by TJ Klune
The tape was strategically placed around her entire body. She did have on a flesh-colored leotard, but it was so close to her actual skin color that it was barely noticeable. The tape wrapped around her legs and arms and chest. Her wig was a black bob cut sharply around her face. Her makeup was smoky and dark. She looked amazing.
But then I was distracted by the man sitting in the folding chair on the stage behind her.
It was Darren Mayne, the Homo Jock King.
He wore leather pants and his chest harness. He was scowling, so at least that was normal.
The music began to play, something about sweat and writhing and fucking, and I was shocked when Helena began to just use Darren like a prop. He’d never been part of her show before. For all that the Homo Jock King was, he didn’t necessarily like being the center of attention. Sandy had tried to get him on stage following the auction at Jack It, where he had made a terrible queen, but he’d refused.
He had apparently given in now, though.
And what made it even more astonishing was that it seemed to be choreographed. Helena straddled his lap, looking over her shoulder as she lip-synced into the microphone. When the music hit another sharp beat, Darren’s hands came up to her waist as she fell backward, and he held her in place as she moved from side to side, hair bouncing around her face. Her hips gyrated against him as he pulled her up, a large hand spreading over her back, holding her against his chest. She sang down to him, running a long fingernail over his bottom lip.
A moment later she was up off his lap, prowling around him, her hands on his chest and stomach and shoulders. He was starting to glisten with sweat, and if I didn’t know they were already together, I would have been convinced I was witnessing the elusive mating dance of the dragitus queenlia. I wondered if Darren knew that after they had mated, she would devour him whole.
I thought he probably did. And that he didn’t have a problem with that.
“Wow,” Vince said. “I do not want to see this happening to my brother.”
Yeah, I could almost see his point. I was going to have to have a few words with Sandy about how giving his friends erections in public was not okay.
Fortunately, the song was over quickly. It ended when Helena gripped the sides of Darren’s face and mauled him on stage. The crowd bellowed their appreciation, and Darren looked dazed when Helena pulled away, his lips smeared with her black lipstick.
Helena was panting as she turned to face the bar. She grinned and winked at our table. “Hello,” she breathed into the microphone. “I must apologize. I didn’t see you all standing there. I hope you don’t mind that little display.”
They absolutely did not seem to mind.
“Good,” she said. “I sometimes forget myself when I have such a pretty little plaything.” She yelped when Darren reached forward and smacked her ass. She glared at him, and I knew that hadn’t been choreographed.
She must have been fine with it, however, because Darren was allowed to keep his hand. “Thank you, boo,” she said to him, her voice echoing around the bar. “I do love you so.” Darren stood, and she reached over to wipe the smudge of lipstick off his face. I grimaced when Darren sucked her finger into his mouth, cheeks hollowing. She pulled it out with an audible wet pop that was going to haunt my dreams. He arched an eyebrow at her as the crowd roared. She covered the mic and whispered something to him. His expression softened in a way I wouldn’t have expected when I’d first met him. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek before grabbing the chair and walking off stage.
“Goodbye,” Helena said. “How does the old expression go? I love to see him go, but it’s even better when I get to see him coming.” She turned back toward the crowd, a nasty curl to her lips. “And he comes a lot.”
“Gross,” Vince moaned, covering his face with his hands.
“It must run in the family,” Paul muttered, and we all turned to stare at him. He shrugged. “What? I’m just saying.”
“It’s good to be back at the Build-a-Bear Sweat Shop,” Helena said. “If I wasn’t already tied down to that lovely hunk of meat, I’m sure I could find someone else here more than willing to… tie me down.”
Many hands went into the air.
“I volunteer as tribute!” a burly man yelled.
“Hmm,” Helena said. “I’m sure you do. But alas, this queen has already found her king. And now for something I never thought I’d say: enough about me. We’re here for a very specific reason. To crown the new Mr. Leatherman for Tucson. I’m told it’s a high honor and one not to be taken lightly. And what better person to help bestow this honor than a queen?”
She curtsied so low, I thought she was about to do the splits.
“However, I cannot do this alone,” she said as she stood back up. “If only there was a man who would be able to help me with this task. A man unlike any other. A man who currently holds the title of Mr. Leatherman. Is there such a man to be found here?”
“There is,” another voice said, and everyone in the bar tilted their heads back and howled.
My skin felt like it was arcing with electricity.
“I suspected as much,” Helena said, and she looked right at me. “Perhaps you would care to join me on stage? Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages (though that had better not be the case), I give you your current Mr. Leatherman… Jeremy Olsen!”
He stepped out of the shadows.
I could barely breathe.
What he was wearing wasn’t inherently sexual; leather didn’t always have to be about sex, though it could play a part. It was almost like drag in that way.
But that didn’t stop my brain from making it sexual. Gone was my former professor, the man who would get excited with what he was teaching on any given day, pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly as he got wound up. Gone was my boss, the man who hated being stuck in his office (even when he needed to be) and who would instead be out in the front with everyone else, smiling brightly, bopping along like an awkward turtle with whatever music was playing.
This man had a perfectly trimmed beard and a leather cap not dissimilar from Charlie’s, though the links on the chain across the front were fatter. This man wore a blue leather dress shirt (what the hell?) with pockets on either side of his chest, the buttons mostly covered by a long black leather tie. A black belt with a thick buckle was wrapped around his waist through the loops of his leather pants. He even wore black gloves, for fuck’s sakes.
And wrapped around his chest and shoulders was a thick, heavy sash made of leather (of course; I almost wanted to bring Tyson here just to see his brain explode) that proclaimed him to be MR. LEATHERMAN TUCSON.
And he was strutting like Charlie had when we first got into the bar. As the men and a few women in the bar cheered for him, he moved like a goddamn animal in the middle of a hunt. It wasn’t like Helena slinking around. This was heavy and harsh, his boots thudding on the stage, his shoulders squared, his lips almost in a sneer. He wasn’t a big man, not like Vince and Darren, but he almost looked like he was, giving off the aura of someone who liked how that glove sounded when it smacked against bare skin and—
Nope. Not even going to go there.
“Still want to run away with me?” I heard Charlie ask through the haze.
“What?” I said stupidly.
“That’s what I thought.”
I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, but it seemed distant and unimportant. I watched as Jeremy raised his gloved hands into the air. The people in the audience screamed their approval.
A man crept toward the stage, staying out of the spotlight. He handed a second mic to Helena. She winked at him before stepping back, letting Jeremy move from one side of the stage to the other. The sound from the crowd was deafening.
And then I was blocked from seeing what was happening by a large man who was demanding that I move over so he could sit down.
I blinked stupidly up at the stranger.
“Yeah, Sandy w
as sure that was going to be your reaction,” he said, sounding annoyed. “I hate it when he’s right.”
I started to turn to Charlie to tell him to use his crime boss powers to have this random murdered and buried in the desert for having the audacity to approach the table, when a thin ray of light broke through the clouds in my head. “Darren?”
Darren sighed. “You’re so pathetic. I don’t know why you just don’t fuck it out of your system. This is ridiculous.”
I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. And when I still didn’t move (I wasn’t sure how to make my legs do anything at the moment), he rolled his eyes, went to the other side of the booth, and sat down next to Paul.
By the time I could see the stage again, Jeremy and Helena were standing side by side. They each held a mic. Helena was pressed against him, as she was wont to do with any remotely attractive man in her immediate vicinity. I wondered if killing her would be like slaughtering a chicken. A lot of squawking and feathers going everywhere.
Helena laid her head on his shoulder as she brought the mic to her lips. “If I didn’t already have a ball and chain firmly attached, the things I would do to you.” She rubbed a hand over his chest and down to his stomach, the tips of her fingers pressed against his belt buckle.
“Sit down,” I heard Charlie hiss.
I turned to look at him, wondering who the hell he was talking to, when I saw he was talking to me. For some reason, I was now standing next to the booth, my hands curled into fists.
“What just happened?” I asked, eyes wide.
Darren tilted his head toward the ceiling. “Jesus fucking Christ. Please tell me I wasn’t like this.”
“Hate to say it, bro, but you were,” Vince said. “It was cute.” He frowned. “Well, the parts where you weren’t being an absolute dick about it.”
“Which was most of the time,” Paul said.
Darren glared at him. “I liked it more when you were scared of me.”
Paul patted his hand. “Yeah, those days are long gone, my friend. Sandy told me you brought him flowers a few weeks ago.”
Darren crossed his arms and looked grumpy. “Only because they were his favorite.”
I managed to sit back down of my own volition. Charlie wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. It probably looked sweet from the outside, but we all knew it was to keep me from committing a felony. I was already planning my defense. I would say I was in a fugue state and that I didn’t remember what happened. I would sell the shit out of it, and when I was found innocent, I would get my own Lifetime movie.
Helena Handbasket had peeled herself off Jeremy, and I told myself that it was because she knew I’d kick her ass. I almost believed it too, which certainly helped. And no, it wasn’t because I was filled with any feelings toward the object of her momentary affections, but because I wanted to make sure Jeremy was the center of attention, given that he looked really awesome in the spotlight, especially the area just underneath the belt buckle, which seemed to have a healthy bulge going on.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “I’m being creepy again.”
“Thank you, Helena,” Jeremy said, and he almost sounded like the man I’d last seen on Friday. Maybe there was a harder edge to his voice, and maybe it was a little deeper, but it was almost the same. “I appreciate you being here tonight.”
“Anything for you,” Helena said. “And I mean anything.”
“Bitch,” I muttered. “You best be backing off before I make a mess of your face.”
“What was that?” Charlie asked me, hand digging into my arm.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“And thanks go out to all of you,” Jeremy said, looking out at the crowd. “This last year I’ve spent as Mr. Leatherman has been one of the best of my life. This community has always welcomed me warmly, but I’ve met more of you in the last twelve months than in any of the years before, and I truly appreciate the support I’ve been given. It’s been a remarkable time for me and one I won’t soon forget.”
Everyone cheered.
The hard look on his face melted, and he grinned. It was the same smile I’d gotten used to, and my heart stumbled in my chest. “There is something wonderful about all of us being able to come together like this. Here it doesn’t matter what the color of your skin is or the shape you come in. It doesn’t matter if you’re an old daddy or someone just starting out. As long as you respect the community and all we stand for and show kindness, then you’re welcome here. We all have to start somewhere.” He glanced in our direction, and I swore our gazes locked. “And even if you’re just a tourist, someone who has never thought about coming here but did so anyway tonight to support me, I want you to know I see you. And I couldn’t be happier that you’re here.”
His smile softened. And for a brief moment, it was like we were the only two in the bar.
He looked away first. “But enough of that. We’re here tonight to designate a new Mr. Leatherman. Over the past couple of weeks, they’ve set out to prove themselves. And while every single one of them is worthy of the title, there can only be one. So let’s get on with it, shall we?”
IT WASN’T unlike a beauty pageant. There was some kind of complicated scoring system that Charlie tried to explain to us, but I could barely focus on his words, much less understand the intricacies of deciding a new Mr. Leatherman.
There were six men in the running, and I was pleasantly surprised when the title went to a black man who was bigger than Darren. Even better was how he had to wipe the tears from his eyes while still being stern and growly. People applauded loudly along with the other men on the stage. I thought Jeremy was going to hand over his sash, but Charlie said he got to keep it. One had been made especially for the new Mr. Leatherman, and he bowed his head to allow Jeremy to slide it over and onto his shoulder. Jeremy and Helena took a step back to give him the stage.
And just like that, it was over.
The crowd rushed forward, and they were surrounded almost immediately, people congratulating the new winner and shaking Jeremy’s hand.
Darren stood. “I should go see if Helena needs to be rescued.”
“Or to make sure a big bear doesn’t sling her over his shoulder and run away with her,” Paul said.
If Darren moved a little quicker after that, well, that was his business.
(And ours, because we needed to give him so much crap.)
I stood when Charlie motioned he wanted to get out so he could congratulate the winner. I stood and let him out. He kissed the side of my head and muttered that he’d be back later before he walked toward the stage. As before, the crowd parted for him as he barely acknowledged them.
“Did we know that Charlie was so hard-core?” I asked Paul and Vince as I sat back down in the booth. Vince pulled me over to him and slung an arm over my shoulder and the other over Paul’s.
“To us?” Paul asked. “Sure. To everyone else? I don’t think so. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”
“He’s never invited us to come here,” Vince said.
“But we never offered either,” I pointed out. “Not really. Helena performed that one time, but why haven’t we ever come here with him?”
Paul frowned. “It’s shitty of us, right?”
I sighed. “Yeah. I mean, most people at Jack It know who he is, but it’s not like this. I think he knows we have a lot going on, but….”
“But that shouldn’t be an excuse,” Vince said slowly. “None of this is forever. We need to make the most of all of it and each of us while we still can.” He grinned. “I read that in a fortune cookie.”
“Of course you did,” Paul muttered. “But I get what you’re saying. We should—”
A man appeared at the table. He, like many of the men in the bar, looked intimidating as all fuck. His beard went down to his chest and was shot with gray. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “I wanted to see if I could buy you a drink.”
Vince shrugged. “That’s
nice of you, but I’ve got one, thanks.”
“I was talking to your friend,” the man said, nodding at Paul.
Paul looked over his shoulder at the wall, as if there would be someone standing directly behind him. “Me?”
“Yeah,” the man said, putting his hands flat on the table as he leaned forward. “Saw you earlier. Wanted to get to know you better. If you know what I mean.”
“Oh,” Paul squeaked. “Um. No? Thank you, but no. I’m good.”
The man looked startled. “Really?”
“Really,” Paul said as Vince’s smile began to fade. “I’m good. That was nice of you, though.”
The man looked confused for a moment before shaking his head. “I’ll be around if you change your mind. Boy like you looks like he could use a proper education.”
“I always hated school,” Paul told him.
The man looked like he was going to say something else before he turned and left.
“That was weird,” Paul said. “Why do you think he—?”
Another man appeared at the table. He was the one I’d seen earlier, the Asian guy with the mask covering the bottom half of his face. He sat down in the booth beside Paul like he belonged there. “Hey,” he said, voice slightly muffled. “Can I get you a drink? You’re looking a little thirsty.”
“What the fuck,” Paul whispered.
“He’s got one,” Vince said, starting to frown. “It’s sitting right in front of him.”
Our new friend ignored him. “I like your jacket.” And as if to show Paul just how much he liked it, he reached out and rubbed a hand against Paul’s bare chest. “It would look even better on my floor.”
“Whoa,” I breathed. “Dude, does that ever work on anyone?”
The man glanced at me. “I’m about to find out.”
“It doesn’t!” Paul exclaimed. “It doesn’t work at all!”
“You sure?”
“So sure! I’ve never been surer about anything in my life!”
