The Queen & the Homo Jock King (12 page)

“Great,” Paul said. “Now he’s going to freak out for the rest of the day. Thanks, Dad.”

“Darren,” Octavius said, trying to curl up against him again. “What say we get out of here and go look at my portfolio? I have black-and-white nudes in dramatic lighting because the photographer said my body was a wonderland.”

“Yes,” I said. “Because quoting John Mayer seems like something you would do.”

“Why did you throw the money back in my face last night?” Darren asked me unexpectedly.

I sneered at him. “I didn’t need your fucking charity. I know that for what it was. You homo jocks think you’re so fucking superior.”

“Uh, Sandy?” Brian asked. “I would really like my hand back now. I think you’re splintering my bones.”

“It has been lovely indeed,” Corey said. “We should do this again more often. Next time, we should all bring a new friend.”

“I don’t know if I want my one-night stands here,” Nana said. “As the lovely Usher put it, I’m a lady in the streets but a freak in the bed.”

Darren furrowed his brow at me. “Charity? What the fuck are you talking about? This has never been about
charity
. I wanted to—”

And I never got to hear what Darren wanted to do, because right at that
exact
moment, Vince Taylor said, “Marry me.”

And all the noise.

Just.

Stopped
.

It was like the air had been sucked from the room and we were stuck in a vacuum. My heart tripped all over itself in my chest and Paul’s hands were shaking, and I might have said something, I might have tried to play it off like a joke, but Vince’s jaw was set and his eyes were only on Paul. He reached out and took Paul’s hands in his own, thumb rubbing over his fingers.

Matty clutched her hands to her chest, eyes suspiciously shiny.

Larry looked back and forth between Vince and Paul, a grin on his face, probably already counting the amount of grandchildren he would get from this.

Nana wiped her eyes.

Corey held a hand over his mouth.

Brian ate more bacon.

Wheels yawned from his spot on the couch.

Darren stared at Vince, eyes wide.

Octavius looked really fucking bored.

And Paul Auster said, “
What
?”

“Marry me,” Vince said again.

“Are you being serious?” Paul demanded.

“Uhh,” Vince said.

“Because I swear to god, Vince.”

“Uhh,” Vince said. “Yes.”

“This is so amazing,” I said to Brian.

“This isn’t just you freaking out about the whole kid thing?”

“Uhh,” Vince said. “No.”

“I was there the day they met,” I said to Corey.

“And you’ve actually thought this through?”

“Uhh,” Vince said. “Mostly.”

Paul’s face softened and he got that look he had every now and then, the one where you could tell he was thinking about just how lucky he was to have Vince. I just hoped Vince knew how lucky he was to have Paul. “You don’t have to do this, baby,” he said. “If you’re not ready, we don’t have to do this right now.”

“I bought you a ring.” Vince scratched the back of his neck. “Like, five weeks ago.”

“You
what
?” Paul shrieked.

“I did not see that coming,” Nana said. “Well played, sir.”

“I was going to do it next week,” Vince said to Paul. “I was going to take you back to where you hit me with your car.”

“I didn’t
hit
you with my car!” Paul said. “You ran into the door! Everyone knows you’re the one at fault!”

“It’s okay,” Vince said, taking Paul’s hand back in his own. “We’ll have the rest of our lives to work through the vehicular assault you put me through while trying to woo me.”

“I wasn’t
wooing
. There was no
wooing
.”

Vince rolled his eyes. “Right. Because it wasn’t part of your master plan to get me alone in your house while high on painkillers.”

“It
wasn’t
. I wouldn’t even
think
like that.”

“You made me
strip
for you.”

“You took off your clothes all by yourself!”

Vince grinned at him. “I love you, Paul.”

“Oh sweat balls,” Paul said weakly. “You’re being totally serious, aren’t you.”

“Yeah,” Vince said. “I don’t think I’ve been more serious in my life. Well, not since I was seven and was convinced I would grow up to either be Batman or Lion-O from
Thundercats
.”

“Fun fact,” I said. “That was the first TV show I ever got an erection from.”

Paul turned to gape at me.

“Still drunk.” I grimaced in apology. “It wouldn’t be a problem if you two would hurry up, though. Jesus. How long does a proposal take? Say yes so we can freak out.”

“Paul,” Vince said with renewed determination.

“Vince,” Paul said faintly.

“I love you. And maybe I should have waited until later, but if we’re going to have nine kids—”

“We’re having nine what!”

“Yesss,” Larry hissed.

“—then I can’t imagine a better time,” Vince said. “We’re here in front of our friends and family… and Darren’s and Sandy’s one-night stands.”

“This is the most awkward brunch I’ve ever attended,” Octavius said.

“It could have been more awkward,” Corey said. “Trust me, I would know. I’ve had experience. There needed to be wine for it to go completely what-the-fuck.”

“So,” Vince said, voice a little wobbly, “what I’m trying to ask is… Paul Auster, will you marry me?”

We all held our breaths.

“Yeah,” Paul said hoarsely. “Yes. Yes, please. I would like that. Now. Let’s go do this now. Please.”

The smile on Vince’s face was breathtaking as he pulled Paul in for a deep kiss.

I think no one was more surprised than I when I burst into tears.

Alcohol and best friends getting engaged do
not
mix.

“Is there any more bacon?” Brian asked.

“You’ve eaten like a pound of it!” I sobbed. “
There’s no more fucking bacon
.”

It was truly a wonderful brunch.

(Except for Brian.)

(And Octavius.)

(And Darren, but that shouldn’t even need to be mentioned. Right? Because it’s obvious. I mean,
obviously
I wouldn’t want Darren there for
any
reason. Ever.)

“SO,” PAUL
told me at lunch the following Tuesday, “we’re thinking about a spring wedding.”

I was admiring his ring, a thin platinum band that showed Vince had far more taste than I ever gave him credit for. It was flashy, but not overtly so. Vince obviously knew what he was doing. Apparently, according to Paul, no one knew, not even Darren. Sneaky man, that one was. This was the first time I was seeing it, given that Paul had called in sick to the office yesterday, claiming he’d come down with a twenty-four-hour virus, which really meant he and Vince were having just-got-engaged monkey sex. I loved them both dearly, but there were some things I really didn’t want to think about, especially since I still had yet to recover from the sex dream. Paul had tried to tell me about how Vince was a big fan of rimming, but there was just something off about hearing my best friend talk about getting his butthole licked.

“Hmm?” I said, distracted by the shiny. “That’s good. Gives a nice, long engagement because surely you don’t mean this spring, which is only like five months away. Because that would just be ridiculous, given that there is clearly not enough time to put together the wedding I deserve for you to have. Right, Paul?”

“Uh,” Paul said. “Have I said how pretty you look today? So pretty.”

I looked up at him and gripped his hand tightly. “Right, Paul?”

He looked nervous as the waitress came back to our table, bringing us our salads. I noticed Paul’s had far less fried chicken in it than he normally got. (“Paul, that’s not as healthy as you’re making it out to be.” “It’s green. There are tomatoes.”) “Watching our figure?” I asked lightly.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to lose a few pounds before the wedding.”

“Who told you that you needed to do that?”

“Down, girl,” he said. “Put the nails away. This is something I thought of all on my own.”

“You’re perfect just the way you are.”

“I know,” he said.

“Do you?”

“Mostly. But if I want to do this, then why can’t I?”

I shrugged. “Just as long as you’re doing it for the right reasons, baby doll. You do you.”

“So, look,” he said. “Here’s the thing.”

“No one has ever had anything good to say when starting a sentence
here’s the thing
,” I told him.

“You don’t know that,” he said. “Gandhi could have been all, like, ‘Here’s the thing: love everyone and junk.’”

“Right.” I wondered if I could just steal the ring from his hand without him noticing because he didn’t deserve to wear something so precious if he was saying what I think he was saying. “Because Gandhi sounds just like an errant fruitcake making up excuses.”

“God,” Paul said, “the sentences that come out of your mouth should shock me more than they do. I don’t know what that says about me.”

“Deflecting,” I said. “Out with it.”

“March,” he said.

“March,” I repeated flatly. “As in this coming March. Paul. It’s October. Are you out of your
mind
? Why, picking out the flower arrangements alone could take up to six months to get right! No, I’m sorry, but that is simply unacceptable. Tell Vince the wedding is off. You two can’t be trusted to handle it correctly and therefore it shouldn’t happen at all.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “Not going to happen. I’m sort of invested in the whole marriage thing now that I know it’s real. Had you asked me about this last week, I would have laughed and made fun of whoever was getting married. Now that it’s me, it’s sacred and I will not stand for any backtalk. Also, don’t move to Texas. You don’t look good with big hair.”

“That is a slanderous
lie
and you know it. I look good with
any
kind of hair.”

“Cher circa 1987.”

“Oh,” I said, grimacing. “Yeah. I forgot about that. That was a mistake that I will never be able to unsee.”

“It hurt us all,” Paul agreed.

“No marriage.”

“Yes marriage. So much marriage.”

“Speaking of,” I said. “How in the hell did neither of us know about this? I love him, you know I do, but you’re obviously giving Vince too much leeway. It’s time to tighten the leash a little bit. Who knows what other surprises could be waiting for you.”

“Like. Sexy surprises?”

I nodded. “Or like surprise fisting. No one likes surprise fisting, Paul.”

“How do you know?”

“Trust me.”

The waitress walked over to our table.

“You’ve been fisted?” Paul asked me, sounding disgusted and impressed.

The waitress immediately turned around and walked the other direction.

“Almost.”

“How does one almost get fisted?”

“There were four fingers with the promise of a thumb,” I said.

“The promise of a thumb,” Paul repeated through a mouthful of arugula and raspberry vinaigrette.

“The promise of a thumb,” I agreed. “It was a promise that was never fully realized as I came to the conclusion that I was not one for sitting on an arm.”

“I saw a fisting video once,” Paul said. “The guy looked like he enjoyed it, but I couldn’t help but think what it would be like to walk around with your arm smelling like butt.”

“That’s what enemas are for,” I said, mixing another sugar into my tea. “You get clean and fresh on the inside before so there’s no arm-butt smell.”

“And I suppose you can’t eat before getting fisted,” Paul said. “Digestion and all that. I assume there’s no after-Thanksgiving fisting.”

“That has the potential to be messy.” I frowned. “How did we get to talking about fisting after Thanksgiving?”

Paul shrugged. “How do we get anywhere about anything we talk about?”

“That’s scary and terrifying and also mostly true,” I said. “This is all Vince’s fault. Damn him and his sneak proposals that make me have feelings. I
hate
having feelings.”

“Sure,” he said. “But what does that say about you that
you
didn’t know?”

“I’m a failure as a best friend and overall nosy person,” I admitted. “I didn’t even see this coming. I’ve failed you, baby doll. Maybe you’d be better off finding another fabulous drag queen to be friends with.”

Paul shook his head. “No one’s more fabulous than you.”

“That was a test,” I told him seriously. “And you just passed. Congratulations. There is absolutely no one more fabulous than I.”

“Deflecting,” he mocked. “We’re getting married. In March.”

“March,” I said, trying it out on my tongue. “A March wedding. A wedding. In March. Helena Handbasket cordially invites you to the March wedding of Paul and Vince.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I let it out slowly. It didn’t feel quite right, but I could work with it. If I had to. I opened my eyes. “Okay,” I said. “I can deal with this.”

“Good,” he said. “And I love you. Remember that when I tell you this next part. And can you put down the fork?”

“There’s
more
?”

“Uh. Yes?”

“Am I going to get stabby?” I asked, because it’d been a good long while since I’d felt stabby. Two days, at least.

“Possibly.”

I put down the fork, but I kept it close. Nobody told me I couldn’t get stabby and got away with it. “Continue,” I said.

“Okay,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I love you.”

“You said that already,” I reminded him.

“So. I want you to be my best man.”

“Bless your heart,” I said sweetly. I dropped my voice. “Now get to the stabby part.”

“Darren is going to be Vince’s.”

“Close, but not quite a stabby offense,” I said. “I figured that would probably happen.”

He winced. “Ah. We… want. A. Hmm. Small wedding?”

I blinked. “I’m sorry. You want a what?”

“Small wedding,” he said. “You know. Not that big of a deal. So. Like. Um. No flowers. No churches. No engagement dinners or anything like that. Not a lot of guests. We can have a quiet civil ceremony and then some kind of party afterward. And that’s it.”