s Chris’s turn to chuckle, but the chuckle soon

  morphs into a grimace. “Oh, fuck off. I hate that

  stupid film. Of course I kiss—”

  Alex’s mouth claims Chris’s, reluctant at first as if

  the permission isn’t enough. Their mouths are

  tender and light on each other, but soon that

  tentative exploration melts away. Alex pushes his

  tongue into Chris’s mouth so he can lick Chris’s full

  lips—the first thing Alex noticed about him all those

  weeks ago when they danced on the stairs. He’s lost

  count of the times he’s wondered what they’d taste

  like.

  Chris smells like nectar and sweet vanilla, and

  Alex can’t get enough of him. Chris bites Alex’s lips

  while teasing him with his tongue. Alex

  reciprocates, their tongues swirling, arousing. Alex’s

  hand cups the back of Chris’s head, steadying him

  as though they’re in another tango. There’s no

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  music, but the air between them is thick with their

  heavy, rhythmic breaths.

  Time stands still when the imaginary dance ends,

  but Alex is not ready to let go. He pulls Chris closer,

  and his lips are on Chris’s once again, kissing him

  with passion and impatience. Alex’s vision turns

  white; his breath catches. All he is aware of is

  Chris’s heat, the scent that he’s come to associate

  with him.

  The ying to his yang. The two become the way.

  “I want you so much,” Alex murmurs, betraying

 

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