9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Jordie
W e linger after the drag show until last call, drinking toast after toast to Keith and Pixel’s performance. When the club closes, Pixel and Celeste head home, both of them entirely ready to take Pixel’s post-show buzz behind closed doors. So I won’t be going home anytime soon if I don’t want an earful of my roommates fucking.
It’s just as well that the rest of my friends aren’t ready to call it a night; that means I have company to stay out. Plus, it’s a perfect excuse to spend more time with Ray. We bring our little after party down the street to our favorite diner. I arrange it so that I’m next to Ray. I walk a little too close to him, a boisterous joy bubbling up inside me every time his arm bumps against mine as he talks with my friends. His accent comes out more when he’s tipsy and I hang on his every enchanting word.
Randy’s is open all night, and it serves the best middle of the night breakfast in town. Or at the very least, the queerest. The place is popular, even in the wee hours. It’s a Friday night, so we have to wait for the staff to clear a big enough table for our group, even though it’s normally seat yourself.
I recognize a table of regulars who usually sit by themselves in what we affectionately call the writer’s corner, all tapping away at their computers. In deference to the crowd, they’ve consolidated at one table tonight, though it’s relatively recent for a sprinkling of scene kids to be sitting with the writers.
Archibald is holding court at the counter by the register, telling anyone who will listen that his dirigible is going to be ready any day now. A group of theater nerds are standing at their table doing some sort of dramatic reenactment.
Ray crowds closer to me, staring wide-eyed at the bright chrome and neon interior—not to mention the visibly queer clientele and staff. I flash him a reassuring smile and quash the urge to touch him. He grins at me, then goes back to feasting his eyes on the diner. I follow his gaze to one of the corner booths. From the amount of leather and collars visible at one of the large corner booths, there might have been some sort of kinky event earlier in the evening too.
I watch as one person at that table hooks a forefinger through the D-ring on another’s collar and hauls them closer for a rough kiss. That’s my cur to glance away from the sensual display and scan the dining room for friendly faces. I recognize a few other folks from the drag show and wave at them as they stand nearby to wait for a table.
Ray smiles and strikes up a conversation with one of them in rapidfire French that’s hard for me to follow. But it’s fine, because I’m a bit smitten watching Ray get all animated at the little auditory taste of home. I know he’s been missing his family and Montreal. I’m glad Randy’s is giving him a sense of connection to his language community as well as a queer safe space.
I try to pick out what Ray and his new friend are saying, but I only catch every fourth or fifth word. The conversation ends when Ray’s new friend’s companions pull them away to join their group at a table near the front window.
“New friend?” I ask, trying to act nonchalant.
“Yeah, Claude. They’re new to the city too. And they’ve got family ties to the same tiny town in Québec as my grand-père Gagnon.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” I force a smile.
I’m not jealous, precisely. I just don’t want to be left behind so soon after connecting with Ray. Anyone I mentor outgrowing me is always going to feel like a when , not an if because of Nell. She’s the reason I can’t shake the sense that any friends I make early in their queer journey are inevitably going to discard our friendship the moment I’m no longer useful.
It’s hard to hide my hurt over that future betrayal. Ray shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot in front of me. Ugh, I should be the bigger person here.
“You should get their number to stay in touch,” I suggest.
“Oh, uh, I guess? Could be nice to have another Boston Francophone to chat with. I’ve got my aunts for that already though. Anyway, I’m going to run to the washroom,” Ray mumbles. He points before making a beeline to the all-gender bathrooms off to the left.
I stare after him as it dawns on me that he didn’t dare to go at the club. He has stuck to my side like glue all night, but that is no less than I expected when I let the little baby queer imprint on me. Encouraged him to open up to me faster than I usually let in new friends, if I’m honest. Ray stepping into himself is a constant temptation to forget all my rules for protecting my heart.
I feel a pang of guilt for not realizing Ray might not be comfortable going to the men’s room just yet while we were at the club. At least Randy’s makes it easy to go without stressing over which door will be least likely to result in an unpleasant confrontation.
I snort cynically at the idea of going to the bathroom being some twisted version of a vintage TV game show. Behind this door is an entire ass who might take a swing at you. Wouldn’t be the first time. Well, now that I suspect Ray is getting self-conscious about it, I can pass along which buildings on campus and local businesses have the best all-gender facilities.
I can’t tear my eyes off him as he navigates between the crowded tables. I’m all swoony over him, but he’s just so damn cute. Seeing him like this, with the confidence to step into the world as himself with just the barest amount of support and hand-holding is satisfying. Ray makes it easier to ignore my usual misgivings about blurring the lines of friendship with a newly out person.
“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight; what did you think of my show?” Keith jars me out of my thoughts about Ray. I’m getting overly attached, but that’s a problem for another day. Tonight, I’m supposed to be supporting Keith after his first drag show, not obsessing over a crush I’m not planning to act upon.
Keith bats his long, artificial lashes at me as we wait for a seat. He drops his head onto my shoulder and pouts up at me, waiting for the praise that is his due.
“You were radiant, darling.” I shove him off my shoulder, grimacing at the wet patch that his sweat-damp short hair leaves on my favorite blouse. His hair is a mess from the wig he wore earlier, his cheeks still flushed from the rush of performing.
Keith took off his costume and most of his makeup before we left the club, but he’s still positively glowing from the high of being on stage. Smokey liner and vibrantly silver shadow still accent his eyes.
“Thank you, do go on.” Keith weaves his fingers together and props his chin on them to bat his outrageous false lashes at me some more.
“Your outfit was on point, the set list was stellar, and you slayed the moves. You know it was perfection.” I humor his insecurity about the show by repeating the same litany of praise from the first time he asked back at the club.
Keith did great. Sure, there were a few minor hiccups. A song where Bella Donna garbled a verse and a nail-biting moment when it looked like her wig might topple off her head during a particularly energetic dance sequence, but overall she was dazzling.
“Mhm, go on…” Keith gestures for me to keep talking, twirling his fingers in front of him.
“Ask your boyfriend if you want to be bathed in flattery, you insatiable man.” I laugh, shaking my head at him.
“Are you being a pest, Keith?” Abe pulls his diminutive boyfriend back against his chest and nuzzles into his sweaty hair.
“Of course not, Abraham, I would never.” Keith cranes his neck to look up at Abe and flutter those pretty lashes at a more susceptible target. Abe snorts, wise to Keith’s flirtations.
“Of course you would. We all loved your show. Now, be a good boy and stop fishing for compliments if you want your reward later.”
Keith licks his lips and nods. He pivots the conversation. “Your new boy is adorable, Jordie. Wherever did you find him?”
“You know that psych class I didn’t want to take?” I remind him, since he missed the introductions earlier.
We’ve talked about Ray before. According to Celeste, he’s all I talk about lately, but I just like him. He takes his classes seriously and helps me to focus on mine when we meet up for our standing study dates after our psych lectures.
That’s another way he isn’t like so many other folks I’ve handheld through coming out or early transition goals. Ray and I talk about other things than how I can make his transition easier for him.
“Yeah?” Keith prompts me with a knowing smile. He’s baiting me into rambling about my crush, and I can’t even bring myself to be mad about it.
“Well, he fell into my lap while trying to sit next to me. Literally landed right in my clutches, all awkward and sweet.”
“And you just had to take him in like a stray puppy?” Keith teases.
“I’d give your puppy a bone anytime, Jords.” Jacob gestures lewdly, in case any of us are unclear about his meaning. His played up interest in Ray stirs up my protective instincts.
“Don’t make him uncomfortable, Jacob.” I wag a finger at him. Jacob playfully snaps his teeth at me. It doesn’t help my mood that he’s obnoxiously hot. I saw Ray staring at him across the table with all the usual awestruck signs of being addled by Jacob’s charm and good looks.
“You mean back off because you’ve got dibs?” Jacob flicks his eyes over me, like he’s sizing up the competition.
His gaze makes me uncomfortable, mostly because Ray isn’t a prize to be won and even the implication otherwise makes my stomach squirm. And maybe a little because it’s obvious which of us is more conventionally attractive if we were competing over a crush.
Jacob looks like he could be a rockstar. By contrast, I’m drab. My dyed black hair is in desperate need of a trim and retouch to the color, ashy brown roots growing out and the tips frizzy. My eyes are a boring muddy brown, my cheekbones are too sharp, my lips too thin, my nose too long. And that isn’t even getting into my bigger issues with my body. Hips too narrow, shoulders too broad, all my softness is in all the wrong places, padding my middle.
I shift my shoulders, subtly reminding myself of the breast forms that fill out my flowery blouse and make me feel pretty. Sure, it would be nice if I had more of a chest, but store-bought works too. Maybe someday I’ll have my own curves to work but that doesn’t help me right now. Tonight I opted for a larger pair of falsies, a little extra helping to fill out my shirt. And I didn’t miss Ray’s eyes surreptitiously all over me earlier.
Bad Jordie, no crushing on the baby. Even if he is my age because his school system makes no sense. His accent makes me swoony too. Especially when he remembers to drop his voice to that lower register that has my silky panties fitting too tight. Ugh.
“No, I mean he’s still figuring out who he is and what he wants; he doesn’t need you playing with his heart.” And he doesn’t need his first queer friend at university perving on him either. I need to keep things platonic. With me and all of my friends.
“Last I checked, he’s an adult who can decide for himself what he wants. And if he does want me, he’ll know the score before we fuck. I’m not a total asshole.” Jacob rolls his eyes at me. “You’re clearly both into each other anyway, so it’s a moot point.”
“Oh look, Zo’s waving us over to our seats!” Sheila chirps, interrupting before I can get into it with Jacob or deny my interest in Ray. Sheila waves back at Zo, bouncing in place. The movement makes her scowl and aggressively adjust her bra before starting across the diner to the corner booth that’s ready for us.
Lio trails after Sheila, smiling indulgently as they gently steady their bestie when Sheila veers off course. She’s totally wasted and it will be good for her to get some water and delicious diner food in her stomach.
I peruse the specials board as we walk to our seats. I skim right on past Neve’s caramel crunch protein balls and narrow in on Kit’s contribution to the seasonal dessert offerings. This week they’ve got a pumpkin spice tiramisu that sounds divine. And if it’s like any of Kit’s other innovations, it’s going to be pure decadence.
I’m drooling already. And that’s before Ray steps out of the restroom, still looking just as mouthwateringly handsome as when we left my place hours ago. I wave him over as he turns, eyes darting around the room like he’s afraid we ditched him.
“We’re over here,” Jacob calls across the busy diner like the giant putz he’s being tonight, hand raised in a wave.
Ray’s face lights up in a relieved grin when our eyes meet across the room. My heart skips a beat at the sight of him, more of that giddy joy at being his focus bubbling up inside me. Ray makes his way over to us, weaving around the tables to slide in next to me. I try to act casual about how I totally arranged it that way.
“Do you all know what you want?” Zo asks once he’s seated, their pen poised over their order pad. Tonight, the pronoun pin on her apron reads she/them. Her teal hair matches the 50s pinup girl dress with a flared skirt. They smile, watching us expectantly.
“Coffee, bring the entire pot,” Sheila makes grabby hands. “Please?”
“Sure thing, doll. I’ll bring over a carafe. How many mugs?” Zo counts as we all raise our hands.
“Magic bean juice all around, gotcha.” Zo winks. “What else?”
“The usual,” Sheila gestures toward Lio. “And whatever they’re having is on my tab.”
Zo goes around the table collecting our orders.
“Is there any more of Kit’s pumpkin tiramisu?” I ask. Sometimes they run out of the more popular specials.
“Plenty. You’ll love it. My kiddo is officially obsessed with the stuff since Kit tested it on the staff last week.” Zo’s smile brightens, looking more genuine when they talk about her kid.
“She’s got good taste.”
“The best.” Zo nods and turns to Ray. “You’re a new face; what can I get for you?”
“Umm.” Ray’s gaze flies over the menu. “Don’t suppose I can get fries with cheese and gravy?”
“Marty can do an alright off menu poutine, but it’s shredded mozzarella, not curds. That alright?” Zo gives him a sympathetic smile. “Need a minute longer while I go grab the coffee?”
“No, I’ll be fine with the shredded cheese, thank you.” Ray flashes her a relieved smile as Zo tucks away their order pad.
“Coming right up. I’ll be back with your drinks,” she tells the table at large.
“Ray!” Keith leans into Ray’s space as soon as Zo leaves, eager to solicit more attention. “What did you think of my show?”
“You were wonderful,” Ray says, totally earnest.
Keith grins and leans back against Abe’s side, basking in the praise.
Jacob lobs a napkin at Keith. “Stop digging for compliments, oh vain one, we all saw you being brilliant. Let’s hear more about Ray. What are you studying?”
Ray squirms in his seat at the interrogation as all my friends lob questions at him. He answers easily enough about his plans to help queer youth, but I can’t help feeling some kind of way when he scoots closer to me on the booth’s bench seat. As if I might protect him from my friends’ overzealous interest. I might be reading into things, but I enjoy being his safe space to shelter from the spotlight.