The Queen & the Homo Jock King (43 page)

Darren Mayne was a stubborn motherfucker.

He said, “No.”

“No,” I repeated.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not okay.”

“I don’t think you—”

He looked up at me. “It’s not okay because I don’t
want
that.”

“I don’t
care
what you—”

“Yes, you do.” He looked far more determined than I expected someone in his position to be. “But you have every right to not want me. And that’s fine. You have every right to tell me no. And you should, if that’s what you truly want. But I swear to god, Sandy, I’m going to show you every reason why you should say yes.”

I gaped at him because what the
hell
was going on?

“I was an asshole,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand in his. “I probably still am, to be honest. I can’t change the past. But I
will
apologize for it every day if that’s what’s needed. Because I know what I want. And I’m going to do everything I can to get it. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of not having what I want.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demanded.

“Rule ten.” His lips quirked into that cocky grin that I both liked and hated at the same time. “The best rule out of all of them for this little game we’re playing. I’m going to make sure you know
exactly
what I want from you.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

And then he leaned forward and kissed me, swift and dirty, and I had no time to react one way or another. Somehow, he’d been able to spin us around, me with my back to the room, him at the door. He opened it, turned, and had the
audacity
to say “Besides, you still have to meet my mother at Thanksgiving” before winking and slamming the door behind him as he walked down the stairs.

“You overdramatic son of a bitch,” I breathed, rather impressed.

And still horribly, horribly aroused.

God
dam
mit.

THANKSGIVING PROMISED
to be loud and raucous, given that we were having it at Paul’s parents’ house. I was almost dreading meeting Darren’s mother, going further along with this charade, even though it now smacked of something completely different. I’d seen Darren a handful of times since then, but always around people that knew us, so he doted on me beautifully, his hand in mine, his kiss against my cheek.

I saw Caleb at the club a couple more times when I was performing, always standing with the homo jocks, eyeing Darren appreciatively. Darren, for his part, didn’t do anything as blatant as he’d done that first night. He always maintained a careful distance from Caleb, even while Caleb kept trying to insinuate himself into Darren’s social circle. I’d asked around a bit more about Caleb, but all anyone was able to tell me was that he was some kind of web developer and that he seemed to have a taste for large, muscular men. Which, okay. That was fine. Because I wouldn’t knock him for his taste. However, I
would
knock him into next fucking week if he didn’t stop his goddamned Pavlovian response anytime Darren was near.

Paul said he thought Darren had been trying to make me jealous and that I then tried to make
him
jealous by using Brian, which was completely ridiculous. And also was exactly what happened, though I didn’t understand why Darren was jealous in the first place. Paul said it probably had something to do with Brian, seeing as how I was a douchebag and using Brian in some kind of revenge plot. Paul was of the mind that Darren and I deserved each other, but redeemed himself when he accidentally tripped and spilled his entire vodka cranberry down the front of Caleb’s white dress shirt. He apologized profusely, saying he’d always been awkward and he would totally pay for the dry cleaning and maybe Caleb should just go clean up because cranberry juice could be so
sticky
. But then he’d caught my eye and winked at me and I knew I’d picked him as a best friend for a reason. Because he was a bitch. Just like me.

And he seemed so fucking
earnest
while doing so, like there was nothing more in the world he wanted more than making sure the twinky sharks stopped circling Darren’s chum. And that killed me, because I knew the moment he found out that this was all fake was going to hurt him. Or, rather, it would hurt me because he’d probably come after me with a baseball bat, accusing me of perpetrating the largest mass Freddie Prinze Junioring event in the known world.

Whatever that meant. I still wasn’t clear what Paul’s obsession with Freddie Prinze Junior was.

But since I was still Meryl Streeping the shit out of this, I was able to keep it hidden from him, waiting for the inevitable day when it would all blow up in my face in an explosion of glitter and angst, just like the perfect gay storm finally coming down overhead.

THE BEGINNING
of the end started with a group of texts.

Mom’s in town and excited to meet you

I told her you said that I’m the light of your life

And that you can’t imagine a world without me

Showed her a photo of you as Helena

She thinks you’re very pretty either way

She wants to bake something for Thanksgiving

I told her not to, that Matty and Larry had everything planned

She told me I was ridiculous

Because apparently you ALWAYS have to bring something

It’s only polite

Then she smacked me upside the head and made me go buy pies

I’m bringing pie

I told her about the drag bachelor auction

She laughed until she cried

So thanks for that

It was odd. My parents were dead, but I had my surrogates, thanks to Paul. Kori’s parents were only God knows where, but she had us. Vince had already been adopted by Larry and Matty because he belonged to them just as much as Paul and I did.

And Darren. Darren, whose mother thought I was very pretty as either Sandy or Helena. His mother who’d met a man named Andrew Taylor and gotten involved, not knowing he was married and had a kid out of it.

But Darren still had her. And he seemed to love her very much.

So I was going to make it my mission to impress the hell out of her. Granted, I’d have the safety net of being surrounded by everyone else, so I wouldn’t have to worry about any one-on-one time, at least not right away.

Me:
Tell her thank you for me.

Darren:
Already did
.
After I told her not to stroke your ego.

Me:
Rude

Darren:
Truth. But she’s going to love you. BTW, we’re coming to pick you up

Me:
What?

Darren:
She wants to meet you without everyone else around

Me:
WHAT?

Darren:
We’ll be there at one

Me:
WHAT?!?!? DARREN!!!

Darren:
I agree. It’ll be… quieter, that’s for sure

Me:
ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME!!!!!

Darren:
You’ll be fine. Good night ;-)

Me:
WINKIE FACE?????

Me:
YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE THIS BETTER WITH WINKIE FACE????

Me:
DARREN!!!!!!!!

Me:
I’M CALLING YOU. YOU BETTER ANSWER

Me:
WHY IS YOUR FUCKING PHONE TURNED OFF

Me:
DARREN

Me:
DARREN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me:
YOU MOTHERFUCKER

“REMEMBER LAST
night when I held you in my arms and told you everything was going to be all right?” I asked Corey as he continued to laugh at me. “I take it all
back
. Stop fucking laughing!”

“This is amazing,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You’re
nervous
.”

“Bullshit! I don’t
get
nervous!”

Which, sure. That was a lie. Because here I stood, in my closet, getting slightly shrieky as I riffled through everything I owned, trying to find something to wear that said to Darren’s mother that I was
respectable
, that I had
never
thought of her son naked, and that Darren and I were completely and one hundred percent in love with each other, so much so that we had stars in our eyes and rainbows falling out of our asses. I couldn’t do that in
paisley
and why the fucking hell did I own so much
paisley
?

“Maybe you should just—”

“If the next words out of your mouth are anything but how to
fix
this, I swear to god I’ll punch you in the dick.”

Corey rolled his eyes and pushed his way into the closet. “Black dress slacks.” He pointed at a pair on a hanger. “Light blue dress shirt. Dark blue tie.”

I gaped at him. “You perform
miracles
.”

“I’ve been known to,” he said. “Now, hurry up. They’ll be here soon. I’m going to head out and pick up Charlie before heading over. Do you need anything before I go?”

“No,” I said with a sniff. “I’m fine. I’m perfectly capable of acting like a functional adult.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll see you over there, yeah?”

“Tell everyone they need to be on their best behavior,” I called after him as he left the room. “I’m
serious
. They can’t do
anything
to embarrass me!”

“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll make sure I get right on that. Best behavior and all that.”

“This is going to be a disaster,” I muttered as I pulled the slacks off the hanger.

I’d barely finished tying my tie when the doorbell rang at a quarter till one. I glared up at the ceiling, because Darren was a fucking
liar
who showed up
early
, and no self-respecting gay man
ever
showed up
early
. Which meant either he was
not
a self-respecting gay man, or (and more likely) he was trying to fuck with me and throw me off because he was an
asshole
.

I frantically gave myself a once-over in the hallway mirror, sure his mom was going to see my wide eyes and flushed appearance and assume I was hooked on the bathroom crack, just like Darren had asked me after meeting his father. When one sees they look like they do bathroom crack, it’s hard for one to think of anything else.

“I don’t look like I do bathroom crack,” I muttered to myself as I approached the door. “I don’t look like I do bathroom crack. I don’t look like I do—” I opened the door with the most perfectly fixed smile on my face that showed I was absolutely
not
a bathroom crack addict. “Hiiiii. It’s so nice to see you. Welcome to my home. Please, come in! Come in. How lovely all this is. Wonderful. Just
wonderful
.”

Darren, that motherfucker, knew
exactly
what my bathroom crack face meant, and I glared at him for a split second, making sure he understood that his death was imminent. Either I wasn’t as intimidating as I thought I was or he’d gotten used to being threatened by me; neither scenario boded well for our future. There would need to be a course correction, and soon.

Which, of course, led to thoughts of Darren bare-assed and spread over my knee as I administered one heck of a spanking. I don’t know why I automatically went there when thinking corporal punishment. It was unfortunate, given that apparently the idea of such a thing was very amenable to me, seeing as how I found myself dry-mouthed and on the verge of getting hard.

It didn’t help that Darren, in his tight dress pants and green button-down with the sleeves rolled up, finished off with a black silk tie that I thought would look great wrapped around his wrists and tied to my bedposts, looked like pretty much every fantasy I’d ever begrudgingly had about him. He looked strong and sexy as fuck, and I hated every single goddamn inch of him for making me think so. And I resolutely didn’t focus on his thighs, no matter what kind of a kink he supposedly thought I had for them.

“Hey,” he said, grin widening like he knew
exactly
what was going through my head. He stepped right in front of me, slightly crowding me against the door like he had any right to. He leaned in and placed a lingering kiss at the corner of my mouth that I might or might not have reciprocated (for science! Or keeping up with the charade! I had no fucking clue anymore!). He broke the kiss and dragged his nose along my cheek. “You look… good,” he breathed in my ear, bringing with it the reminder this was the closest we’d been to each other since he’d undressed me in the Queen’s Lair and then had followed it up with stupid and confusing words that I found were easier to ignore rather than dissect.

“Thanks,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat and tried again, dropping my voice. “Thanks.” That came out sounding like I’d smoked six packs a day for forty years.

That smirk only grew.

But before I could get any kind of revenge (a knee to the balls came to mind), he stepped away from me and said, “Sandy. This is my mom, Sherry. Mom, this is Sandy.”

I apparently didn’t know what to expect, and it was only when I saw her for the first time that I realized I’d never seen so much as a picture of her before.

Sherry Mayne was a diminutive woman, barely above five feet, which was slightly hysterical given the size of her son. Like Darren, she was lightly colored, with beautiful shots of gray lined through her hair. She was wonderfully curved, to the point where she could be considered plump, but looked as strong as anything. I knew she was a nurse, so it was probably a safe bet she could kick my ass any day of the week.

She was really rather beautiful, despite her age. Maybe even because of it. Her bright eyes were on me and I knew this was the only chance I had to make a first impression, so I steeled myself, got ready to gush and compliment her on everything. But then, of course, I got distracted by what she was wearing and instead said, “Oh my god, I have that same skirt. I wear it when I do my naughty schoolgirl routine at Jack It. It brings all the boys to my yard.”