Chapter 16 - Connor
Connor
It’s around eleven when I fall asleep on the living room sofa, waiting up for Dane. My phone screen reads a quarter past midnight when its incessant buzzing wakes me up. The time is right above the name of who’s calling. Dane.
“Hello?” I answer quickly, groggy and frantic.
But it’s not Dane’s voice I hear on the other end. It’s a deep, whimsical voice with an effeminate lilt asking if I’m “friends with Dane.”
“Uh, yeah. He’s my best friend, and who the hell are you?”
A minute later, I’m racing out the front door, climbing into my Jeep, and setting the GPS to some place called The Rowdy Seamen.
I somehow get there without being flagged for speeding, and I pull up to the curb in front of the entrance to wherever the hell this is.
A gay club, I guess. There’s a line down the block of mostly men and some women.
Some people whose gender I can’t tell at first glance, and some people dressed like they forgot Halloween's passed. Regardless of who is who, and what any of them are wearing, I’m sure I stick out like a sore thumb in my sweat shorts, skate shoes and flannel shirt.
“Hey, you can’t park there!” the disgruntled tone of a broadly built man in black clothes hollers at me. He steps away from his stool beside the front doors to stare me down as I defy him.
Bleeping the Jeep locked, I hop the curb, then try to reason with the guy. He looks a little like my uncle, which helps.
“C’mon, man,” I say, pointing to his place of work. “I just need to pick up my friend. I’ll be two minutes.”
“Have your friend meet you out here. And move your car, or I’ll have it towed.”
“I can’t. He’s, like, blacked out or something. Which is really on you and your establishment. What sorta place lets someone drink enough to black out? That’s a violation of your liquor license, man.”
“You need to get lost,” the dude snarls, squaring up like he has a black belt from Bouncer Academy.
“Look, some random person named Diamond-something called me using my friend’s phone and told me to come get him out of The Rowdy Seamen. So here I am, and I’m not leaving until I get him. If you wanna call the cops, I’ll gladly tell them—”
“Woah, woah, woah.” The guy puts his hands up. Not in surrender, but more like he’s worried I’ll claw his eyes out if he doesn’t let me in those doors. I just might! “Relax, kid. Diamond called you?”
“Fifteen minutes ago. Who knows what’s happened since then.”
The big guy sighs, putting his hand to his hip and sticking the other out between us, palm up. “You got an ID, at least?”
I shimmy my license out of the pocket on my phone case and fork it over for him to scrutinize with a penlight.
“Alright.” He hands it back. “You have two minutes before I call the towing company.”
I shove my phone and my ID into my pocket as I race through the door, ignoring the complaints from the folks still waiting to get in.
I’d been to clubs before in Sacramento, but that doesn’t make this one less daunting.
The claustrophobic amount of strangers around me can’t obscure how huge this place is.
Black walls make the horizon harder to discern over a sea of heads, and the cacophony of noises disorients me from knowing my left from my right.
If Dane passed out somewhere, he’s probably lying down. If someone needs to lie down in a club, where do they go? I ask the twelfth dude I bump into if this place has a lounge area.
He looks me up and down in the same way Dane did the first time we met, but I don’t feel any giddy excitement over it this time.
Maybe it’s because this man looks twenty years older than me and nothing like Dane, or maybe it’s because I have more important things going on right now than trying to analyze my sexuality.
“There sure is,” he says with the scent of cigarettes on his breath. Another thing to find distasteful. “Want me to take you there?”
As much as I don’t want this man taking me anywhere, time is ticking, and I don’t know how I’ll get Dane home if my car gets towed before I even find him.
The man takes my hand and tells me to follow him. His limp grip around my fingers gives me the willies, but I let it be for the sake of my mission.
While being led through a sea of men, I note that everyone’s doing the same sorts of things I’ve seen men do at straight clubs, except they’re doing all of it with each other.
Dancing, flirting, kissing, dry-humping.
Men in leather, men in glitter. Skinny men, shredded men, and husky men with full beards.
A few men I spot could rival Dane in handsomeness—tall and fit and dimple-cheeked—but my gut tells me their spirits don’t hold a candle.
The man I’m following takes me up an open stairway to a second floor that overlooks the first. At least if I don’t find Dane up here, I’ll have a bird’s-eye view of the rest of the club.
“Let’s find a place to chill,” the guy I’m following tells me, tightening his grip on my hand. His other hand touches my waist like he wants to bring me forward, so I pull back.
Before I can tell him to kick rocks, a different hand is tapping on my arm.
“Yoo-hoo!” a voice beside me sings.
I turn and come face to face with the most extravagantly dressed man I’ve ever seen.
The sequin mermaid gown and fake tits could be a belated Halloween costume of a Disney princess I’m unfamiliar with, or maybe this is normal attire for a gay club.
Either way, I try not to look as startled and confused as I am while I back away.
But then the bearded princess calls out, “Are you Connor?” and I recognize the voice as the one who spoke to me cryptically on the phone.
“Diamond?” I shove Mister Tobacco Breath away just as the princess barks at him to scram.
“Come here, darling.” Diamond motions me closer to her half-moon booth where a whole troop of princesses lounge. With a flourish of her manicured hand, Diamond points to the inner curve of the booth behind their table and says, “Your friend is here.”
Diamond shoos two of her associates away, giving clearance for me to crawl across the sofa until I find Dane curled up across two vacant cushions.
His face is sparkly with glitter and shiny with sweat. I sweep my palms along his cheeks and forehead until his eyes peek open.
“Connie?” His eyes are glassy and unfocused. His arm lifts, reaching back toward me and flopping onto my shoulder like a wet noodle. “What’re you doin’ ‘ere?”
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask the princesses.
The one in a bubble-gum-pink bodysuit answers, “Someone slipped him something, is my guess.”
“Who did? Something like what?” My mind immediately goes to the worst-case scenario. As if I haven’t been sick enough, these thoughts make me want to riot.
“Don’t worry,” Diamond says. “We’ve been looking after him.”
“Connie, dance with me,” Dane murmurs, eyes fluttering shut.
“It’s time to go home. Can you stand up?”
His silence isn’t promising, but Diamond asks the cohort to lend a hand.
The four deep-voiced princesses and I squirm Dane’s long, semi-conscious body out of the booth and hoist him to his feet.
He’s so unsteady, he can only stay standing while hugging my shoulders, weighing me down and making it impossible to walk him out of here.
“I’ve got you,” Diamond says, peeling Dane off me and holding him up better than I could.
Together, we get Dane down the stairs and through the sea of frisky gays toward a neon EXIT sign.
As soon as we’re out the door, the fresh air hits me like an ice-cold drink on a hot day.
I shimmy my keys out of my pocket, and I bleep my car unlocked.
The asshole bouncer who wanted to have my Jeep towed is now strutting across the sidewalk and opening my passenger door.
Thankfully, three sets of arms are enough to get Dane into the bucket seat. Diamond thanks the bouncer for being a “sweetheart” while I buckle Dane in, then I roll my eyes past the bouncer and thank Diamond instead.
“You’re welcome, darling. You just get the ragamuffin home safe, alright? And, here—” Diamond dips into her sparkly bustier and tugs out a sleek business card that she puts into my hand before telling me to subscribe to her YouTube channel.
Diamond Laroux
Drag Performer
Available for Events
“Thanks.” I slip the card into my pocket, though I’m not sure when I’ll ever need to call upon a drag queen again.
“Drive safe!” Diamond calls out as I climb in behind the wheel.
The tall dude knocking his knees against my glove box says, “Connie, I’m tired.”
I turn the ignition and switch on my blinker. “We’re going home, then we’ll sleep.”
It’s a chore getting Dane out of the car and into the house all by myself, but he’s able to walk a little better now than he could at the club.
Once in his bedroom, I kick the door shut and help Dane to his bed.
Defiantly, Dane cinches his arms around my neck and steps on my shoes to keep me from putting him to bed.
“Dance with me,” he murmurs beside my ear.
I hug him and rub his back through his see-through shirt. “Thought you wanted to sleep.”
“Dance first.”
“There’s no music.”
“Dance anyway.”
I chuckle against his shoulder, swaying him left and right.
He hums an approval while I do little more than rock him side to side. “I bet you went to your prom,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“Who did you go with?”
“The girl I was dating at the time.”
“Did she have a masculine quality about her?”
Chuckling again, I say, “No. Very feminine. Did you go to your prom?”
“Nah. Skipped it. Went to a bonfire instead. A group of guys from the military base crashed it, and I let one of them fuck me in his truck. It was, like, the second worst night of my life.”
I stop swaying and move a hand up to Dane’s head, petting his hair while he rests on my shoulder.
Imagining Dane getting fucked in a parking lot by an older stranger makes me sick.
Not the throw-up-in-my-mouth sort of sick, but the sort where revenge flashes in my mind along with thoughts of how easy it might be to track down whoever did it.
“Why did you let him?” I ask calmly.
“I dunno. I was kinda fucked up, and I thought he liked me. He ended up leaving with this girl I went to school with, Yvette, and they dated for a little while behind her parents’ backs.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He presses his mouth to my cheek. “He wasn’t nearly as cute as you.”
When I turn my head, Dane kisses my mouth, and all my somber feelings dispel into a calming joy. We don’t kiss the way a lot of men at The Rowdy Seamen were. We kiss slowly and softly, and I let Dane’s tongue past my lips until his hand wedges between us and palms me through my shorts.
“No,” I murmur, holding his jaw to keep an inch of breathing room between our mouths.
He whines, squeezing my dick with just the right bit of strength to make it swell. “I dunno if I can get hard, but I can still make you come.”
“Huh uh.” I shake my head and take his groping hand into my own, lacing our fingers to keep his from sneaking back to my crotch. “Not tonight. Not while you’re messed up.”
He leans in, kissing me again. “Last night was the best night of my life. Not just what we did, but getting to sleep with you after.”
“I loved it too.” The flutter in my chest makes me forget everything that exists outside of these four walls. I forget about Thalia and how bad it’ll look if she catches me coming out of Dane’s room for the second morning in a row.
Looking down at our joined hands, I notice the dark gloss on Dane’s short fingernails. It’s not a professional manicure the likes of Diamond’s sparkly acrylics or Thalia's French tips, but it’s something I haven’t seen on Dane before.
“Did you paint your nails?” I ask.
“Midnight blue. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, I really like it.” I bring our hands up to my mouth and kiss his thumb. “Let’s go to bed now, okay?”
“Sleepies?” he pouts, so adorable when his forehead crinkles and his bottom lip plumps.
“Yeah. Sleepies.”
“You know what sleepies are, right?”
“What?”
“Sleeping, but for cuties.”
“Ah, then it’s perfect for you.” Still holding his hand, I walk him to his unmade bed, push the covers aside and help him not to fall as he sits on the edge of the mattress.
He lets my hand go to tug his shirt up and over his head, giving me a high-def view of his torso. I help him out of his jeans next. They stick to his skin like wallpaper, but a couple of good yanks frees his long legs, and we keep going until he’s butt naked and denying pajamas.
Dressed only in residual glitter and two nipple rings, Dane rolls himself to the center of his bed and grabs for the blankets. If he hadn’t been drugged, I’d find it a lot more amusing that he can hardly tuck himself into bed without whining.
I take off my shoes and flannel before untangling the sheets and blankets to drape over Dane’s nakedness. Then, I scoot off the bed and head toward the door.
“Don’t leave,” he says.
“Just getting the light.” I don’t dally. I hit the light switch, lock Dane’s doors for safety, then find the bed again in the teal glow of Dane’s nightlight.
As soon as my shorts and socks are off, I slip between the sheets and turn onto my side. On his side, too, Dane stares into my eyes with dreamy exhaustion. A boyish, fragile expression that makes me want to hold on to him until the sun comes up.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“For what?”
I lay my hand on his head and stroke his cheekbone with my thumb. “For bringing Thalia to your match.”
Eyes slipping shut, Dane murmurs, “I don’t wanna talk about Thalia.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Connor?”
“Hm?”
“I can’t sleep,” he mumbles sleepily.
“Sure you can. Want me to rub your back?”
“Mhm,” he whimpers like a child as he rolls onto his front and nuzzles his cheek into his pillow.
I push the covers down to just above Dane’s ass, and I lay my hand between his shoulder blades as gingerly as I touched his face. Slowly, I dance my fingertips down his spine then back up. I do figure eights over his smooth skin and connect the dots between his little moles.
He moans deeply, eyes closed again and his body limp. “My mom used to do this when I was little.”
Smiling, I lean in and kiss his upturned cheek. “Mine too.”
“I miss her a lot.”
I keep playing my fingers along Dane’s back until his gentle breaths become gentle snores, then I keep going a little longer just to savor our time together.
When my hand gets tired, I flatten it on the small of Dane’s back, nuzzle my face against his shoulder, and think about how awesome it would be if we could fall asleep together every night.