Page 35 of A Straight Line

“Well, the thing in the garage was a third thing,” I said.

Denny looked up from the trays, his mouth stretched with food, and smiled at me. The effect was comical, so I allowed myself to laugh. Having complimented him on his skills in the garage, Denny was distracted from the food, finally chewing what was in his mouth so he could swallow. Then he sauntered around the kitchen island, his chest puffed out, and approached me.

“I’m also a good dancer.” He crowed.

I didn’t want to tell him “no” once again, so I changed the subject.

“You seem so sure that Bang Bang will show up,” I said. “Why? I mean, I’ve never known Bang Bang to show up this late for a performance. She was always on stage at the exact moment she was supposed to be whenever I’d catch a show.”

“She was never late.” He agreed.

“And, I mean, maybe I never spent much personal time with Bang Bang—no one but the elders seem to really know her in that way,” I said, “but she never struck me as someone who was this freaking fashionably late.”

“That’s true.”

“So,” I said, “why are you so sure?”

Denny grinned.

“Maybe I know something you don’t know?” He suggested.

“You and Bang Bang best friends?” I chuckled.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Denny said.

“Then why, damnit?” I nudged him.

“I just have a feeling.” He shrugged. “Bang Bang always comes through. And I know she would never leave Harry and Vic high and dry. She certainly wouldn’t do it on a night when all the elders are here to see it. They’d bring it up and give her hell about it any time they saw her from here until eternity.”

“True.” I agreed. “I just…”

“What?” Denny urged me on.

“I guess I need a sprinkling of her queer magic, too.” I shrugged. “Bang Bang always makes things better.”

Denny smiled.

“Yeah,” He said. “Harry and Vic have done a great job, but it’s not really a great party until Bang Bang shows up. It’s certainly not as queer as it can be until she shows up.”

“Agreed.”

“You know,” Denny leaned in, and at first, I thought he was trying to kiss me, but at the last minute, he held back, “you could use another drink.”

“Well,” I said, “if you’re buying?”

He winked. “I think I might know where we can score a reasonably priced beverage.”

“Oh, yeah? Do you—”

We both jumped at the sound of hoots and hollers as a gaggle of younger—and surprisingly, shirtless—gay men our age poured into the kitchen. Denny and I were parted like the Red Sea as the men infested the space like a hoard of cockroaches. Cupboards were swung open as the men chattered incessantly about “finding the booze.” My first reaction was to angrily demand who these men thought they were, just marching into someone’s house and going through their kitchen cabinets. However, over the din, I caught one of the men, some guy in tight blue jeans, cowboy boots, with a rainbow kerchief tied around his neck say: “Harry said the ‘good tequila’ was in the cabinet by the fridge.”

Ah. The elders had sent the youngers to do their bidding.

Denny and I just gave each other confused smiles as we stood there, shirtless men dashing about around and between us. Liquor bottles were pulled out of cabinets, “hoots” and “whoops” were made, and men started heading back outside with their plunder. As the last shirtless man—a guy with the largest pecs I’d ever seen and more abs than I could count at first glance—dashed between Denny and me, I spotted a giant bottle of Patrón in his hand. When his eyes caught me standing there, he stopped abruptly in front of me, the tequila cradled in his arm at his side like a baby.

“Are you Russy?” He asked.

He actually had on body glitter.