Mardi Gras Mambo (6 page)

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Authors: Gred Herren

BOOK: Mardi Gras Mambo
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In the time since we met, I hadn't really learned much about Misha. I knew he'd grown up in Moscow and had been in the Russian army. Other than that, he didn't like to talk about Russia at all. He would get a weird look on his face and then change the subject. He loved America, he loved New Orleans, and this was his life now, he'd say proudly. Russia was in the past, and he was never going back. I didn't know if he had family back there, but I got the distinct impression sometimes there was a serious reason he'd emigrated. I never pushed the subject—it wasn't any of my business, after all, if he didn't want to talk about it. I also didn't know what he did for a living, although I was pretty sure being an Ecstasy dealer in the gay bars wasn't lucrative enough to pay his rent. But I never asked. The dealer/client relationship automatically puts up some barriers.
He sat down next to me on the couch and patted my leg with a smile. “Is good costume, Scotty. Real sexy. Are boyfriends the same?”
I nodded. “They look better than me.” They did; I wasn't just being modest. Frank hadn't been overly thrilled about going out dancing in the tights. Colin and I were both naked underneath ours; Frank insisted on wearing a thong because the tights were “too revealing.” Even with the thong you couldn't miss his package, though. He had no idea how popular he was going to be on the dance floor.
He shook his head. “Not believing you.”
“Wait till you see them. Will you be out later?”
He nodded, his smile spreading. “Love dancing in crowds. Mardi Gras wonderful.” He reached under the couch and pulled out a metal strongbox, which he unlocked. “How many you needing?”
“Sixteen.” Frank and Colin didn't know it, but I was buying enough for us to take one a day through Fat Tuesday. I figured it was a pretty safe bet to assume they'd both like it and would want to do it again. I was also picking up David's for him. David wasn't comfortable around Misha; he always got tongue-tied and said the stupidest things. Misha wasn't even his type; David usually liked small guys, preferably of Latin descent. But Misha had the kind of body that overruled the concept of types. He was
everybody's
type.
Misha whistled. “That many? Is not good for you.”
“It's not all for me—” I started to protest, before realizing he was laughing at me. I got my wallet out of my boot, counted out the cash, and put it down on the table. He started placing pills into little plastic ziplock baggies.
His cell phone rang. He had the ring tone set to “Mamma Mia” by ABBA. He reached into his pants pocket and looked at the display. He scowled. “Must take call.” He stood up and clicked it on. “Hello?”
He walked out of the room without saying anything, but I could hear someone talking very loudly through the phone. I couldn't make out any words, just that whoever had called seemed to be really pissed off about something. Then he shut the door behind him, and I couldn't hear anymore. I sat there on the couch for a couple of minutes, waiting, then figured I might as well help him out a bit. I started putting my pills into the baggies. I counted out four for David and slipped those into my left boot. I counted out three for tonight and put those in the same boot. The rest I put into one baggie, which I put into the change pouch in my wallet, then slipped it back into the other boot. I glanced at my watch. A few more minutes ticked by, and he still didn't come back. I started tapping my foot.
“Come on, Misha,” I said under my breath. I wanted to go, but it seemed rude to just leave without saying good-bye. I looked into the lockbox, which he'd put on the floor. I saw several vials filled with blue pills like the ones he'd given me. There were vials containing pills in different colors—several little amber bottles I recognized as containing GHB—and there were little plastic baggies with white powder (crystal? coke? Special K?) and even a hefty bag of pot. There was a stack of bills that looked pretty thick shoved into one corner of the box; the top bill was a fifty.
Maybe he
can
support himself dealing,
I thought, closing the lid and setting it back down on the floor.
Then I heard his voice in the next room. He was yelling, but I couldn't understand anything he was saying. The wall muffled his voice, and he might have been yelling in Russian. Then the noise stopped, the door swung back open, and he walked back into the room.
He looked paler than usual, and as he sat down I realized he was shaking. “Are you okay, Misha?”
He shook his head. “Am fine.” He looked at the coffee table and then at me. “You finished bagging for me?” There were beads of sweat on his forehead, despite the frigid temperature in the apartment.
I nodded. “Yeah. You know, you shouldn't leave your strongbox open and alone with someone, Misha. I could have just walked out of here with it.”
His eyes narrowed to slits for a minute, but then he grinned. “No! I trust you—you would not do. Not Scotty. Other people I not trust, no, but you?” He patted my leg again. “You I trust. You friend.”
I was oddly touched. “Thanks, Misha, that's sweet of you to say.”
He looked away and opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again.
“Misha? Are you sure everything's okay?”
“Everything fine.” He shook his head. “Um, you mind going? Wish could stay, talk some more, but expecting someone.”
“Of course. The boys are waiting for me.” He walked me to the door, where he gave me another hug, holding on much longer than he usually did.
“Happy Mardi Gras,” I said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “And if you need someone to talk to—”
“Happy Mardi Gras to you.” He gave me a long look, giving me the impression again that he wanted to say something else, then stepped back and closed the door.
I stood there for a minute. What on earth? Something was definitely bothering him. I debated knocking on the door again to make sure he was okay—and then talked myself out of it. That dealer/client discretion thing kicked in; I wasn't that good a friend of his. If he had a problem, he probably had real friends he could talk to.
You are really getting paranoid, Scotty,
I told myself. I stood there on the stoop for a few minutes, trying to pick up the sense I'd had earlier, but it was gone.
I walked up St. Ann to the corner at Bourbon and grinned. I was still cold, but there was a big enough crowd in the street down there to create warmth. I picked my way through the crowd, saying hello and exchanging kisses with friends and strangers alike, and finally emerged out in a less crowded area halfway down the street. It was just a sandbar in the sea of people, though; less than ten yards away the crowd spilling over from Lafitte's began. I'd told the boys to get drinks and we'd meet on Bourbon across from the bar in front of the Clover Grill, so I crossed over to that side and pushed my way through the crowd. The balcony was packed at Lafitte's, and I could tell by the way the crowd was gathered into pockets that someone had to be showing something for beads. Sure enough, a few seconds later the guys on the balcony erupted into cheers and beads showered down to a spot in the crowd.
The boys were standing in front of the newspaper stand. I stood for a minute, watching them. They looked incredible, and everyone walking past was checking them out. Frank had already discarded his mask, and Colin had pushed his up on top of his head. Colin had his back to me, and in the tights his big muscular ass looked like it could crack walnuts without much effort. His broad muscled back tapered down to his narrow waist, and the tights had worked their way down so you could see the top of his crack.
I'm going to have to keep my eyes on them all night so someone doesn't try to take one of them off,
I realized. After all, the gay motto of Mardi Gras was “hold on to your husband!”
Of course, in theory we could all sleep with whomever we wanted whenever we wanted, but
theory
and
reality
are two different things.
David wasn't costuming. His concession to the season was a leather vest and a leather cap pulled down low over his eyes. I slipped David his pills and threw an arm around both of my guys, pulling them in close. “Having fun yet?”
“You were gone a long time.” Frank frowned at me. “I was starting to get worried.”
Not this again,
I thought.
Is he going to be nervous all night long?
“Everything's fine, Frank. Relax already.” I reached up and kissed his cheek. “Just have fun, okay?”
Colin handed me a bottle of water and grinned. “Well, we both get nervous when you're out of our sight for a while. I mean, with your history of getting kidnapped—”
“This is true,” David chimed in.
“Why does everyone I love get so much pleasure from giving me shit?” I raised my arms imploringly upward and tilted my head back. “Why, Goddess, why?”
They all laughed, the rat bastards.
We watched the crowd for a while, pointing out hot guys to each other for about twenty minutes, then took our pills. Frank hesitated, and then I gave him a reassuring smile. He closed his eyes and washed it down with a big swig of water. I wasn't letting them drink liquor that night. The first time doing Ecstasy is enough of a mind trip without involving booze. I personally didn't like to drink when I was rolling—it made me throw up once—but David always could without a problem. I was Cruise Director Julie McCoy for the evening, so fifteen minutes after we took the pills we walked down the street to the dance clubs.
I could feel mine starting to hit as I led everyone out to the dance floor at the Parade. David's eyes looked bigger, so I knew he was feeling it too. Colin had a big grin on his face. And Frank—he looked like he was going to get sick. He was breathing hard, sweat beading his forehead, and he kept swallowing.
Oh, no,
I thought. “Wait here!” I yelled at Colin and David, then grabbed Frank's hand and pulled him off the dance floor to the front bar area where some couches were placed.
“Are you okay?” I shouted, to be heard over the music.
“I-I-I don't know.” He looked at me. His pupils were huge. “I feel really funny, Scotty.”
I shoved him down on the arm of the couch and put my mouth on his ear. “Relax, Frank, you're just starting to feel it. Don't fight it—just don't fight it and you'll be fine. Go with it. You'll see.” Frank grabbed my hand and squeezed it. His hand was soggy and trembling. “Smile, Frank.”
He took a deep breath and smiled at me. “Oh, wow,” he said. His pupils were getting bigger, and his legs were starting to shake as well. I grabbed his hands and pulled him back up to his feet. “Bounce, Frank.”
He looked at me. “Bounce?”
I started bouncing. It was starting to hit me, and the bouncing felt good. He started bouncing too.
“Do you love me, Frank?”
The smile got bigger, and the tension around his eyes softened. “Yes, Scotty, I do.”
A wave of emotion crashed around me. “I love you, too, Frank.” And I reached up and kissed him and felt his entire body begin to tremble. Our lips held together, and it was amazing, as though we'd gone into our own little world, and there was nothing else and nobody else in the world that mattered. I pulled back from him. Frank's eyes were half shut, and I'd never seen such a big grin on his face. He looked so beautiful to me then that I wanted to just grab him and hold him tight, press him up against me . . .
Damn
, this was
good
Ecstasy!
He was still trembling. “Come on, Frank, let's go dance.” I pulled him back to the dance floor.
Colin and David were already out there, dancing and smiling from ear to ear. I could feel Frank starting to dance behind me, and we pushed out to join Colin and David.
“This is fucking awesome!” Colin shouted at me.
Frank just kept grinning.
“Woo!” said David, spinning around with a goofy smile on his face.
Then I recognized the opening notes of the dance remix of Wynonna's version of “I Want to Know What Love Is,” and it was like the deejay was playing it just for me. I screamed “Woo-hoo!” and threw my arms up in the air, my cape falling off my shoulders, and I started spinning around, losing myself in the music. I started singing along—my inner drag queen always seems to come out when I'm Xing—and then I felt someone behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to see Frank and felt him grinding against me, and then his arms came around me and he started kissing my neck, and then Colin was backing into me from the front, and I put my arms around him and started playing with his nipples, and he shuddered a bit and the three of us stayed that way for a few moments, our bodies locked together, sweating and trembling and loving the moment, loving each other, and then another wave of joy came crashing through me and I broke free from them and spun away, and then David was tapping me on my back, and I grinned at him, and then Wynonna mixed into Britney Spears's “Everytime,” and the dance floor was filled with other guys, and shirts were coming off, and the mirror ball descended from the ceiling, and green laser lights started hitting it, reflecting and bouncing off the steamed-up mirrors around the dance floor, and I grabbed the boys by the hand and dragged them over to the stage and I hopped up, with them jumping up on either side of me, and I stood there, looking out over the heads of the guys on the floor, and I stretched out my arms over the crowd, and it became my crowd, and I started dancing again, the boys dancing on either side of me, and I started performing for them all, letting the music just take me higher and higher and higher. . . .

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