He grinned at me. I would need to make sure the person who bid on him treated him right. He deserved it. I was going to be such a good pimp—er, hostess.
“Boyfriend,” Caleb said dubiously. “Really. You don’t seem like his type.”
“And you do?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’m everyone’s type. And before you got here, it seemed like I was his too.”
“You’re not my type,” I said.
“That’s fine,” he said. “Because I wasn’t going for you.”
I saw red. Bloody, murderous red.
“Look,” Darren said hastily. “You seem nice and everything, but—”
“You’re in this auction?” Caleb interrupted.
Darren glanced at me. Then, “Yeah. Uh. Yes, I am.”
“Good,” Caleb said, squeezing his arm. “I’ll just have to make sure I bid, then.”
“Uh, Helena?” Paul asked.
“Paul,” I said, voice low and dangerous.
“Your show? It’s um. It’s about to start.”
“Is it.”
“Yes?”
“Then I guess I should head over there. Brian, be a dear, would you? Escort me to the stage. I would be so appreciative, baby doll.”
“Are you sure?” Brian asked, looking between Darren and me.
“Positive,” I said.
Darren’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t say anything. He also didn’t push the twink away, either. He hadn’t since I’d come out here. But that was okay. That was fine. Because he and I weren’t anything and Caleb was right. I wasn’t Darren’s type. He was. And maybe types were sort of an archaic notion, but they still held some truth. Darren liked what he liked. That’s just who he was. Maybe when this was all over, he’d fuck Caleb. Or maybe he’d do that later tonight.
Whatever. I didn’t care.
“As eye-opening as this has been,” I said, “I’ve got a show to perform. Isn’t that right, Darren? Because those are the rules. Kiss kiss.”
And I left him there as I dragged Brian away, Paul and Vince trailing behind us.
I WAS off most of that night. Even while performing a mashup of “Leather and Lace” and “Umbrella” (don’t ask and just trust me that it works) as Stevie Rihannanicks, I couldn’t get the image of Caleb’s hands on Darren’s arms out of my head. It probably didn’t help that C
aleb had followed Darren into the club, surrounded by the other homo jocks who glared at him every time he leaned over and whispered something in Darren’s ear. Darren, for his part, barely cracked a smile, didn’t even really look at him, but still didn’t push the damn hipster twink away.
So I ignored the both of them as best I could.
In fact, I bypassed them completely.
When the break in the lyrics came and I was dancing around, collecting tips from the fans, I skipped right over Darren completely, even though he held out another twenty. Childish, maybe. Petty, definitely. But I was annoyed and hurt, even though I didn’t think I had any right to be. He wasn’t mine. He could do what he wanted. After our arrangement had finished, of course. And did it really even need to be going on in the first place? Everything was out in the open. Almost. We didn’t need to do anything more. We didn’t need to keep up this charade when it was obvious his affections were elsewhere. He might have been acting disinterested toward Caleb, but that’s how he acted with all the twinks he fucked. That wasn’t speculation. That was fact.
Brian was there, though, holding out a five-dollar bill, and I gave him a bit of a grind just this side of dirty. I didn’t even glance at Darren when I’d finished and moved on. I didn’t have time for him at the moment.
I introduced the other queens and stood behind the curtain, breathing heavily as they performed, waiting for my turn to go back up.