The Queen & the Homo Jock King (61 page)

I had questions, and I needed them answered.

It wasn’t long before the door to the Lair opened again. The music in the club was prerecorded for this Sunday afternoon, the bar open downstairs and outside for the karaoke that Georgia O’Queef was covering for me. Day drinkers sang loudly and I could hear the bursts of laughter as they butchered their way through the song catalog.

I didn’t turn when Darren walked in, staying where I was, facing the mirror on the vanity, my makeup wipes left unopened on the tabletop.

He said, “Hey.”

“Hi,” I murmured back, unable to meet his eyes in the mirror.

I heard the door shut behind him and the telltale
click
of a lock sliding into place. I swallowed thickly but otherwise remained outwardly unaffected. Inside, I was pretty sure I was on my way to a meltdown and didn’t know how to stop it.

“I figured it out,” he said, staying by the door. Which was probably for the best. For now.

“Figured what out?”

“Why you disappeared. Why you changed. Why you started acting like you didn’t give two shits about me. Right after Thanksgiving too.”

“Oh,” I said, because apparently we were getting right into it.

“There’s nothing between Caleb and I.”

“So you’ve said.”

“There never was.”

“Does he know that?”

“He does. Almost from the very beginning.”

“The texts. On your phone.”

He let out a slow breath. “So that’s what it was. I should have known it—”

“I didn’t mean to snoop,” I admitted. “I was picking up your phone to move it and I saw his name come up on the screen and before I knew what I was doing, I was reading the messages.”

“So instead of asking me about them you… what. Assumed something and tried to push me away?” I could tell he was frustrated, and while I could admit that was mostly my doing, he wasn’t completely blameless, either.

“You’d never given me a reason to trust you,” I said stiffly. “In fact, you did quite the opposite.”

He laughed, but the edges were bitter, rough. “And that’s on me. I know that. I was stupid. I was young and cocky and so goddamned immature. I fucked up. I’m sorry. No one should ever be made to feel less than they are, and I’ve hated myself every day since that moment.”

“Why?”

“Did I do it?”

“Yeah.” I finally looked up at him in the mirror, only to see him looking sad, arms crossed protectively over his chest. He was staring down at the floor, shoulders slumped.

“Because I was an asshole,” he finally said. “Still am, if we’re being honest.”

“We are,” I said. “Because that’s all that will be acceptable from here on out.”

He nodded, but still didn’t look up. “I thought I was better than everyone else. I thought I was the motherfucking shit. I thought I could get away with doing whatever I wanted to whoever I wanted. I liked you, but the only way I knew how to show that was to be a dick. That, and the fact I was with the other homo jocks, it just snowballed from there. I thought I was being funny.”

“You weren’t.”

“I know that,” he said. “The moment the words left my mouth, I knew that.”

“You made me feel like I was worthless.”

His arms tightened around him.

“You made me feel like I was nothing.”

His shoulders tensed.

“I accept your apology.”

He looked up, eyes wide and shocked. “What?”

I shrugged. “I forgive you for being a dickbag.” I was surprised how easy it was.

“Why?”

“Would you prefer I didn’t?”

“No,” he said hastily. “No, that’s perfectly fine. That’s
better
than fine. That’s… that’s good.”

I snorted, trying to ignore my happily fluttering heart because as much as I wanted to believe, I was
not
a Disney Princess, for fuck’s sake. If anything, I was the evil queen, but even evil queens should get their happily-ever-after butt sex.

“The texts?”

He took a step toward me now, slowly and cautiously, which, honestly, was slightly ridiculous, given the fact that he licked my asshole an hour before in public. I almost laughed at him, unable to keep down this giddy feeling that was burning through me. There was still much I had to say to him, things I needed to know. And I thought there was a very real chance I might get to hear it, if I could simply get over my hang-ups and just ask.

“The money,” Darren said. “It was all about the money. Caleb invented this app for iPhones that stores burrito recipes or solves world hunger. Or something. I don’t really know. All that mattered was that he is rich and wanted me to fuck him. I corrected the second thing while asking for the first. I know that there’s a very real chance that my dad will beat us, but I wanted to make sure I did what I could to help you save this place. I know what it means to you. I know it belongs to you just as much as it did Vaguyna, and I didn’t want to see you lose that.”

I took in a sharp breath.

“And I told him to bid on me,” he continued. “For as much as he could. I agreed to go on a date with him, and yes, he tried to make it more, but I shut that down. Quickly. He knows where I belong. And who I belong with.”

It made sense. It was an easy explanation. And as much as I wanted to push him on it, I didn’t have the strength to do so anymore. I was tired of fighting against what I wanted. I was tired of lying. Telling myself I didn’t feel the way I did about him. Telling him I hated him. And worse, acting like I did.

“Mike said something to me,” I said, and Darren was
right
behind me. I could see his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to reach out and touch me but couldn’t quite get himself to do so.

“What did he say?”

“He said you were always here. At every one of my shows.”

He blushed, and it was probably the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. “I was. I am.” He coughed and scratched the back of his neck. “I will be.”

“I’m not her,” I said quietly, watching his reaction in the mirror. “Not all the time. Not even most of the time. I can’t be Helena. It takes too much out of me.”

He finally met my gaze, looking confused. “Why would I….” He shook his head. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Hey!” I said, glaring at him. “What the fuck! You’re supposed to be
wooing
me.”

He rolled his eyes. “You already said you were wooed when I ate you out behind Poco’s.”

“Wow, that’s not a sentence I ever expected to hear anyone say to me,” I marveled.

Darren grinned. “I aim to please.”

“There has to be continuous wooing,” I said. “You should know right now that I am high-maintenance, and I have absolutely no plans in changing that.”

“Really,” he said dryly. “I couldn’t have guessed that just by looking at you.”

“Rude,” I said. “But true. Now, let’s go back to the part where you were trying to get into my pants and you thought it was a good idea to insult me. And then we’ll talk about how there will be an unexpected fisting in your future if you try that again.”

“Unexpected fisting?” he asked, eyebrows climbing almost to his hairline. “What the hell is that?”

“Um, it’s pretty self-explanatory. One day you’re going to get fisted. Unexpectedly. Get with the program, Mayne.”

“How are you even going to pull off unexpect—you know what? I don’t even want to know.”

I smiled sweetly at him. “That’s a good boy. Now tell me more how I’m a fucking idiot.”

He reached down and rested his hands on my shoulders, squeezing lightly before he turned me around on the stool slowly until I was eye level with his crotch. I really wasn’t complaining. I thought about pressing my face against him, just to see what would happen, but I was more curious as to what he intended to do. He stood above me, looking down, a strange expression on his face before he reached behind me and grabbed the makeup wipes. He pulled another stool over and set it in front of me. He sat on it so we were face to face.

I was nervous, unsure what was happening, and I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic or biting, but I swallowed it away at the intensity on his face. He was focused, but on what I couldn’t yet say.

He put the package of wipes in his mouth, holding them in place with his teeth. Our knees knocked together, my bare skin against his denim-clad. It was rough, but it grounded me, making the moment less surreal.

Because here was a man, for all intents and purposes a selfish man, watching me like I might be the greatest thing in the world.

He reached for me, and I didn’t even think to flinch. He grabbed the edges of my stool and pulled me slowly toward him, spreading his legs wide to accommodate both of mine between. We were close now, almost unbearably so.

He took the wipes from his mouth and set them in his lap.

He said, “You think that I would only want you when you’re Helena.”

My skin felt hot and stretched too thin, like I was brittle. I didn’t agree or disagree with him, merely breathed shallowly, wondering where this was heading.

But yes. Part of me thought that.

He didn’t seem to need a response. He brought his hands to either side of my face again, thumbs brushing against my cheeks. Then, just as carefully, he reached up, fingers between the wig and my scalp, tugging on it gently. He unfastened the pins that held it in place, setting them on the vanity behind me. Once it was loose, he pulled it from my head, carefully setting it back behind us. I wanted to admonish him and make sure it was put on the mannequin head I kept for my wigs, but I couldn’t seem to find my voice to say so. He studied me for a moment, eyes searching for something that I wasn’t privy to. It should have been more uncomfortable than it was, being so closely watched. Those blue eyes I knew so well flickered across my face.

He must have found what he was looking for, because he nodded to himself and reached for me again, this time going for the wig cap. He slid it off my head and it fell behind me, almost immediately forgotten.

His hands were in my matted-down hair, fingers rubbing gently over my scalp. I closed my eyes at the sensation, his fingernails dragging deliciously along my skin.

“You think that I want you to be this,” he said quietly. “All the time.”

I chose to believe it was rhetorical, because I didn’t trust myself to speak, unsure of what words would come out or if my voice would break. Because yes. That’s what I thought.

His hands fell away and it took me a moment to open my eyes. His legs pressed against mine and all the other sounds of the club were muted and soft. Someone was warbling along to an old Paula Abdul song and there was the clink of bottles in the bar, but it felt far away from where we were.

Darren opened the packet of wipes, taking one out and setting the rest back on his lap. He gripped my chin with one hand and brought the wipe up with the other, starting at my eyebrows. He used a firm hand, almost like he knew what he was doing, like he’d been doing this for years.

“I remember,” he said as he began to wipe away Helena, “the first time I saw you.”

I did too, something seared into my memory, but it wasn’t about me, right then.

“You were this… fierce thing,” he said, moving the wipe to my left eye, pressing carefully to the eyelid. “Tall and gorgeous and fucking bitchy as all hell.” He set the wipe down behind me and then pulled out another. He started in on the other eye. “And I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything as amazing as you before.”

My throat clicked audibly as I wondered where this was leading to. Because he was talking about Helena, not me.

“You were with Paul,” he continued. “Though I didn’t know who he was at the time. All I wanted to do was find out who you were.”

He finished with my eyes and used another wipe on my cheeks. My lips, though, there wasn’t much lipstick left.

He didn’t say much more until he’d finished. By the time he sat back, my skin felt raw and my heart was tripping all over itself in my chest.

“And then you disappeared,” he said. “But you came back. As her.”

I froze.

He sighed and took my hands in his. “You were Sandy when I first saw you,” he said, squeezing my fingers. “You were Helena when I saw you again.” His eyes darted away. “And you were Sandy when I was an asshole. That was on me, and I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive myself for that.” He took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I don’t care if you’re Helena. I don’t care if you never put on a wig again. I will take anything you’re willing to give me. But just know that it was you I saw first, Sandy. Not her. I don’t need her or whatever division you think exists. I don’t want just part of you. I want all of you.”

“Holy fucking balls,” I breathed. “Who the fuck
are
you?”

That cocky smirk reappeared. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of another boy, asking you—”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.”

“It sounded good, right?”

“You don’t want just part of me, you want all of me. How is it possible to get a boner from
words
?”

“What?” he choked out. “I don’t—”

“That shouldn’t even be a real thing, yet here we are. You with your fucking words and me with a goddamned boner. It’s a good thing I untucked before you got here.”

His eyes bulged attractively. In fact, I was finding pretty much everything attractive about him at that moment. Apparently, I had a weakness for men who wiped away my makeup and then told me they wanted me for me. Who would have thought? Surely not I. Especially with those words coming from the Homo Jock King.

“What’s rule ten?” I asked.

He let out a burst of shaky laughter. “Rule ten.”

Feeling more confident, I said, “Vince told me what he thought it was.”

Darren rolled his eyes. “Of course he did.” Then, “Wait. What? What do you mean Vince told you about rule—”

“Oh yeah, they know all about this,” I said rather gleefully. “Apparently Charlie and Mike spilled the beans last night after your twink bid millions of dollars to try and sleep with you.”

“Nothing about that sentence is even remotely accurate.”

“The Mike and Charlie part is.”

Darren buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Of course they know.”