The Queen & the Homo Jock King (10 page)

Paul sighed. “The fact that you would even think that’s an option here really says something about your state of mind.”

“I’m old,” Nana said, coming into the closet with me. “I don’t have to give two shits about anything anymore. It’s my reward for living this long, though
some
people don’t seem to agree with that. It’s why I’m not allowed in Safeway anymore. They don’t like it when I try to steal ham or detergent. Come on, Paul! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I’m over thirty years old now and in a stable relationship,” Paul said. “My idea of adventure is going to the mall and trying on skinny jeans, which I should never do again. They’re too tight. If I fart, it has nowhere to go and I fall down.”

“Ah, the problems of today’s youth,” Nana said.

“I should wear spandex,” I said. “Bring me my leotard.”

“You’ll sweat.” Nana riffled through the hangers. “And that means you’ll sweat alcohol. You’ll never impress your archnemesis by looking like a drunk ballerina.”

“I’m not trying to impress
anyone
,” I snapped at her.

“Sure you’re not,” she said.

“Hey,” Paul said. “Hey, guy Sandy had sex with.”

“That’s not his name,” I called out to Paul. “I already called him that.”

“What
is
his name?”

“Would you think less of me if I said I didn’t know?”

“Probably.”

“I have no idea.”

“Slut,” Nana coughed.

“What?” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“Nothing.” She smiled that sweet-old-lady smile that never failed to charm.

“You’re adorable,” I said.

“I know. Everyone says so.”

“Oh
gross
,” Paul said. “I just tried to touch his shoulder and it was
sticky
. Sandy, why the hell did you come on his
shoulder
?”

“I’m exuberant,” I said. “And also a shooter. It happens.”

“La la la, not listening,” Nana said. “You’re all virgins in my head and still have pillow fights and do each other’s makeup.”

“There was really no hope for us to be straight, was there?” Paul asked.

“None in the slightest,” Nana said. “Here, wear this. It’ll bring out your eyes. And your butt.” She handed me a soft, thin green sweater with a pair of tight black jeans. “Also, don’t wear underwear. Make your archnemesis want to sign for your package.”

“La la la, not listening,” I said. “You’re just an elderly lady who likes to knit and tell stories of her youth when dinosaurs roamed the earth.”

“Cheeky little minx.” She patted my cheek. “Also, you might want to use some cover-up under your eyes. You’re looking a little… well-worn, dear.”

“I’m
hideous
!” I wailed as she left the closet.

“He not waking up?” she asked Paul.

“I don’t want to touch him anymore,” Paul said. “He’s covered in Sandy.”

Nana slapped his bare ass. “Wow. Look at that thing bounce.”

“Sandy?”

“Yes, Paul.”

“My grandmother just got to second base with your trick.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I’m done with him.”

Nana cackled gleefully as she left the room.

I stood up in the closet and shrugged out of the robe. I pulled the sweater over my head and almost fell down while trying to put a leg through the pant leg.

I had almost succeeded in dressing myself like a normal, functioning human being when Nana came back into the room with a glass of ice water. It looked like the greatest thing I’d ever seen, and I was about to thank her and chug it down when she poured the entire thing on the naked man in my bed.

The effect was instantaneous. He screamed as he shot up from the bed, completely oblivious to the fact that he was naked. And my fuzzy memories of the night before cleared a bit, because regardless of what we’d done together, Helena had chosen wisely, because dude was
hot.
A little young for my taste, probably just this side of legal drinking age. But his
muscles
had muscles and he had a hairy chest and a
really
nice nose, and I
must
have still been drunk if I focused on the nose with everything else on display.

“Well
done
,” Nana said to me. “He’s got a huge—”

“—ego if you finish that sentence, oh my god.” Paul reached over and pulled his grandmother away from the naked man and out of my room, shutting the door behind them. “Deal with this, Sandy!” he shouted through the door.

“What the hell?” The guy looked bewildered.

“Hi,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you. You fucked my ass last night.”

The guy grinned. He looked like a puppy and I almost said
aww
. Thankfully, I was able to hold that in because I was not a twelve-year-old girl. “Yeah, I did,” he said, and he was
such
a frat boy. “Man, the things you can do with your mouth are just
insane
.”

“Yes,” I said. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” I was being rude. It wasn’t nice. I needed to return the compliment. “You sure have a nice penis.” Oh dear god.

He looked down at it, and I couldn’t help but follow his gaze. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m pretty proud of it.”

“Yeah,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

So we just stood there, staring at his penis for a good minute or so.

Then, “Oh man,” he groaned. “Do I smell bacon?”

“Uh,” I said, breaking from my debate on whether or not I wanted to give him a hand job. “Yeah, it’s brunch. I have it every Sunday with my family.”

“Great!” he said. “Let me put on my clothes.”

I nodded, feeling relieved that I didn’t have to be rude. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to meet your family over brunch naked.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Wouldn’t want to—oh my god, say
what
.”

“I’m starving.” He pulled up his pants. I wondered where his underwear went. Had he even been wearing underwear? I was vexed that I couldn’t remember. Terribly vexed. He pulled on a T-shirt that proclaimed him as a member of the FBI, a Female Body Inspector, and I instantly regretted all my life’s choices.

I was looking on the floor for his underwear, pondering just what kind of underwear a frat boy would wear (probably something with Batman or My Little Ponies on them or whatever it is frat boys were into these days), trying to figure out the polite way to tell him to go home, when he opened the door and walked out of my bedroom, muttering, “bacon, bacon, bacon.”

“Fuck my life,” I groaned, chasing after him.

Apparently frat boys in need of bacon move faster than the speed of light because he was already in the kitchen by the time I caught up with him.

With Paul.

And Vince.

And Corey.

And Nana.

And Matty Auster.

And Larry Auster.

And Wheels, a disabled dog who instead of having back legs, had a little cart attached to his butt with wheels on either side.

Because
fuck my life
.

“Hello,” Matty said to my one-night stand. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” She smiled at me over his shoulder and then looked back at him.

“I don’t think Sandy has either,” Paul muttered.

“This your boyfriend, son?” Larry asked me.

“Oh god no,” the frat boy said. “I don’t do relationships. I like having sex with different people too much to settle down with one person.” He frowned and looked back at me. “No offense. You’re like, super cool and way pretty when you’re a drag queen. And when you’re not. I just don’t want to be monogamous.”

“No offense taken,” I said even though I was totally offended. And flattered. It was an odd combination. So I said, “Thank you. I think.”

“I didn’t catch your name,” Nana said. “But I did see your—”

“And that’s enough of that,” Paul said.

“Penis,” Nana whispered.

“I’m Brian,” the frat boy said. “Is that bacon? God, I could really go for some bacon. Hey, Vince.”

“Hi, Bri,” Vince said and then went back to pouring his orange juice like that hadn’t happened at all.

Paul and I stared at him.

“What?” Vince asked with a frown.

“You know Sandy’s boner friend?” Paul asked.

“Can you never say ‘boner friend’ again?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” Vince said. “He’s friends with—”

The doorbell rang.

“Who the hell—” I started. Then, “Oh god no.”

“I’ll get it,” Nana yelled, moving toward the door. Wheels chased after her, barking as the doorbell rang again.

“I’m friends with Darren,” Brian said.

“You’re
what
?” I squeaked. “Oh fuck my face. You’re a homo jock!”

“Newly inducted,” he agreed.

“So they’re just sex friends?” Larry asked.

“It would seem so,” Matty said. “Should we get a sex friend?”

Larry shook his head. “I would get too jealous over something like that. Maybe we could borrow Vince’s riding crop.”

“Giddyup, Mr. Auster,” she giggled.

“Oh my god,” Paul groaned. “I am not a freaking
pony
!”

“He’s my cart horse,” Vince said. “There’s a difference.”

“Well, look who was at the door!” Nana crowed as she came back into the room.

Followed by Darren.

And by some random twink I’d never seen before, all tall, thin, with big eyes and probably only seventeen.

“Holy shit,” Paul wheezed. “You brought your one-night stand
with
you?”

“He was already here,” I hissed.

“I was talking to Darren! That’s the twink he left the bar with last night.”

“He insisted,” Darren said through gritted teeth. Then he saw Brian and his eyes narrowed. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Eating bacon.” Brian popped a strip of bacon in his mouth. “Also, had a round of power fucking with the Drag Queen.”

“Oh my god,” I moaned, though I did wonder what exactly
power fucking
consisted of.

“You did
what
?” Darren said, sounding dangerous. And if I were more sober, I’d probably be more offended by how annoyed he looked, like the very thought of one of his little jocks fucking me disgusted him.

But I was drunk, so it just made me bitchy. “Power fucked. There was power in the fucking.”

Darren turned his glare to me. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” I said. Because I was a liar. “I’m not as drunk as you think you are.”

“What?”

“Brunch!” I announced.

Darren glowered.

Nameless Twink looked bored.

Vince grinned at Paul.

Paul made heart eyes at Vince.

Wheels tried to lick his asshole.

Nana looked pleased as punch.

Matty and Larry were almost making out.

Brian winked at me.

“Oh my god,” Corey breathed. “I’m about to attend the most awkward brunch ever. Fuck yeah. Frittata, anyone?”

AND THAT’S
how I found myself sitting down to brunch with my family, my one-night stand, my archnemesis, and
his
one-night stand.

Nana, as she was wont to do, sat at the head of the table, reminding us that our family was considered matriarchal and she should be treated as a dictator, if not a full-fledged deity. None of that was true, of course, but if we didn’t allow it, her retribution was swift and painful and usually involved the parrot Johnny Depp in some way, shape, or form.

To her right sat Matty, then Larry, Corey, and Brian. I sat opposite Nana, and to my right (somehow) was Darren, his twink (who told us all in the most bored voice humanly possible that his name was Octavius and he was a model), then Vince and Paul.

Why Darren had ended up next to me, I’ll never know, but it was taking all my restraint to keep from stabbing my fork into the fleshy part of his palm. Which led to me trying to stare surreptitiously at his very large hands and wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around my—

Nope. Not even happening.

Darren, for his part, didn’t look any more excited to be sitting next to me, but I thought more of his consternation was directed toward Octavius, who apparently felt it was appropriate to suck on Darren’s ear and practically sit in his lap.

I almost felt bad for Darren, simply because Octavius was obviously trashy, but since I didn’t care about Darren in the slightest, I moved on from that rather quickly.

I was also still rather drunk, which, honestly, probably wasn’t the best situation with the company I was in.

“I don’t even care about your man hands,” I hissed at him.

“What?” he said, eyes narrowing.

“Corey,” I said, ignoring Darren. “This frittata is passable. Well done.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Not as good as mine, of course,” I added, because it needed to be said.

“Of course,” he said, smiling sweetly. “If only you’d been awake in time to make it, we’d be having yours instead of mine.”

“That’s probably my fault,” Brian said. “I kept him up most of the night.”

“Oh?” Larry asked. “Well, if you’re going to be Sandy’s boyfriend, we’re probably going to need to sit down and have a talk about things like your intentions with him and if you have a 401(k) or Roth IRA. I’ve never been in a relationship with a drag queen before, but I assume it’s probably expensive.”

“Very expensive,” I said.

“Dad,” Paul groaned. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Language,” he scolded. “There’s no need for that. It was a simple question.”

“Larry,” Matty said. “Sandy said they were just sex friends. Maybe it’s a little soon to them to be talking about being boyfriends.”

“Soon?” Larry said, sounding dubious. “So they can do anal but they can’t have a talk about feelings? That seems backward if you ask me.”

I choked on a sausage.

“Kids do things differently these days,” Matty said. “They don’t fall in love and get married as quickly as we did.”

“Paul and Vince did,” Larry said. “They were just like us.”

“A fact that I have to live with for the rest of my days,” Paul said. “And we’re not married, either.”