The General and the Horse-Lord (22 page)

He looked out over the yard. Billy was wearing some sort of costume, a black skinsuit with sequins that looked like a white shirt, black tie and tux, with black Converse high tops. He had a top hat and a short black cape tied around his neck, and he swept the top hat off his head, gave them a deep bow. “Billy, he never fit in with that bunch up there. He always had his eye set on something else. Someplace else. New Mexico. He talked about it all the time, the history, the artists. He was sure this was where he’d find a place to fit in.”

Kim came out of the garage, looked at them sitting on the porch. He was shading his eyes with his hand, squinting up at them. His skinsuit was pink, with short legs that ended midthigh, and he was wearing pink Converse high-tops. He was wearing some sort of skirt over the skinsuit that looked torn and tattered, made out of pieces of gold lamé. His black hair was tied up in pigtails, and he gave them a little wave, pulled Billy away. John thought he could see pink nail polish. “Seems like he fits in pretty good with this bunch. Are they all artists?”

Gabriel nodded. “I got a look at the exhibit this morning. They’ve got several photographers, each with their own exhibit, a fiber artist, a mask maker and makeup artist―that’s Billy―and a little three-man band. Three-person band, I guess. Drag queens.” John and Cody exchanged a look. “These drag queens sing to support the victims of intimate partner violence. I think they call themselves the Kitty Cats.”

“Well, I’ll be looking forward to that,” Cody said.

They stayed on the back porch for longer than they should have, telling war stories, stories about bull riding, stories about raising boys. Gabriel finally stood up. “If we miss the Kitty Cats opening number, we’re going to be hearing about it for a very long time.”

John found a parking space behind the McDonald’s, and they pushed their way through the crowd of students and artists and homeless people to get into Ho Ho’s. Out front, the huge banner for the art show was titled BEAUTIFUL FACES. The banner was a collage of children’s faces, laughing, beautiful children’s faces, babies, boys and girls, and along the bottom, the text gave statistics about intimate partner violence. John found the baby picture of Kim, his mouth grinning, drool on his chin. Cody pointed out a little picture of Billy in a red cowboy hat.

Inside, the artist-hosts had been painted up by Billy’s hand to look like cats. Gabriel nudged him. “It’s from that musical
Cats
. Remember? Billy is the Magical Mr. Mistoffelees, and Kim is Grizabella. Look at the old ladies.”

The elderly Vietnamese ladies were serving up food in twin cat costumes. John shrugged, looked a question at Gabriel. “Mungojerrie and Rumpleteaser?” Gabriel was studying the crowd, and John thought he was watching for Juan. They spotted him finally in a tan trench coat and rumpled hat, with cat whiskers glued on his nose. Gabriel grinned. “He’s Macavity, the Mystery Cat.” He pushed through the crowd until he was in front of Juan. The Mystery Cat let him have a hug; then he wiggled away and was off again, delivering his trays of food.

The Kitty Cats were a trio of pretty ladies with extravagantly long painted nails, two blondes and a redhead, wearing black stockings and heels. They sang a variety of doo-wop songs that were easy to dance to and showed off their wide range of voices to good effect.

They walked along the walls, looking at the exhibits. John saw Kim’s photography immediately. The group was titled
The Blueberry Chronicles!
He had done a series of self-portraits, then marked them up with magic marker comments. One picture showed his swollen, cut lip, pushed out with his tongue, and the magic marker said,
Ow! That hurts!

The blueberry picture was there, and Kim posed as Rodin’s
The Thinker
, and the thought bubble over his head said,
What the Fuck Just Happened?

The one John liked the most was Kim with a mad face, mad, but with sad eyes, and he’d made a list at the bottom of the photograph.
Options
, it said.
1. Buy a Weapon. 2. Have a Good Cry. 3. Talk to the Cops? 4.
Get a Facial. 5. All of the Above
.

One of the other photographers had printed photos on fabric, then washed them until they were faded and torn. The fabric artist had made something that looked like little baskets with pieces of metal sticking out from the sides. These were titled
Wreck on the Highway
. All of the work had edges that were torn, frayed, worn-out. Billy had made a series of masks that were hanging on the wall, and Gabriel studied these a long time. They looked Japanese, and Gabriel told John and Cody they were faithful depictions of ancient samurai helmets made out of paper, and they showed cuts and tears, like they had been used in battle. Billy came up to them, his face painted black and white. He was wearing the mask John thought made him look like the Phantom of the Opera. “I’m real proud of you, son.” Cody gathered him up close, and Billy snuggled happily in his father’s arms.

“I just felt like I wanted everybody to have a helmet when they needed one.”

A reporter came up to them, a young girl with intense dark eyes. She gave Gabriel a hungry look and dragged him away into the corner for a chat. John saw her showing him a copy of what looked like a cell phone picture from Effex, with the banner of Brian Walker’s face. She was talking, gesturing, and Gabriel had his hands in his pockets, staring out into space. He turned around, looked back at John, winked, then leaned over and spoke in her ear for a good two minutes. She was smart enough to be quiet and listen, and John hoped she had a recorder on her person somewhere, so she didn’t miss anything.

They ducked out when the Kitty Cats were starting their second set. They left Billy and Kim dancing in the middle of the floor, Kim’s torn gold lamé skirt flying out when he spun on his pink sneakers.

J
OHN
looked into the garage early. Kim was splayed across his bed, facedown, still wearing his gold skirt and pink skinsuit. Billy was there too, curled up on a couple of pillows, and there were three other artists, cats, or drag queens, John wasn’t sure, lying on the floor, asleep. They looked like a piece of performance art, gay angels after the fall. John closed the door again and put on a big pot of coffee.

He heard the shower come on a few minutes later, and Billy peeked through the door, wearing one of Kim’s tee shirts and a pair of sweats that fell over the top of his feet. John got him a tea bag and the unfiltered raw honey.

“I really loved the show, Billy. You guys did a great job.”

“Gabriel said he wanted to buy the masks! Isn’t that cool? My first professional art sale.”

“Very cool.” He waited, and Billy sipped his tea.

“I don’t know if I should go home with my dad. I mean, this is just one setback, right? I’ll have others. I need to figure out how to handle the things that come my way.” John waited. “On the other hand, I’m only eighteen. I have to admit I’ve been more homesick than I expected to be. I know my mom is worried.”

“What would you do if you went home?”

“There’s a decent art school at the U. Heavy into cowboy art, though. Realistic art, not a great deal of abstraction. I’m totally into the abstract. I’m not sure how well I’d fit in there.” He looked back at the garage. “I fit in really well here. Really, really well. Like the cat’s pajamas.”

“You going to talk to your dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell him I said you could stay here with us.”

Billy’s face bloomed into a smile. “Really? That would be so cool! Even though I know I’m going to be like an annoying little brother to Kim. He can be really protective, you know? One of those Kitty Cats asked me out, the one with the red hair, and Kim was, like, right there, and he made some joke about my being too young and led me away by the wrist! Can you believe that?”

“Those Kitty Cats looked a bit too old to me too.”

Billy shrugged. “Older guys have always asked me out. This was the first drag queen, though. I actually think she was trying to recruit me into the band. How cool would that be?”

“You talk to your dad, and then let me know.” John was running through available bedrooms in his mind.

Kim staggered into the kitchen, holding his head between both hands. He appeared to have lipstick smeared across his face, and he was greenish under the pancake. John studied him without speaking, his arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t go anywhere,” Kim said, and he sprinted to the bathroom. John heard some retching, then the water running.

Billy was shaking his head. “There is too much alcohol in the gay college scene,” he said, trying on the mask of a wise old sage. John gave him a look, and he giggled and went back to the garage. “I’m getting dressed and going off to see my dad,” he said. “Later, gator.”

Gabriel came out of the bedroom dressed for work, wearing a new lavender shirt and a purple-and-gray silk tie. John felt a little twist of lust when Gabriel grinned at him, tucked his shirt in his waistband.

“You want some coffee?”

Gabriel slid his hands around John’s waist. He leaned down, nibbled his way along his jawline. “I want something.”

“I just offered young Billy a berth with us. We may have to think about building an addition on to the house.”

“I bought his masks for our bedroom.”

“Yeah, he told me. He’s really psyched.”

“I’m probably going to be late tonight. I’ve got some work to catch up with. Anyone calls you from the IG’s office, call me right away, okay?”

“No worries there. I might drop dead from a heart attack.”

Gabriel look at him a long moment. “Have you talked to Kim this morning?”

“He staggered in here, then went off to puke.”

“I think he’s got an idea we might consider. I’m going to leave it to you, but my vote is yes.” Gabriel kissed him before he could speak, grabbed his briefcase off the table, and was out the door.

Kim was back a few minutes later, holding a file folder. He sat down at the kitchen table, rested his head on the tabletop. “That was an absolute frigging blowout! What did you think?”

“I thought it was an absolute frigging blowout. I’m real proud of you, kiddo.”

“One of the galleries downtown said they want to host the show. That is un-fucking-believable! My first curated show.”

“Very cool.”

“So I’ve been thinking about your issue with Mrs. Horse-Lord. And all that it entails regarding your future and your past.”

“Not your problem, Kim.”

“Just listen. You remember the picture I took of you and the Horse-Lord?” John nodded. Kim pulled a photograph out of the folder and showed it to him. They were laughing, their arms around each other, Gabriel looking dark and fierce and handsome in his flight suit. John’s gray eyes were lit with laughter. “Now look at this.”

Kim pulled another photo out of the folder. It was a copy of the same picture, but it had been mocked up to resemble a magazine cover. At the very top was the word OUT, and along the bottom, the words:
The
General and the Horse-Lord
.
The Army Comes Out of the Closet.
“I don’t know if you’ve ever read
Out
, but it’s the premiere magazine for the gay community. I want you to consider doing an interview with them about what it was like to be on active duty when it was illegal to be gay. How it affected your life, your choices. And what’s happening now, how those times are still being used against you.”

John stared down at the photograph, imagined seeing that picture on the cover of a magazine sold all over the country. Maybe all over the world. Coming out to the world. Gabriel, saying his vote was yes.

“What it would mean is you get to tell your side of things. No one can threaten you with something if you take ownership of it. And this will keep the inspector general from even thinking about proceeding against you. You’ve already been a hero, and now you’ll be a gay hero, risking it all for love. They can’t be seen to attack a hero.”

“Kim, what makes you think this magazine would be interested in an interview like this?”

“I already contacted them. I sent them a copy of the photo and gave the reporter a little brief. Who I was, who you are, who Gabriel is. I offered to write the story myself. They said they would send their own people, but they would use my photo. That’s a major coup for a young photographer such as myself. But now I’m thinking how much fun it is to stage art shows. Maybe I should be a gallery slave. But what would Ho Ho’s do without me?”

“Kim? You already contacted them? Without speaking to me first?”

“Uncle John, sometimes you’re a little slow on the uptake. You need a gentle push in the right direction.”

“You think so?”

“The Horse-Lord wants full disclosure. He wants to live in the light, openly and honestly, with you. You can see that, can’t you? But he would never push you. You could give him this gift. And if you do this, you remove a weapon from your enemy. Good strategy, right?”

“It’s a tactic we could consider,” he said. “I’ll think about it. Now, on to another topic. Billy’s off talking to his dad about staying here for school. What’s your take?”

“He’s still a little frail, but he’s a good artist, Uncle John. I really hope he gets his chance. He’s just so open, you know?” Kim was frowning. “He’s a little too open to people. He’ll go off with anybody. He says artists have to have a broad range of experiences. I mean, shit,
Juan
is more careful about strangers!”

“I told him he could stay here with us. We could build another studio in the garage if you guys could share the bathroom.”

Kim shook his head. “There’s plenty of room. We could share the garage as is without any problem. If you built another studio, we’d spend all our time tapping out messages on the walls between our spaces. Billy likes to talk, have you noticed that?”

“No, really?”

“Where I’ve got all my art supplies, we could clear that out and put in a bed and desk. We actually have access to studio space at the school. And that way I can keep an eye on him. But what about Juan?”