The Queen & the Homo Jock King (8 page)

He said, “Now, now. No need to be crass.”

I said, “If I had a switchblade, I would give very serious consideration to stabbing you.”

He said, “Remind me never to tip you in switchblades, then.”

“Pity, that.”

“Take the money, Helena.”

“I don’t want your goddamn money.”

“You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“Now I do.”

“My money is just as good as anyone else’s.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

“I hear there’s brunch tomorrow.”

“You’re not invited.”

“That’s not what Paul said.”

“Paul doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

“So, same time as usual?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I bared my teeth, pressing them against the side of his neck.

Darren chuckled, tugging on my hand, pulling me closer. I could feel the heat of him through the vinyl. “You wouldn’t believe the things I dare to do,” he whispered in my ear, and I
hated
him.

“If you show up, I’ll poison you.”

I thought I felt his lips near my ear. “So there
is
an invitation, then.”

“I would not be sad if you fell off a cliff,” I said.

“So violent.” His grip tightened on my hand. “Take the fucking money.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I chuckled. “Because
that’s
an incentive if I ever heard one.” I took the money from where he’d pressed it against my palm. His fingers trailed against my wrist as I pulled away. I grinned at him as I stepped back. His eyes looked hooded and darker than normal. His tongue darted out along his bottom lip.

It did nothing for me.

Absolutely nothing.

Making sure I had his attention, I wadded up the twenty-dollar bill and tossed it at his feet.

His eyes hardened.

His jaw twitched.

I winked at him and moved on.

Paul, Vince, and Kori were watching me with wide eyes, and only then did I realize that the remix was starting to wrap up, which meant I’d been standing cheek to cheek with Darren for at least three minutes. My smile turned razor sharp as I leaned over to kiss Paul on the cheek. “Remember your thirtieth birthday when I pulled you up on stage without you knowing?” I murmured in his ear. “I asked you how pissed you were on a scale of one to ten. Do you remember what you said?”

“Seventy-two,” Paul said.

“That’s right. Good boy. This is worse.”

“Just remember how much I love you,” he said.

“I’ll try to remember that when I’m bathing in your blood.”

“Vicious and descriptive. I like it.”

“This isn’t finished.”

“And now it’s ominous.”

I kissed him again, because even if I wanted him dead, he was my best friend and I loved him so.

I made my way back toward the stage, one of the barbacks handing me a microphone. The music flourished as I posed on stage, a statuesque paragon of sin and majesty. The crowd loved it, as I knew they would. I flipped a switch on the microphone and welcomed everyone to Helena Handbasket’s Debauched and Delicious Revue. I glanced back to where Darren had been standing. His homo jocks were there, but he was gone.

I smiled on.

THE OTHERS
were waiting for me on the back patio after I’d completed my wardrobe change, seated in the ridiculous wicker furniture Mike had insisted on getting. I had argued against it. He’d reminded me it was his bar. I had rolled my eyes and told him people most certainly didn’t come to see
him
. He bought the furniture anyway. He counted it as a victory. I’d told him that nobody won with wicker furniture.

Paul and Vince were gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes when I made my way through the crowd. Kori was staring at them, looking slightly ill, which meant that they were being even more disgustingly cute than normal. I’d tried to warn her when she first came to Tucson, and even regaling her with the tale that was the Love Ballad of Paul and Vince hadn’t really prepared her for the sheer level of sugary fluff that was shoved down her throat.

But that was okay. If anyone deserved something shoved down their throat, it was Paul.

I was happy for him.

Most of the time.

Now was not one of those times.

“You vile betrayer,” I hissed at him, looming over them. I was pretty sure I looked absolutely amazing and intimidating, like an Amazonian drag princess warrior. Or something.

“Helena.” Paul smiled up at me. “You look amazing as always and your show was as perfect as it’s ever been. There was absolutely nothing I would change about it. Also? Your ass looks amazing in that skirt. Is it new?”

Paul knew that a drag queen’s greatest weakness was sincere compliments from the heart. He fought dirty.

“Why thank you,” I said. “The energy just felt good in there tonight, and this old thing? Nah, I just pulled this out of my closet and threw it on. It really isn’t anything special—
wait a goddamn minute
.”

“Shit,” Paul said. “I thought that would work.”

“Has it ever worked?” Kori asked, sounding amused.

“In the years that I’ve known Sandy? Seventeen times.”

“Stand up and face me like a man!”

“Said the drag queen,” Vince said. “Which is awesome.”

Paul stood up, which I gave him credit for. Most people don’t want to come face to face with a raging queen. It usually ended in running mascara, torn acrylic nails, and glitter in odd places. “Why are you pissed?” he asked.

“Because!” I said shrilly.

“Because….”

“You were standing next to that… that…
man
.”

“Oh boy.”

“And you invited him to
brunch
. Paul, brunch is a sacred institution with limited invites, as you are well aware. The fact that I already allowed this mistake to happen once with no repercussions is obviously as much my fault as it is yours. I have failed you as a best friend, and I’m sorry. I should have been quicker to punish you so such things would never happen again.”

“I literally have no idea where you’re going with this,” Paul said.

“I think this is how her sex dream started,” Vince whispered to Kori. “Because Helena had a sex dream about me.”

“I know, Vince,” Kori said. “I was there, remember?”

Vince shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t remember much about that night because I’d been asleep and then Paul gave me a really sloppy blow job afterward.”

“Vince!” Paul snapped. “Oversharing!”

Vince pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. “It
was
sloppy. And awesome.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Vince grinned.

“Does he have a gag reflex?” Kori whispered.

“Used to.” Vince waggled his eyebrows.

“Huh,” I said begrudgingly. “Impressive.”

Paul shrugged. “I’m good like that.”

“You know what else you’re good for?”

“What?”

“
Nothing
,” I snarled at him.

“Ooh.” He rolled his eyes. “Well played.”

“Paul!”

“Helena!”

“I don’t want him there!”

“You made that pretty clear when you threw his money back at his feet,” Paul said. “Which, honestly, was bitchy. Even for you.”

Yeah. And maybe I felt slightly bad about that. For fuck’s sake. “He was playing me.”

“How?”

“I don’t know! I’m not one to understand the deviousness of the mind of a homo jock, much less their
king
. But he was up to something, I just know it. And I’m going to get to the bottom of it, mark my words.”

“He would have gotten away with it too,” Vince said, “if it hadn’t been for you meddling queens.”

“I’m teaching him sarcasm,” Paul said as I gaped at Vince.

“I’m learning to be a bitch,” Vince said proudly.

“You’re definitely learning from the right people.” Kori patted his hand.

“And it’s just brunch,” Paul said. “He’s Vince’s brother and he doesn’t have family here aside from him. Well, not that counts, anyway.” And I had to give Paul credit for that. And Vince too. Because Vince and Darren came from the loins of evil that was the Republican mayor of Tucson, Andrew Taylor. Andrew Taylor, who had backed the anti-immigration bill SB1070 and was one of the architects of a LGBTQ-phobic bill disguised as a religious freedom act that got all the way up to the governor before being vetoed last year. Mike, the owner of Jack It, had told me there’d even been some rumblings about a revitalization project of downtown Tucson where the club was located that didn’t seem to include Jack It at all. He already had his attorneys looking into it just in case the city council tried to fuck him over or worse. Since Jack It was part of the historic district, the lease was owned by the county. Mike had to tread a very thin line between backing his community and kissing red-taped ass.

And Darren, while disagreeing with his father completely, wasn’t out to him and wasn’t a recognized member of Taylor’s family, given that he was the product of an affair. And to make matters worse, Darren
worked
for his father, though not in any official capacity. He was employed by the city as an actuary, and even though he didn’t report to Taylor directly, just the fact that he worked for the government and knew the same people his father knew was enough to make me despise him just a little bit more.

And feel slightly bad for him too. Whatever.

But I didn’t see what that had to do with
brunch
. I told Paul as much.

Paul shrugged. “I just thought it’d be nice, is all. You know, you could stand being nicer too.”

“I’m the nicest person you know,” I retorted. “And when have I
ever
needed to be nice?”

“Drag queens are contradictions,” Vince told Kori.

“It’s just in their nature,” Kori said.

“Just brunch,” Paul said.

I growled at him. “Fine. But he’s not getting any of my frittata.”

“Heh,” Kori said. “That sounded dirty.”

“Darren wants all of Helena’s frittata,” Vince said.

“Control your boyfriend,” I barked at Paul.

“Yeah,” Vince said. “Control me, Paul.”

“Not in front of Helena,” Paul said. “We don’t want her to get confused when her sex dream starts coming to life.”

“It’s not the first time someone has had a sex dream about me,” Vince said. “When I was in my senior year of high school, my Spanish teacher, Señora Gomez, told me that she’d had dreams about my thighs in Spanish.”

“Wait,” Kori frowned. “The dreams were in Spanish or she told you this while speaking Spanish?”

“Both,” Vince said. “It was very uncomfortable.”

“Did you sleep with her?” Paul asked, sounding scandalized.

“She was seventy-four,” Vince said.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Paul asked.

“No, Paul. I didn’t sleep with her.”

“I don’t see what age has to do with anything.
I’m
still going to want to sleep with you when I’m seventy-four.”

“Old-people sex,” Vince said. “I’m down with that.” He reached up and pulled on Paul’s hand until he sat on Vince’s lap.

“You’ll be in your Rascal,” Paul said, running his fingers through Vince’s hair. “And we’ll need bars attached in the bathrooms to help us get up after we’ve taken a shit.”

“You’ll probably need a walker,” Vince said. “With those little tennis balls on the front.”

“God, that’s so hot.” Paul started macking on Vince’s face.

“Ugh,” Kori said. “Not again.”

“You get used to it,” I said. “Mostly.” I sighed, because if Darren was going to be at brunch tomorrow, I needed to find him and invite him myself. It was only polite, even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Where’s Darren?” I asked Kori.

Kori cocked her head at me. “You care?”

I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Hardly.”

“Why do you hate him so much?”

Ah. Wasn’t
that
the question. I had my reasons. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you someday.”

Kori shrugged. “He left. Had some guy pressed up against a wall and they left together.”

“Twink du jour,” I muttered. And it didn’t bother me in the slightest. Whatever or
who
ever Darren chose to do with his time had nothing to do with me.

And while that most certainly did not explain the twinge in my chest, that was fine. It was most likely gas. I might have been a lady, but I was still a man, after all.

AND IT
probably didn’t help that I decided to get shitfaced after that.

And it probably
really
didn’t help when this hot little muscle otter came up and whispered in my ear that he was one of my biggest fans.

And it most certainly didn’t help that I was feeling slightly sorry for myself.

And he had dimples.

And crinkles around his eyes when he smiled.

And, from the feel of it when he pressed up against my ass, at least a good seven inches.

I didn’t really remember much after that.

I WOKE
to a pounding headache, someone who had an obvious death wish pounding on my bedroom door, makeup smeared on my pillow, my mouth tasting like death, my jaw aching, and generally a feeling that if the world ended right now, I’d be okay with it.

“Kill me,” I moaned.

An arm tightened around my waist.

Someone grunted next to me.

My eyes snapped open.

“Sandy,” Corey called through the door. “Are you getting up anytime soon?”

My phone vibrated on the nightstand.

The man in my bed coughed.

“Uh,” I said. “This is awkward.”

My ass was sore. So, at least I knew the guy had fucked me. Or done something to my ass. That was a start.

My phone stopped buzzing.

And then started buzzing again.

I picked it up, squinting at the screen. It was blurry and bright and I couldn’t make out a single thing.

“What?” I growled into the phone.

“Finally,” Paul said. “Why didn’t you answer your phone? I need to know if you need me to bring orange juice for the mimosas.”