Divas Las Vegas (9 page)

THE NEXT MORNING, WE AWOKE BRIGHT AND EARLY TO THE
fresh scent of chlorine and a somewhat loud knocking on
our door.

"Come back in an hour, please," Justin shouted from
his bed.

But again there was a knocking.

"In. An. Hour," he annunciated.

And there it was again. This time I jumped out of bed
and poked my head out the door to see what the hubbub
was about. I was shocked to find Marvin standing there, an
enormous bouquet of roses in his hand, and a please forgive
me look on his adorable face. He started talking before I
could say anything.

"Look, I know I was an asshole last night. I swear that's
not like me at all. I've had relatives killed in Israel and I get
kind of touchy when I'm around Arabs."

"By touchy you mean punchy and kicky and slappy and
yelly, right?"

"Something like that, yes. Please, please, please forgive me. If you give me another chance I'll do anything you ask.
Anything." He handed me the flowers, and then produced
a mischievous grin that I assumed was to suggest that
"anything" meant anything sexual. And I, of course, was
all for that.

"Let him in," shouted Justin from his bed.

"Please, do come in," I said, and ushered him into our
little fishbowl.

"Wow, what is that smell?" he asked, waving his hand
in front of his face.

We both pointed out the window.

"Nice," he said, and plopped down on my bed. Damn,
he looked good sitting there. I was still hornier than hell
from the previous night's shenanigans, needless to say.

"We forgive you," Justin said, groggily.

"We do?" I asked, surprised that Justin was a.) answering
for the both of us and b.) actually forgiving him. That was
rare. Justin held grudges. Big ones. And the only reason he
ever forgave anyone was-

"Yes, we do," he continued. "Under one circumstance.
Actually, make that two. The first one being: never wake us
up, and by us, I mean me, before ten o'clock."

"Can do," he agreed, nodding his head and stroking my
hand. Hell, I had already forgiven him. You should've seen
the flower arrangement.

"And number two," Justin said, "we need your help on
a little sche- er, project we're working on." Ah, in all the
excitement of a handsome gentleman caller at my door, I
had completely forgotten about our need for Marvin's
connections.

"Me? You need my help? But what can I do for you two?"
he asked, looking to me for the answer.

"Well, oddly enough, and not to seem manipulative or
calculating or anything, and you know I already like you
and all-"

"Oh, for goodness sake, just ask him, damn it," Justin
interrupted.

"Okay, fine, I saw this vase on Antiques Roadshow; it
belonged to my dead grandmother; I want it back for my
mother so she'll be happy; and the people at the show won't
help me find the woman who has that vase in her possession-oh, and she might be here in Vegas; and you work for
PBS; and-" I gulped for a breath and pointed to Marvin to
indicate that he, in fact, was the "and."

"Ah, well, it is a small world, isn't it?" he said, nodding
his head.

"Small and getting smaller," Justin offered. "So what'll
it be? Do we forgive you or not?"

I sat there and waited, not wanting to pressure him, but
still praying that he'd help so that I could get the vase back
and have sex with him. (In no particular order.) And that's
when the phone rang.

"Now what?" Justin sighed, irately.

"I'll get it," I said, and did. Guess who it was?

"Good morning, sexy." Yep, it was Chris. Damn, when
it rains, it pours, don't it?

"Oh, hi, Chris."

"Did I wake you?"

"Um, no, we were just sitting here... Sitting here..."
Marvin was staring at me, making me quite nervous.

"Yes, you woke us," Justin shouted from his bed.

"No, no, we were already awake. What's up?"

"Just wondering if you'd like to get together tomorrow
night. I don't have to work and I thought we could play."

Man, that was a toughie. I had one man in my bed and
another one on the phone. Should I say yes? Should I say
no? They were both adorable. I knew what Justin would say.
Actually, he'd probably invite the one on the phone to join the
two in the bed. But I hated to use these seemingly nice men
that way. (Did I mention that they were both adorable?) "Sure, Chris, that sounds great. Why don't you come
over here at, say, seven? Okay?"

I was trying not to sound too excited. Didn't want to
make Marvin suspicious. Justin gazed over from his side of
the bed, knowing what I had just agreed to, and gave me
that I've taught you well, Luke, now use the force wisely
look. The force, unfortunately, was weak in me. Justin
was hogging it all. Still, now that Marvin was helping us,
my stay in Vegas should've been dramatically cut short, so
maybe I could get away with stringing two men along. Gay
men have been doing that for eons. Genetically, I should
have been amply prepared. Anyway, I figured, if one didn't
work out, I could use the other for backup. A spare, so to
speak.

"My cousin," I explained to Marvin when I hung up the
phone. "He lives in Vegas. Haven't seen him in a while, and
we're going to get together tomorrow night." That sounded
good. Who could argue with that? Maybe this would work
out after all.

"That's nice. Maybe we could all go out together, then,"
Marvin suggested. (Uh-oh.)

"No, I don't-"

"Hey, we still need that answer," Justin said, coming to
the rescue. "Will you help us?"

Again with the pause. "I'll see what I can do. I do actually know a few people who work on that show; maybe they
can help. No promises, but I'll try. Now am I forgiven?"

I looked at him, then at the flowers, then over to Justin.
"Sure, why not?"

"Hallelujah," Justin shouted.

"Hallelujah," Marvin echoed. "Now I have to go to that
convention. I'll come pick you up at six and then we can go
do dinner, okay?"

Justin said, "How about seven? I prefer a late din-din."

"I think he meant just me and him," I pointed out, and Marvin nodded a yes.

"Fine, your loss. Have fun. Don't worry about poor little
old me. Alone in the big city, not knowing a soul. I'll be
fine."

"Whatever, brave heart," I said, getting out of bed to
walk Marvin to the door. I wrote down Mary's name and
the details from the show, and handed them to our new
friend.

"See you soon," Marvin said, leaning up to kiss me.
Mmm, I got instant lumpage in my boxers. It didn't go
unnoticed.

"Ooh, how will I ever make it through the day thinking
about that?" he moaned, releasing the beast he now held
in his hand. I had never stood in a hotel hallway with a
boner before. And the maid down the hall had never seen
one there either, apparently. She screamed, made the sign of
the cross over her chest, and dropped her towels to the floor.
I turned beet red, gave Marvin a peck on the lips, told him
I'd see him at six, and hopped back into our room, slamming the door behind me.

Justin, rolling with laughter, peeked from under his
covers and shouted, "Slut!"

"Takes one to know one."

"Touche. Now let's go eat breakfast. All this commotion
so early in the morning has given me an appetite."

"Me too." But my appetite was for something completely
different.

We opted for the breakfast buffet at our hotel. Now, just a
quick piece of advice on the buffets in Vegas. Yes, indeed,
you can eat all you want for a ridiculously low price at every
single hotel in the city; however, I recommend you pay a
couple of extra bucks and go to one of the nicer places along
the Strip. Remember, you always get what you pay for. At
the Atlantis, we got microwaved frozen waffles, powdered eggs, stale-tasting blintzes, mediocre danish, juice from
concentrate, etc., etc. But hell, it was only seven dollars, all
you could stand. Plus, we were lazy and hungry, and didn't
want to deal with getting into yet another smelly cab just to
go wait in line at one of the nicer places. Anyway, at home I
would've paid the same price for a cup of coffee and a bagel,
so, really, I wasn't complaining-any more than usual.

"I think my nose is permanently fucked from those
chlorine fumes. This food has absolutely no flavor," Justin
whined.

"Nope, your nose is fine. This food really does have no
flavor, so eat up fast. I want to go exploring."

"By exploring do you mean gambling?"

"Gambling, exploring, whatever. When in Rome..."

"Ah, good idea. We eat and then go to Caesar's Palace."

"Not what I was implying, but sure, why not?"

With that agreed upon, we shoveled down our food and
got ready to head on out to Caesar's, but not before a certain
hotel manager descended upon us.

"Boys, boys, how on earth are you doing this morning?"
asked Jacques. He was flushed with excitement at our presence. And who could blame him? Still, it was a bit early
for such exuberance. Plus, he slid into our booth, landing
achingly close to Justin.

"Just fine, Jacques, sweetie," Justin replied, hand on
hand.

That sent him into overdrive. "Super, just super, boys.
And, hey, if you're not doing anything later, come join me
for the show tonight. We have an amazing tribute to the
oldies of country music. You'll swear that Patsy Cline has
risen from her grave, God rest her soul."

"Well, I don't-" Justin began to decline politely, but I
beat him to the punch.

"What Justin is about to say is, I already have a dinner
date, but he is as free as a bird." Speaking of punches, Justin was slamming his fist into my thigh beneath the table and
mercilessly kicking my feet.

"Oh, that is wonderful!" squealed Jacques in rapturous
delight. "Meet me at the main bar at six. And everything is
on me, Justin, honey. Everything." And he was off before
Justin could collect his thoughts and think of an excuse to
get out of it.

"You suck," he said.

"I thought you liked him. What's the problem?" I asked
innocently.

"If he let me tape his mouth shut, then yes, he'd be cute.
But now I have to listen to that all night long. I'll get you for
this, my pretty. And your little dog, too."

"Oh, please, take a pill, have a drink, and enjoy the show.
You've done worse things to me a hundred times over. Who
knows, maybe you'll find the love of your life."

"Not likely. And I hate Patsy Cline."

"Turn in your gay card now, sweetie. That's blasphemy."

"Fine, whatever, let's just get out of here before he comes
back and offers us anything else. I hope we run into his
brother again, Mr. Emphysema 2000, because I guarantee
you'll be enjoying the presence of his company for the exact
same show. Fucker."

"Sure, why not? I've never dated three guys simultaneously. What an adventure!" I shouted, exiting our booth.

"You want adventure? Join the navy, but please leave
me out of it. Wait until you're dating five guys at once,
then come and see me. I can say from experience, that is
an adventure." He wasn't joking. And I wasn't even happy
about seeing two. Still, it was a hell of a lot better than
none. Besides, what could go wrong?

We decided to walk to Caesar's. The fumes from our room
had not withdrawn from our heads yet, and we thought the fresh air would do us some good. In Vegas, however, fresh
air is hot and dry. Our lungs, accustomed to cold and damp,
were screaming up at us to hop into the shade and wait for
a cab, but we persevered. Besides, it was only a mile or so
to the casino.

After just five minutes of walking, however, the shirts had
to come off. Now, mind you, I'm no prude, but I have this
policy of removing my clothes only in the privacy of another
man's bedroom or my own. There's never a need to walk
through San Francisco shirtless. If anything, I constantly
have to keep adding jackets over sweatshirts over T-shirts.
Now I found myself walking down the street in nothing but
a pair of shorts and sneakers. I felt naked. Naked and very,
very pale. My skin hadn't seen the light of day since Luke
had raped Laura on General Hospital.

"Um, how come you're so tan and I'm as white as a
Donna Karan sheet?" I asked.

"You know that thing you do all day, what's it called?"

"Work?"

"Um, yeah. Well, while you're at work, I go to Dolores
Park and lie out. Or, better yet, I try to use a natural tanning
cream so I won't get skin cancer. And voila-George
Hamilton, eat your heart out."

"And I suppose while I'm working you're also getting
those abs, pecs, biceps, and other assorted muscly things to
look like that?"

"What? These old things? Just genetics, really. Oh,
maybe I hit the gym a few times a week, but mostly I just sit
in the sauna."

"My guess, you get more of a workout in the sauna
anyway. Am I right?"

"Good guess."

Looking at Justin made me even more uptight about my
body, so I slid my shirt back on and proceeded to broil in
the midday heat. I live by the rule: It's better to look good than to feel good. And I certainly looked better with my
clothes on; at least standing next to Justin I did. In my next
lifetime, I plan on being friends with people less attractive
than myself. It's so much better for your self-esteem that
way.

"By the way," Justin added, "Did you happen to notice a
black Mercedes pull out of our hotel parking lot at the same
time we left?"

"Nope. Why do you ask?"

"Probably nothing, but the guy driving and his buddy
ate breakfast at the same time we did this morning, and
they were giving me the creeps."

"How so?" I asked, feeling uneasy.

"Just that every time I looked up, I could tell they
were staring at us, but then they immediately looked back
down."

"Sure they weren't cruising you? It's been known to
happen." (Repeatedly and often.)