“But I think you’re just projecting.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.”
I shrug. “It’s got to be hard to have to act like a jerk all the time, all high and mighty, only to have lost your heart to a drag queen who despises every fiber of your being.”
Except I really don’t think said drag queen does. I’m so glad I can pick up on all other people’s problems instead of focusing on my own.
“I didn’t lose jack shit, kid. Go on, get the fuck outta here.”
Time to go. It’s probably a good time to remember my size and place. He could squash me with one hand, I’m sure. He is the Homo Jock King, after all.
But, as always, as I move to leave, my mouth moves without any provocation. “You’ll lose him,” I say. “If you don’t take the chance. Someone else will come along and sweep him off his feet, and you’ll be left alone to wonder why you didn’t have the balls to do more to make sure he didn’t belong to anyone else but you.”
“Funny, that,” he says, cocking his head. “I could say the same thing to you. What the fuck are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? Stop being a whiny little flip-flopping bitch and make up your goddamn mind. Or,” he says, getting up in my space, bumping his legs against mine, “maybe I should find out tonight what bacon tastes like. He’s not my type—too big and bulky—but hell, he’s got a mouth and hole I can use. You mind if I borrow him, kid? Not to sweep him off his feet, of course.” He grins. “Well, maybe onto his back.”
I leave the Homo Jock King behind in the shadows.
SAGE THE Fifth:
“I don’t like getting drunk,” Vince tells me after the show. We’re sitting on the back patio, waiting for everyone else to come out. “One time, I got drunk and fell down at a party and somehow my pants came off and it turned into this whole big thing.”
Well, maybe not quite a sage.
“That’s… epic,” I say, for lack of anything better.
“People didn’t seem to mind, which was weird. So, you’re smart, huh?”
“That’s what I hear. Though I’ve been questioning that more and more.”
“Huh. I’m not smart.”
“You seem perfectly smart to me.” Sort of. But who am I to judge?
“Nah,” he says easily. “I say dumb shit all the time.”
“So do I. That has nothing to do with intelligence. Trust me on that.”
Paul pushes his way through the crowd. Vince lights up and pulls him down onto his lap and puts his face into his neck. He whispers something, to which Paul replies, “Yeah, because that worked so well last time. Wheels likes to watch. He’s a sick, twisted pervert.” They laugh with such ease.
“Dom will be out in a minute,” Paul tells me. “He’s in the bathroom. I need to go back up and help Helena turn back into Sandy. Kori’s up there, so we’ll be a bit if you want to wait.”
“That’s fine.”
“Or,” Vince says, “you can stay down here with me, and we can go find that corner of the bar to go make out. You know, for old time’s sake. Remember what happened later that night?”
Paul rolls his eyes but can’t hide the smile. “Maybe later. Scratch that. Definitely later.” He kisses Vince and disappears back into the bar.
“Butt sex happened later that night,” Vince says to me happily.
I laugh. “I figured as much. What happened to oversharing?”
He shrugs. “I figured you were wondering. Couldn’t leave you hanging.”
How kind. “You love him, huh?”
“Paul? Oh sure. With all that I’ve got. He’s the only thing I need. I tell him it’s real, and he believes me. What more could I ask for?”
“Tell him it’s real?”