“I-I-In love with me?” Ian grabbed the towel, hiding his face. His cheeks and ears burned. He should have found a better hiding place. He could perform another pratfall. Half the wasted dessert was still on the floor. Too late. Two of Ricky’s new temporary warriors swooped in before someone else got hurt. Now someone grabbed the towel to assist Angry Anita’s dumbfounded victim. “I don’t need help,” he growled. He gazed at his boyfriend’s worried face. “Ricky–”
“This belongs to you,” Ricky said in a hurry, gently putting it in his hand. “I was dusting under the cash register. I’m sorry I read it. I suspected Jake wrote you a letter when you ran off after Mr. Meyers gave it to you. Again, I’m sorry, Ian.”
His savior refused to look him in the eyes. Was Ricky that disappointed in him? He didn’t have to think about it. He tore the letter in half, then more pieces. Ricky’s coffee brown eyes widened. He said a wordless, “Are you sure?” Ian nodded yes and, despite being a gooey mess, kissed him. Not New Year’s G-rated smooch for the paparazzi and hacks. It was his coming-out kiss. It had to be front-page sweet. Two people who loved each other engaged in a New Year’s tradition. A New Year’s kiss. They happened to be both men. Maybe Anita didn’t get it. That was her problem. His Grandma Hillary in Florida, forever Republican like Bee, called the following day to offer her condolences about Jake and to give him hell about Ricky. Why didn’t he tell her himself? She had read it in the National Enquirer! As Ian Hornsby’s Number One fan, she kinda already knew. Now the residents at her retirement home doubt how close they are. But she still loved him.
He wanted to erase that kiss with this kiss. The real deal. No reporters except for Ricky’s new friend, Sebastian, for whichever paper he worked this week. He couldn’t guess how this queer crowd would react. Kitty had two hours to dish the history–the dirt. Ricky finally looked him in the eyes before he shut them. His lover always did that. It was the one that counted.
Ricky’s lips were coated in Chapstick Lip Balm. Strawberry. He didn’t struggle to open his mouth. Melt in the steaminess of his mouth, then clash with the flicker of his tongue. He felt his boyfriend’s naked back, also feverish, slippery. But he’d been wearing his Fantabulous! uniform. Ricky couldn’t have taken it off, pressed close to Ian. He couldn’t do it unless they were alone. He heard mushy awws and frenzied clapping. They weren’t alone. His heart thundered in his ears. His eyes blinked open. His partner opened his eyes at the same moment. They were caramel brown. Not Ricky. Jake! He blinked again. Back to coffee brown. Ricky! He pulled away as his mouth went dry.
“I’m sorry,” he said, forcing a smile.
“For kissing your boyfriend?” Ricky raised his eyebrows. “Wasn’t that why you opened this bar? So you could make out with your boyfriend? I don’t know how I’m gonna make up for reading your letter.”
Boyfriend? Was that why he was thinking of Jake while he was kissing Ricky? Despite his bravado about shredding his letter, he felt secretly guilty. He said, “Tonight was enough. You don’t owe me anything. You never have. You never will.”
Ricky grabbed his hand, puckered up to kiss again. Ian would never let him go.
“Get a room!” Kitty Darling screamed into her mic. “Tell ‘em Kitty sent you, you’ll get a discount at the No-Tell-Motel.”
More happy tears filled Ian’s eyes. Gone was the wooden stage they’d installed after Ian was long gone. At least it complemented the bar. Paranoid that a customer’s cigarette would eventually set it aflame, Ricky replaced it with three aluminum platforms certified fire-resistant and heavy-duty. Kitty took exception. It’s our history. Ian joked that the almost 3000-pound load capacity meant her alter ego, Ernesto, didn’t need to go on a diet. Naturally, Kitty Darling changed her vote. Grander props, costumes, and wigs weren’t a Catch-22.
Kitty ditched the demure pink outfit and tiara, upgrading to a statuesque and patriotic red, white, and blue gown with stars modestly covering her tits. The other queens in the crowd bit their tongues as Fantabulous! Queen Bee balanced a wig depicting seven firework explosions. Her most eye-catching accessory, a shirtless Tyler, ably stood by in matching patriotic boxers. “Welcome all and one to the grand reopening of Fantabulous! As you can see, Chance and I dressed, or in his case, undressed, for the occasion. Ignore the fireworks outside by the crazy lady. I know you’ve missed us. If you haven’t, then, Markus, SHOW THE BITCHES OUT! Everyone else, grab a drink or two or twenty, except for you, I…” She looked in Ian’s direction, then about-faced. “Go fucking celebrate! Unlike Jake, we dodged a bullet. That was in bad taste, so Jacob would’ve approved!” She gazed up, smiling. “To get off our merrymaking, Chance will get you off for free. Knowing our little–I mean–BIG BOY here, he’ll be charging up the nose later.” She pinched her nose, snorting to plenty of laughs. Her act hadn’t changed much since Ian discovered her.
Groove Is in the Heart by Dee-Lite played. It was Tyler’s turn. Ricky’s new setup also meant that go-go boys were within pawing distance of the eager customers. The more hands, the more tips. Ian felt a burning in his chest. Closer than ever, Ricky couldn’t keep his eyes off their barback/go-go boy/whatever else Tinkerbell did. His body riveted him. Especially his back. His butt? He cleared his throat. Ricky didn’t flinch as Tyler shook his ass for his feverish admirers, who invited him with dollar bills. That included his boyfriend, who stuffed a five in his red, white, and blue from behind. His eyes were obsessed with Tyler’s lower back.
Not finding whatnot, the homing pigeon returned. Ricky hunched over.
Ian whispered, “I didn’t know you were a butt man, Ricardo Luna.”
“I-I-It’s not what it looks like,” he said. “I saw something this afternoon while he was mopping the patio. OOL was tattooed on his back. Now, it’s gone.”
From a distance, Ian studied the go-go boy’s well-decorated back. Many, many tattoos, but not the one Ricky sought. “How close were you when you saw it?”
He sweated, “He was outside. I was inside. It was by accident.”
Ian touched his cheek. “I wasn’t digging up the past.”
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