Page 2 of A Straight Line

“Jo? The Facts of Life?” I frowned.

“Having a young person in the house is so rewarding.” Uncle Harry deadpanned. “Now I hope the lesbians do try to adopt you as one of their own.”

Harry’s hand dropped from the doorknob as he clutched his chest and twirled around to leave my bedroom.

“Vic!” Uncle Harry screeched down the hallway. “We have a lesbian infestation! Pour me a finger—two fingers—of bourbon!”

Then he was gone. I turned back to the mirror.

“I do look like a lesbian,” I mumbled to myself.

Uncle Harry’s dramatics were uncalled for, though. Obviously, it takes more than one lesbian to constitute an infestation. There was no point in trying to fix my outfit or try something else on for the party. My laundry hamper was full, and all of my clothes that were clean were either too casual or too formal for the party. Either way, the “vicious old queens” would have their say in the end. Accepting that what I had on was what I’d be wearing for the rest of the night was my best course of action. I could always hope that my outfit was so offensive that everyone would avoid me, and the chore of pretending to be interesting and making small talk would resolve itself.

The house was nearly silent as I exited my bedroom and made my way towards the kitchen. Uncle Vic’s muffled voice reached my ears, though I could tell he was on the phone and no longer arguing with Uncle Harry. He was probably on the phone, sorting out the catastrophic problem with the caterers. When I entered the big transitional style kitchen, Uncle Harry was sitting on one of the stools in front of the big island, sipping a dark amber liquid from a highball glass. Uncle Vic spoke calmly and evenly into his cell phone, though he paused to give me a smile and a wave before returning to his task.

Harry looked positively unsettled from our interaction in the bedroom, which only made my eyes roll back in my head as I shuffled over and lifted myself up onto one of the empty stools on the other side of the island.

“Drama queen,” I mumbled.

“I’m sorry, darling.” Uncle Harry quipped, the highball glass halfway to his mouth. “Lower your voice. Everything is positively deafening over that whisper of an outfit.”

Uncle Vic slapped at Uncle Harry’s shoulder reproachfully as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone.

“I get it,” I grumbled. “My clothes are boring and plain. I’m a bad gay man. Shoot me.”

“I would need to lay down drop cloths first, but you seem to be wearing them.” Harry sniped before taking another sip from his drink.

“Sooooo bitchy,” I said.

“My dear nephew,” Harry lowered his glass as Vic finished up his phone call, “I don’t point out the glaringly—and offensively—obvious fashion faux pas I see to not be called a bitch.”

My eyes were rolling once again.

“Thank you, that would be lovely,” Vic said into the phone. “Goodbye.”

Vic tapped the phone screen with his thumb and laid it down on the island before turning his attention to me.

“You look handsome as always, Russ.” He smiled. “Don’t let this old fart tell you otherwise.”

“Old fart?” Harry nearly choked on his drink. “I’m simply trying to get the boy to understand LSP, Victor. Is that so wrong of me?”

“L…SP?” I asked.

“Lesbian Safety Precautions.” Uncle Vic waved me off as he turned to Uncle Harry. “Stop it. Drink your bourbon and relax. The caterers will be here in thirty minutes. Things will be fine.”

“It will be nearly six o’clock then, Victor!” Harry was scandalized. “The party starts at seven!”

“Professionals can set up in minutes, Harry.” Victor reached over to pat his hand. “Stop worrying so much.”

“Fine, fine.” Harry lifted his drink again, his head still wobbling slightly. “But you know Dan and Rafi will show up early enough to qualify as hosts.”

“Just as I know Bang Bang will be hours late.” Uncle Vic agreed. “That reporter from TheGazette will be here at six-thirty to talk about the party and the end of an era.”

“What’s Lesbian Safety Precautions?” I asked.

Uncle Vic rolled his eyes as Harry sipped his bourbon.

“Your Uncle here,” He jabbed a thumb in Harry’s general direction, “has a theory that the lesbians will absorb any wayfaring young gay into their inner circle and get them to do their bidding. He has a severe dislike of—”