Flight of Aquavit (28 page)

Sereena looked Errall in the eyes and said in a

way that did not invite questioning, “Clarissa is a

client of Russell’s here in disguise, now lay off him

and get me a gin and tonic, lime squeeze.”

Clarissa opened his mouth into a perfect
o
.

Marilyn would have been proud.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Sereena told him

“She still doesn’t know who you are. Now what

are you drinking?”

“A beer…uh…Canadian,” he answered in a

voice that sounded more baritone than it really

was.

“Mmmm…” Sereena considered the answer.

“Perhaps something not in a can or bottle would

be more ladylike for tonight? Get him the same as

me and one for Jared. Russell will help.”

I pulled Errall out of her seat and towards the

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bar before she had time to argue. By the time we

returned with the drinks, including a club soda for

myself, Jared and Sereena were on the dance floor

moving to Will Smith and Daniel was watching

the crowd, enthralled.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I sat on one of the stools.

“They shouldn’t have left you alone.” It was the

first moment all evening that I’d had time with my

client away from the questionable influence of

Jared and Sereena. I tried to catch his eyes with

my own to see if I could decipher what he was

really feeling about what was happening to him

that night. But I couldn’t see anything, least of all

any signs of the old Daniel Guest.

“I told them to go ahead,” he said. “I’m safe

under all this stuff. I feel like a hunter under a

duck bluff. Besides, I wanted to stay here and

keep an eye out for James Kraft.”

I gave my client a sharp look. “You mean

SunLover.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, paying more attention to the

pretty boys passing by than to our conversation.

“That’s right. SunLover.”

I shook my head. I should not have let Daniel

drink. We weren’t there for fun; we had work to

do. And sensing that, Errall hopped off her stool

and left us to join Jared and Sereena.

“Do you see anyone who looks familiar?” I

asked Daniel, wanting to focus his attention, and

mine, on the matter at hand.

“Nnnnnnnoooooo,” he drawled, “but I do see

another guy who can’t take his eyes off of you.”

Like a silly schoolgirl I whirled around to see

Anthony Bidulka — 221

whom he was talking about. And sure enough,

standing against a far wall opposite the coat check

was a stocky, muscular man in jeans and tight T-

shirt (of course) looking at me. I smiled and gave

him a quick wave.

“Do you know him?” Daniel asked excitedly.

“We’ve met.”

“What does that mean? You’ve met and shook

hands or you’ve met and,” he leaned in and whis-

pered feverishly, “had sex?”

I sipped my club soda. It was flat. “We have not

had sex. We’ve just seen each other around.”

“But you could have sex with him if you want-

ed to?”

“Daniel, I don’t know…maybe…I suppose

so…I don’t know.” This pubescent drag queen

was actually embarrassing me.

“You are so lucky,” he said seriously. It was

near impossible to read the true expression on his

face underneath all the Maybelline. “I rarely have

sex. Almost never with Cheryl anymore. You are a

lucky man.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You have all of this,” he answered, raising his

hands in a gesture that was meant to encompass

the entire nightclub. “Right here at your disposal;

you can take it or leave it whenever you want. You

can come in here without a disguise; you can be

who you really are. You, Russell, are a free man.”

He looked around and added, “These are all free

people.”

Although I doubted everyone in Diva’s that

night would agree with his sweeping statement, I

222 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

understood what he meant. What he was really

saying was that he was not free, he was a captive

of the lifestyle he had chosen. I began to wonder

if it had been the right decision to bring him there.

Had I made an insensitive blunder? Was bringing

him to Diva’s like hauling a dieter into a bakery or

taking an ex-smoker to a bingo parlour?

Sometimes you don’t miss what you don’t see. But

once you see it, it is hard to resist. But being gay

isn’t the same as being an overeater or a reformed

smoker. It isn’t bad for your health (usually). It is

a state of being, no matter where you are. Denying

it is like denying the nose on your face. And

maybe, Daniel was finally taking notice of the

nose on his face.

“Daniel,” I said, “would you like to leave

now?”

He looked at me in an odd way. For a moment

he reminded me of the sad clown who could only

laugh because that’s how the makeup was drawn

on his face. “No,” he answered definitively, “I

want to see this. I want to…I love it here.”

I nodded and glanced around. The bar was get-

ting busy as more and more people crowded in

before last call, wanting to be part of the swirling,

intoxicating madness that is the climax of any

weekend and usually happens somewhere

around 2 a.m. Sunday morning. “Do you feel con-

fident enough to walk around, Clarissa?”

“Sure,” he said, “as long as I don’t fall off these

shoes!”

I took Daniel’s hand to help steady him and led

him through the throng. It struck me that I would

Anthony Bidulka — 223

have never thought to hold hands with Daniel

Guest when he was dressed as a man, but,

although the feel of our skin touching was odd,

somehow as Clarissa it was okay. We made our

way past the posers on the staircase, we stuck our

noses into the almost deserted pool room, we

made a tour of the upper level table area, stopped

in the bathroom to relieve ourselves (Daniel used

the one stall in the men’s room) and then slowly

headed back. We came away without any sighting

of SunLover but I did manage to collect a pinch

from a grinch and a wink from a twink.

By the time we got back to our table, Errall,

Jared and Sereena had returned. Sereena looked as

fresh as if she’d just stepped from a shower. Errall,

however, didn’t look so good. She looked miser-

able actually. Daniel sidled up to Jared and

Sereena to tell them of his upstairs exploits, such

as they were, and I snuck in close to Errall.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Shit no,” she told me harshly with a look

meant to end the conversation.

I simply nodded understandingly. But I didn’t

understand at all.

“He’s here!” Daniel shouted a little too loudly.

“What? Who?” I asked him, glad for the loud

music and incessant chattering around us that

handily cloaked our conversation.

He was staring towards the entrance of the

club, his beautifully made-up eyes wide. “The

man I had sex with at Cranberry Flats! He’s here!

He just came in! He’s in the line for the coat

check!”

224 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

We all turned our heads in unison to stare at

the unsuspecting Lothario and in sync our jaws

dropped to the table at the sight of the familiar

face.

Chapter 12

“THAT’S HIM! THAT’S HIM!” Daniel a.k.a. Clarissa

repeated unnecessarily. “SunLover is here.”

Each of us made like hoot owls looking at each

other with wide-eyed expressions of disbelief.

Then like a crazed team of synchronized head

turners we each turned to stare at Jared. He was

gazing at the man identified as SunLover—the

man Daniel Guest had sex with on Bare Ass Beach

just a few months ago. He was gazing at his part-

ner, Anthony Gatt. Jared was saying nothing and

his perfectly constructed face was unreadable, like

one of his magazine-cover photos.

What happened next was a blur. Anthony

eventually caught sight of our little group from

his spot in the coat check line. And how could he

not, with five sets of eyes burning holes into the

back of his Prada shirt. He turned and gave us his

most beguiling superstar wattage smile. Under

the brightly coloured mask of Clarissa’s makeup,

Daniel Guest went pale. He had no way of know-

ing that Anthony knew us, so he reached the only

logical conclusion—SunLover had somehow rec-

ognized him. Jared had yet to say anything or, for

that matter, register any form of reaction. I just

knew that before he did, I had to get Daniel out of

there. I didn’t want Anthony arriving at the table

and laid siege to by recriminations and accusa-

tions with my client still around to hear it all.

Sereena caught my drift without so much as a ver-

226 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

bal hint from me and gathered up her own and

Clarissa’s things and led the charge for the door.

Errall remained at the table with Jared, glumly

contemplating her drink. Instead of joining the

coat-check lineup where we’d no doubt come face

to face with Anthony, we pushed our way through

it and towards the exit. We stopped at the check-

in window to ask the white-haired doorwoman if

she’d mind retrieving our coats. She did so with

an accommodating smile and we were out of there

before Anthony even knew we’d gone.

On the drive home Sereena and I sat in the

front of the van scrutinizing the road and saying

little while Clarissa was in the back, shedding her

skin, slowing becoming Daniel Guest again and

blabbering on with endless questions about what

had just happened. I finally explained to him that

SunLover was a friend of ours and therefore

removed as a suspect in his blackmailing case. He

kept on asking questions, but we did little more

than nod or shake our heads, which for the most

part seemed to appease our metamorphosing

charge. I pulled into the garage behind my house

and Sereena led Daniel back to her place to com-

plete the de-dragging process. I begged off offers

of a nightcap and went home.

Sunday morning dawned bright and cloudless

with a much nicer temperature than we’d experi-

enced the past few days. I knew the warm trend

probably meant snow in our future. I’d had a fit-

ful night of tossing and turning and poking Barbra

Anthony Bidulka — 227

in the ribs. We both emerged from the bedroom

around 9:30 a.m., I bleary-eyed and feeling a little

down. As we made our way to the foyer to

retrieve Brutus we could smell meat frying. I was

sure if my mother hung around long enough I’d

eventually be able to identify a meat by its smell in

the fried state, but I wasn’t there yet. I was guess-

ing it was either sausage or back bacon. Even

Barbra was surprised when we didn’t find Brutus

in his usual spot by the front door, but it didn’t

take long to figure out that he was just a dog after

all and probably in the kitchen with my mother

slumming for scraps. We were right.

“Morning,” I mumbled as I let Barbra out to do

her business. Brutus went along for the heck of it.

“Dere’s nice fresh pot coffee,” she said, looking

her usual morning self—which actually wasn’t a

whole lot different than her usual self at any other

time of day. “I trow out da first one.” That was her

subtle way of saying, “The first pot went bad

because you slept
so
late.”

Well, it was Sunday and even if it wasn’t, I had

a right to sleep in whenever I had a mind to. She’d

have to get used to that if she was going to move

in…

Oh Gaaaawwwwwwd! Was she really going to

move in? Every so often the possibility hit me like

a bag of frozen perogies.

My hands balled into fists, I rubbed my eyes

awake. “Sorry, I just couldn’t sleep last night. Bad

dreams.”

“Dey say if you dreenk too much before sleep

you haf bad dream.” Interpretation: “You were out

228 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t

drinking alcohol last night, weren’t you?”

I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the island. I

watched her stir something in a pot and move

sausage—aha! I was right—around in a sizzling

pan. I sipped the coffee. Then again. Not bad. It

actually had some flavour and substance. Did she

send out?

And then an unexpected sensation overtook

me. For some reason my mouth was watering and