The Queen & the Homo Jock King (28 page)

Who’d also had an affair with a nurse, resulting in the man I was speaking to on the phone.

“What did he want?” I asked.

“It was weird,” he said. “He acted like he actually cared about what was going on with me. He asked me how I was liking my job. Where I was living now. What I did outside of work.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “That’s good, right? Well, as good as talking to evil can be.”

“Uh,” he said. “That’s not the bad part.”

“Oh. What is, then?”

“I may or may not have told him I was seeing someone.”

I sat straight up. “You
what
?” Holy shit. If Darren told his dad that he was gay, it would be a huge step for him. Yeah, it’d probably fuck up our plans, but even
I
knew what was important here and if he’d finally made that decision, then I’d—

“Yeah,” he said. “That just really slipped out. I don’t even know why I said it. One minute we’re talking about the city council, and the next he’s asking if there’s anyone special in my life. And before I knew it had even happened, he was under the impression that I had a girlfriend named Helena and now he’s invited us both to a lunch at the country club because he wants to meet the girl that’s managed to tie me down. So, it’s not
too
bad, right? I mean, what’s the worst that could possibly happen? Good. I’m glad we’ve had this talk. I’ll text you with the details and we’ll figure it out later! Bye!”

“Darren Rasputin Mayne,” I growled. “If you hang up that phone, I will
end
you.”

“My middle name’s not Rasputin,” he said. “What the hell. How does that even sound like that’d be my middle name?”

“It sounded dramatic,” I admitted. “I needed it for reasons. What’s your middle name? Is it something awesome like Vince’s? Like Olga? Or Leslie?”

“It’s Matthew.”

“Oh. That’s… disappointing.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah. Well. You should be.”

I could practically
hear
him rolling his eyes. “What’s yours?”

“Patrick.”

He tried to muffle his laughter. “Sanford Patrick Stewart. Like, Patrick Stewart. The
Star Trek
cap—”

“I know.”

“He was also Professor X in the—”

“I know!” I snapped at him.

“Just making sure.”

“It’s not like I haven’t heard that before. I mean, it’s always been—
why the hell are we talking about this
? You told your father you have a
what
now?”

“Dammit,” he said. “I thought maybe you wouldn’t have remembered that.”

“It literally happened two minutes ago.”

“Well, yeah. But you’re easily distracted.”

“I am
not
.”

“I can list at least seven times I’ve distracted you.”

“Really? Fine. Go ahead. I can’t wait to hear this.”

“Okay. Number one. Right now.”

“You
bastard
!”

“I’m hysterical,” he said, obviously pleased with himself.

“How the
hell
did you end up telling your father you had a girlfriend?”

“I don’t know! It just… slipped… out? Maybe. He was talking about how he was glad we were finally having a conversation again and said something that reminded me of you and I don’t know, okay? It just happened.”

“Your evil father said something that reminded you of me? I’m offended.”

“Not the point.”

“It kind of is the point, really.”

“Fine. Yes. It’s completely the point.”

“And now he wants to meet said girlfriend.”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god.”

“Look, I know it’s not ideal.”

“Oh my god.”

“We’ll figure something out, okay? I can tell him we’re not at the meet-the-parents stage in our—”

“What am I going to
wear
?”

“—relation… ship… wait. What?”

“I’ve never been to a country club,” I said, jumping up from the couch and heading toward the spare room that housed Helena’s walk-in closet. “That sounds so
fancy
. Like, you walk in and the first thing they do is hand you a hot towel for your face and champagne. Ooh, I bet they have
good
champagne. Like, not the kind that you get in a plastic cup, but in a crystal flute that just bubbles in your throat and they’ll say, ‘Welcome, Ms. Handbasket. You look lovely today. Would you like a complimentary Lexus Hybrid SUV?’ Of course, I’ll have to accept because otherwise, it would just be rude. So what on earth could I wear to say that yes, I am a fierce and classy woman who takes no fucking shit from anyone, but that I am still a sexual creature who moves with a fluidity not seen since Marilyn Monroe?”

“I don’t… know what to say to any of that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” I said, throwing open the closet door. “You usually dress like you’re on your way to your next kegger, bro. With your frat bros. Who you have bromances with. You sit around and drink broskis.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Where is it?” I demanded as I flipped through the hangers. “Which country club is it at? It better not be one of the shitty ones, I swear to
god
, Darren. I will not go to some crapshack that pretends it’s something it’s not. I am a beautiful and fragile creature. I expect to be treated as such.”

He sighed as if he couldn’t believe this was his life. “Ventana Canyon.”

I gasped into the phone. “That’s where all the
celebrities
go!”

“I know.”

“You
know
? And you didn’t think to
tell
me?”

“I’m telling you
now
. What do you think the point of this entire conversation has been about? It’s like you’re not even listening—”

“Really? Because I seem to remember you trying to tell me secrets about yourself while you were sitting on this like it meant
nothing
.”

“You asked me to tell you a secret about myself!”

“You told the wrong one!” I shouted into the phone. “I don’t care about your pedophile teacher that you wanted to have sex with!”

“Could you really not say it like that?” He sounded grumpy. “That makes it sound so… illegal.”

“It would have been illegal!”

“I didn’t fuck my teacher!”

“You thought about it.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I did.”

“I can’t
believe
I’m fake dating you.”

“Trust me, the feeling is completely mutual.”

“You can’t do that,” I snapped at him. “You’re not allowed to be funny right now. Or ever. There’s only so much my heart can take.”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“Tim Curry goes to Ventana Canyon,” I said, tossing all the
trashy fucking clothes
over my shoulder. “Darren, let me repeat that.
Tim Curry goes to Ventana Canyon
.”

“I don’t know who that is,” he said.

I shrieked into the phone.

“Ow,” he said. “Why do you have to be so—”

“Dr. Frank-N-Furter!
Rocky Horror Picture Show
!”

“Never saw it.”

“I don’t… understand. You never… saw… it? What does that even mean?”

“Oh boy.”

“How does one not
see
it? What kind of self-respecting gay are you?”

“The kind who’s about to introduce you as his girlfriend to his Republican father,” he said drily.

“I have nothing to wear!” I wailed. “Why the fuck do I have a pantsuit? I am not a businesswoman in a stock photo from the early nineties talking on her cell phone that’s as big as her head!”

“And that’s an image I’ll never unsee,” Darren said. “Wait, what color is the pantsuit?”

“Are you mocking me right now?”

“I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

“Good. Because I can’t believe I’m going to stand in the same place as Dr. Frank-N-Furter and all I have to wear is a pantsuit.”

“It’s really unfair.”

“It is,” I said. “I don’t know if you could even begin to comprehend the extent of this travesty.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’d let me get away with that.”

“You’re right,” I said. “I wouldn’t. I’m glad we’re on the same page with that. I’ll need at least three weeks to prepare for the role of a lifetime. I’m assuming you at least were smart enough to tell your father that we’d be happy to meet with him after the holidays.”

“Uh.”

I stopped my mad riffling of the closet to glare at the phone. “Darren.”

“Yeah,” he said. “About that. It’s. Uh. This Saturday?”

“Are you asking me or are you telling me?” I said, voice low and dangerous.

“Telling,” he said. “Definitely telling. Er. Um. Asking? You?”

“So what you’re saying is that in four days, I will be standing in front of your
father
who you have somehow convinced that you’re not only
straight
, but have managed to land a hot chick like me?”

“I… don’t… there are
so
many things wrong with what you just said.”

“Name two!”

“One, you’re not a hot chick.”

“Hey! I am the
hottest
chick!”

“Two, it’s not that hard to convince someone that I’m straight.”

“Oh please,” I said. “I’ve seen how you get when you’ve had one too many drinks in you. You’re practically on fire, you’re so flaming.”

“
Says the drag queen
. And I’m not flaming when I’m drunk!”

“So that wasn’t you last summer at my Karaoke Sunday drunk off margaritas singing Kesha?”

“That was
one
time.”

“Yeah, one time that you sang
seven songs for
. How the hell do you know the words to seven Ke$ha songs?”

“I don’t know,” he said. Yeah, definitely grumpy. “She’s like my spirit animal. Or something.”

“Why are you giving me all this ammo against you when I don’t have time to
do
anything about it? What kind of bastard are you? Your
spirit
animal? You big freaking homo!”

“She is fresh and exciting!”

“She doesn’t look like she bathes regularly,” I said. “Like, if you touched her, she’d probably be sticky.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Hey. I’m not the one that gets a musical boner for Ke$ha. Because that’s just weird.”

“It’s not
weird
.”

“It’s totally weird.”

He sighed heavily into the phone. “You were right about one thing, though, I guess.”

“Of course I was. I’m right about most things. What was I right about this time?”

“It would be hard to convince anyone, much less my father, that I could get someone like you,” he muttered.

“Meep,” I squeaked.

“Did you just step on a cat?”

“Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what happened. Stupid cat. I stepped on it and it made that weird noise you just heard. Good job.” Because I didn’t want to tell him that I’d instantly gotten a partial erection from him inferring that I was something he could never have. One does not tell their fake boyfriends that one has been given half a chub while standing in a drag queen’s closet holding a lavender pantsuit that looks like it came from the set of
Designing Women
.

“When did you get a cat?”

Why was everyone
asking
me that? I didn’t sound like—“Last week”—and I was lying, I was such a
liar
because this fake relationship was built on
lies
. “From the pound. His name is Kitten Von Whiskersnap De Martinez. He’s of German-Mexican descent.”
Everything was a lie
.

“I don’t even want to know,” he said.

“Good. Because you just dropped a hetero bomb on me and now in addition to being your fake boyfriend, I also have to be your fake
girlfriend
and somehow meet with your father to convince him you are in a stable, heteronormative relationship while trying to get him to agree to save a gay bar without actually telling him about the gay bar. Good! Fine! This will be just
fucking perfect
!”

“Hey, boo. You sound stressed.”

“I will
literally
castrate you, Darren. I really will.”

“If you wanted to touch my junk, all you had to do was ask.”

I sputtered quite magnificently into the phone, finally finishing with “I am
not
that easy” because it seemed like the only thing to say.

“Okay,” he said. “I believe you. Mostly. So, now would probably be a bad time to mention that Matty somehow wrangled my mother’s phone number out of me earlier this week, only to call her and invite her and I to Nana’s house for Thanksgiving this year because she told my mother we’re dating and that we’re sort of family now?”

“
She did what
!”

“Wow. I was wrong. You
can
get louder. That’s impressive. I’m impressed.”

“Your
mother
!”

“Yeah, so. I guess it’ll just be this whole family experience because my mom says she can’t wait to meet you. Great, right? Ha-ha. Lucky you. I’m sure everything will be just fine. Oh look at the time. I suddenly remembered I have to go do something and not be on the phone with you anymore. I’ll see you tomorrow night at your show. Bye, boo.”

“Darren!
Darren
!”

But he’d already hung up the phone.

And you know what?

The weirdest thing hit me then.

I stood there staring at my phone in the middle of a destroyed closet, surrounded by enough sequins and spandex to make it look like I’d murdered
RuPaul’s Drag Race
, wondering how I’d found myself in the position to meet Darren’s father as his girlfriend and to meet his mother as his boyfriend, knowing that everything around me was spiraling out of control, but the only thing that I could focus on was the little blinking number that let me know I’d been talking to Darren for over an hour on the phone. An hour where’d he’d pissed me off, turned me on, made me laugh, and made me sad. An hour that let me see the man behind the façade of a Homo Jock King, at least for a little bit.

And it hit me that maybe it was the best hour I’d had in a very long time.

And if I just happened to sigh happily a little, well.