The Queen & the Homo Jock King (33 page)

“Do I even need to mention the rumors of what happens in the back rooms of that place?” Taylor asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. And no, he really didn’t, since I’d been in those back rooms myself. As had Darren. As had a shit-ton of other people over the years. But in the last decade, there’d been no fines, no citations, no charges of lewd and lascivious conduct. People were carded with scanners that even the best fake IDs couldn’t bust. “Not exactly what we want Tucson to be known for. We want families to be able to walk down the street without having—”

“Remind me, again,” I said. “Which bar was it that got shut down for a week because of allegations of people getting drugged and raped? Surely it wasn’t Jack It. It was O’Donnell’s, that frat-boy bar. I assume it’s going on the chopping block too. You know. Because of the raping.”

“I can’t speak to that,” Taylor said. “Honestly, I really shouldn’t even be speaking about any of this. It’s all just speculation and hearsay. But, I understand your points. I really do. But I don’t see any redeeming quality that a place such as… as
Jack It
, has to offer. I mean, it’s not as if they—”

“But what about the children?” Darren blurted out.

I choked on my tongue and almost knocked over my water glass because what the hell was he going on about now?

“The children?” Taylor asked.

“Yes,” Darren said, glancing quickly over at me before squaring his jaw. “Those poor, defenseless children.”

“Right,” I said, praying that Darren knew where he was going with this. “The babies. The
homeless
babies. Addicted to crack. Needles in their arms, just wanting to chase that ever elusive high—”

He squeezed my hand really hard at that, and I knew I was going too far, but his hand felt nice and warm and
big
and then I couldn’t stop thinking about how they’d feel wrapped around my—

“The children are whom I’m trying to protect,” Taylor said, looking at both of us like we’d lost it. Which, to be fair, we just might have. “Though, I don’t know anything about the ones addicted to crack.”

“Right,” Darren said. “But you’re a big supporter of Casa de los Niños, right? And Angel Wings. Both of which are nonprofits geared toward low-income families. It just so happens that Jack It is also a supporter of the same nonprofits. Well, they will be. It was decided this year to do a fund drive.”

“Do what now?” I asked Darren in a low voice.

“You know, boo”—Darren looked as if he was trying very hard not to grind his teeth—“that stuff we talked about. With the thing.”

“Right. The stuff and things.” I had no idea where he was going with this. And I didn’t like it one bit because we’d
never
had a fundraiser for either of those places, nor did we plan to. Any money that was raised went to Wingspan or some other nonprofit with a LGBTQ focus.

“Really,” Taylor said, obviously not believing a word we were saying. “And what kind of fund drive are you planning on holding? We raise tens of thousands of dollars just by holding a gala dinner. You really think you can top that? How?”

And there I was, thinking about how I’d like to top Darren, because my mind was a stupid, stupid thing.

“It’s not a contest,” Darren said. “I just thought you should know you’d be taking money away from at-risk children by closing the club. Just another angle to think about.”

“Okay,” Taylor said. “But that still doesn’t answer my question on how you plan to do that. It’s not like you can hold your own dinner. So, enlighten me. What kind of fundraiser would you have?”

Since my life wasn’t
really
an eighties movie, I made the firm and swift resolution not to say the very first idea that popped into my head, because it was absolutely ridiculous. I mean, come one. Did we
really
need to have a drag bachelor auction where I could be the MC and peddle man flesh while wearing something fabulously erotic? Of course not. We didn’t
need
that at all.

But how I wanted it. How it
tantalized
me.

Sandy
, it whispered.
Say me out loud. Just do it. I know it sounds preposterous, but do it. Come on, you know you want to. Everyone wants you to say it. It’ll feel so good. Say it. Just a little. Just a little bit.

And I did.

I
did
.

Because I wanted it.

I wanted to wear that costume with the green feathers off the shoulders that was absolutely skintight and left nothing to the imagination. How amazing would I look in that? Why, I bet I could raise at least a million dollars off my look alone. And not to mention how perky my ass looked in it. That was another five hundred thousand right there.

You know. For the children.

I had to think of the children.

So while Darren opened his mouth to probably say something extraordinarily boring like having a bake sale (and there was never anything
sexy
about having a bake sale, even if the cakes were shaped like penises or balls or something), I made the firm and swift resolution to not let him embarrass himself (and by extension, myself) and said three words I never thought I’d get to say in my life out loud and not immediately be hit with a wave of groans.

“Drag bachelor auction,” I said.

Darren groaned.

Since it was only him that groaned, it did not constitute as a wave and therefore, I was still in the clear.

“Drag bachelor auction,” Taylor repeated dubiously.

“Drag bachelor auction,” I said again, because I couldn’t
not
say it now. It sounded
glorious
.

“And what is… that.”

I had to hand it to the mayor. I’d never really heard someone talk while at the same time sounding like they were going to vomit without actually vomiting. It was quite an accomplishment.

But it mattered not. Because
drag bachelor auction
. “We dress up men who don’t usually do drag and then auction them off as eligible bachelors. Whoever bids the highest wins a date with said drag bachelor. One hundred percent of the profits go to saving the children from Ebola or scurvy whatever it is those charities do. Mad cow disease? Oh. Right. Drug babies. The money will go to save little Cracky Crackerson.”

Darren was starting to look like he wished he could be anywhere than where he was. Which, you know.

Rude.

“You dress up men as women and then pimp them out, is what you’re saying,” Taylor said. Which was also rude, but entirely accurate.

“Of course not,” I said. “There is no pimping.” So much pimping. “It’s not about anything sexual.” There would probably be a lot of sex, if the people on the date were so inclined. “We just want everyone to have a good time and donate what they can.” Give money and you can have sex with a man in a dress was probably not the best slogan to have for a children’s charity fundraiser. I’d have to work on that. “It’s not that big of a deal.” It was a super big deal that I was going to have to do regardless. Mike was not going to be pleased. “Darren here is even participating.”

I really shouldn’t have said that.

“I’m sorry,” Taylor said, sounding aggrieved. “Can you repeat that?”

“Yes, Helena,” Darren said. “I think I’d like to hear that again too.” He also sounded aggrieved, but his was more from a place of violence than his father’s. It was a good thing I’d decided I had feelings for him, otherwise I might actually be scared. But I couldn’t see the fear past the stars in my eyes.

It also probably helped that I didn’t have any sense of self-preservation. “Darren’s going to dress up in drag and then I’m going to sell him.” I couldn’t help the glee that trickled into my voice at such a notion. It was going to be
amazing
.

The dressing him in drag part.

Not the auctioning him off part.

Because that didn’t sound good at all.

In fact, I rather hated that idea.

Not because of jealousy or anything.

Obviously.

“Yeah,” Darren said with a sigh. “I thought that’s what you said.”

“Why in God’s name would he do that?” Taylor asked incredulously. “Darren has a tad bit more self-respect than that.”

“Apparently I don’t,” Darren muttered.

I bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with drag.”

“Besides everything, you mean,” Taylor said. “It’s not natural.”

Darren moved my silverware away from me. It was disconcerting that he knew me well enough to remove forks from my reach when his father was insulting me. I was feeling very stabby again.

“There’s nothing
un
natural about it,” I said. “Drag performers have been around for centuries. When performing Shakespeare’s plays, all the roles, including those of women, were played by men. It’s not a sexual thing, or a gender-identity thing. It’s about performance.”

“Those men weren’t homosexual,” Taylor said.

“Right,” I said. “Because there are never any gay men in theater. What was I thinking?”

“It has nothing to do with self-respect,” Darren told his father. “If it helps raise some money for people who might not otherwise have it, then I have no problem with it.”

“But you’re not a bachelor,” Taylor pointed out. “Nor are you gay. Why would you let yourself be whored out like that?”

“I’m not being
whored
out,” Darren said with a growl. “It’s a friendly thing with absolutely none of the lasciviousness that you’ve apparently got stuck in your head. I do it because I want to, not because I’m forced to.”

I was surprised he was going along with this. And, of course, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d look like in drag. It would either be amazing or a train wreck. Most likely an amazing train wreck. With sequins and lipstick.

“And you’d
let
this happen?” Taylor said, looking at me.

I narrowed my eyes. “Darren does what he wants. I don’t own him.”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

“And?”

“He’d be going on a romantic rendezvous with another… man.”

“Yes, well. He knows what side his bread is buttered on. My side. In case you didn’t infer what I meant.”

Darren rolled his eyes. “And it’s not romantic. These
dates
are just meant to be conversation, a thank-you for the donation. I’m with Helena. I wouldn’t do anything with anyone else.”

Ow. That hit me right in my imaginary uterus. I wanted to have his babies.

That was an odd feeling to have.

Taylor shook his head. “I just don’t understand.”

“Oh. Well, it means his bread is buttered on
my
—”

“The homosexual thing.”

“Why would you have to get it?” I asked, honestly curious. “I mean,
I
get that you don’t agree with homosexuality, like it’s some kind of decision. I get that you’re conservative, and that’s your right to be. But something I’ve never understood about the argument against gay rights is how it has any effect on a straight person. Sanctity of marriage? Don’t get gay married. Disgusted by gay sex? Don’t have gay sex. Gay people having children? They’re not
your
children, so why does it matter? How do gay people with equal rights affect your life in any way, shape, or form?”

“The Bible is pretty clear on—”

“False,” I said. “The Bible also says women should be treated as an object and that it’s okay to have slaves. So. Unless you agree with that, you don’t get to pick and choose. And what you choose to believe in doesn’t mean you should be able to force that belief on others. Next.”

“Biology dictates—”

“The world is overpopulated as it is. Reproduction isn’t the necessary end goal for unions. What happens when a couple in their seventies want to get married? They can’t reproduce. So how is that couple getting married any different than allowing a gay couple to marry?”

Boom, motherfucker.

“Look,” Taylor said with a sigh. “It’s not as if I don’t see your points. I do. I really do. But the will of the people is what it is. I can’t argue against that.”

“You could,” I pointed out. “You just choose not to to maintain your office. But maybe you could try and show them a different way. People look up to you. You’re in a position of power and blah, blah, blah.”

“Elected position of power,” he reminded me. “Helena, you’re a very sweet girl, but I don’t think you understand how all of this works.”

“Wow,” Darren said. “I don’t think you could have been more condescending if you’d tried. Way to go. And for the record, she’s smarter than both of us combined.”

I tried desperately not to flush at that. I don’t know that I succeeded very well. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or playing his part. Either way, it shouldn’t have set me off like it did.

“That’s never been my intention,” Taylor said, that politician’s smile coming back out. I thought it might have been charming if I didn’t already know it was tempered by evil. “I simply wanted to enjoy lunch on a nice day with family. Is that so much to ask for?”

“Apparently,” Darren said. “I was talking to you about supporting charities and you asked Helena why she whored me out. So forgive me if I’m not enjoying lunch on a nice day with family.”

“Poor choice of words,” Taylor said. “Obviously, I was misconstrued. Or spoke out of turn, at the very least. Any support the charities can get is obviously a good thing. I only wish it could be under a different set of circumstances. I feel like we could be friends.”

Oh, that motherfucker was good. The right amount of pseudo-sincerity, and just a smidgen of oozing charm and—

Wait a minute.

What was it Mike had said?

Everyone knows Taylor is a betting man. He likes to make wagers. Got him into a lot of trouble years ago….

I was about to make this so much more ridiculous. I wondered if I could somehow parlay this entire experience into my own reality TV show on Bravo. I even already had the title picked out:
I’ll See You in Helena
. Cheeky, that. Also slightly dirty.

“Care to make it interesting?” I asked, sounding purposefully bored.

“And how’s that?” Taylor asked.