“He licked your butthole where Esteban and I had our first date?” Agnes growled. “How the fuck am I ever supposed to come back here again with him and not think about you getting your fucking ass licked by the Homo Jock King?”
“Huh,” I said. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“I didn’t even think of that,” he mocked, high-pitched and bitchy. It was really rather remarkable, especially given the bouffant. “Here I’m going to be, trying to eat my carne asada burrito and be with my fiancé, and all I’ll be able to think is how Darren put his tongue in your butt!”
“Please stop saying that!” Esteban groaned.
“We’ve had some complaints,” Santiago said, sliding up to the table. “This is a family restaurant and you are infecting the children with your sexy words.”
“I will stab you in the uvula if you don’t walk away right this second,” Agnes snarled at him.
“Walking away,” Santiago squeaked and did just that.
“Agnes,” I said, reaching for his hand, “I’m sorry I ruined your date spot with public rimming.”
“You should be.” Agnes sniffed. “It’s really unfair. You could have been rimmed anywhere you chose.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“Yes he did!” Darren called over. “Just not with words.”
“I might have asked for it with my body. You know how my body is.” I frowned. “Wait, that didn’t sound right. Esteban, Agnes doesn’t know how my body is. Not in that way. I would never do anything with him like that. Only your brother.”
Esteban’s mustache drooped. “That didn’t help like you think it did.”
“Great!” I said, clapping my hands in front of my chest. “This has just been swell. Who’s hungry?”
Chapter 22: The Queen & the Homo Jock King
I WAS sitting at the vanity in the Lair, nervously trying not to check my phone as I waited. Paul, Vince, and Corey had already divested themselves of their alter egos and left me be. Paul had hugged me before he departed, whispering in my ear that he was happy for me and that I should allow myself to be happy too. He’d told me it was real, and that if needed, all I had to do was ask Darren and I’d see.
And I wanted to.
Very, very badly.
Because removed from the situation, that random fever-dream of Darren eating me out in public, those old familiar doubts tried to make themselves known. That Darren didn’t actually want me. That this whole thing was a game. That he was going to be cruel to me again. That he only wanted the Helena part of me and not the Sandy. Helena was brash and fun and loud and didn’t give two shits about anything. Sandy wasn’t like that, not really. There was a clear division between my normal life and my queen life. And the one time I’d tried to present my normal life without any animosity toward Darren, he’d lashed out with harsh words that had set us against each other for years.
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.”