“I don’t know,” he said. Yeah, definitely grumpy. “She’s like my spirit animal. Or something.”
“Why are you giving me all this ammo against you when I don’t have time to do anything about it? What kind of bastard are you? Your spirit animal? You big freaking homo!”
“She is fresh and exciting!”
“She doesn’t look like she bathes regularly,” I said. “Like, if you touched her, she’d probably be sticky.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Hey. I’m not the one that gets a musical boner for Ke$ha. Because that’s just weird.”
“It’s not weird.”
“It’s totally weird.”
He sighed heavily into the phone. “You were right about one thing, though, I guess.”
“Of course I was. I’m right about most things. What was I right about this time?”
“It would be hard to convince anyone, much less my father, that I could get someone like you,” he muttered.
“Meep,” I squeaked.
“Did you just step on a cat?”
“Yes,” I said. “That’s exactly what happened. Stupid cat. I stepped on it and it made that weird noise you just heard. Good job.” Because I didn’t want to tell him that I’d instantly gotten a partial erection from him inferring that I was something he could never have. One does not tell their fake boyfriends that one has been given half a chub while standing in a drag queen’s closet holding a lavender pantsuit that looks like it came from the set of Designing Women.
“When did you get a cat?”
Why was everyone asking me that? I didn’t sound like—“Last week”—and I was lying, I was such a liar because this fake relationship was built on lies. “From the pound. His name is Kitten Von Whiskersnap De Martinez. He’s of German-Mexican descent.” Everything was a lie.
“I don’t even want to know,” he said.
“Good. Because you just dropped a hetero bomb on me and now in addition to being your fake boyfriend, I also have to be your fake girlfriend and somehow meet with your father to convince him you are in a stable, heteronormative relationship while trying to get him to agree to save a gay bar without actually telling him about the gay bar. Good! Fine! This will be just fucking perfect!”
“Hey, boo. You sound stressed.”
“I will literally castrate you, Darren. I really will.”
“If you wanted to touch my junk, all you had to do was ask.”
I sputtered quite magnificently into the phone, finally finishing with “I am not that easy” because it seemed like the only thing to say.
“Okay,” he said. “I believe you. Mostly. So, now would probably be a bad time to mention that Matty somehow wrangled my mother’s phone number out of me earlier this week, only to call her and invite her and I to Nana’s house for Thanksgiving this year because she told my mother we’re dating and that we’re sort of family now?”
“She did what!”
“Wow. I was wrong. You can get louder. That’s impressive. I’m impressed.”
“Your mother!”
“Yeah, so. I guess it’ll just be this whole family experience because my mom says she can’t wait to meet you. Great, right? Ha-ha. Lucky you. I’m sure everything will be just fine. Oh look at the time. I suddenly remembered I have to go do something and not be on the phone with you anymore. I’ll see you tomorrow night at your show. Bye, boo.”
“Darren! Darren!”
But he’d already hung up the phone.
And you know what?