be way too jealous to let a guy I dated dance naked in a roomful of strangers. In my opinion, in a relationship, that should be for my eyes only. Or else, what’s left that’s special, just between us?”
“Damn,” he says. “Well, I guess in the grand scheme of things, a wasted hour or two is better than dating a jaded, bitter queen.”
“Hey!” I say, trying to grab his hands over the table—because I feel bad that I hurt him, not because I want to rescue the date. But too late. He yanks them away and shoves them under the table. We still have a check coming. Can I just get up and leave? Will he make a scene? I can’t believe I almost got hit by a car for this guy!
“I still like a LOT about you and where you’re going,” I say. “And I know I’m spouting every line you’ve ever read in a bad gay romance novel...But would you want to be friends?”
“You’re right, Marty. That does sound pretty fucking predictable. And I’m sorry you can’t pick and choose the pieces of me you find acceptable.”
I’m back on the defensive: “I’m sorry too.” I made a peace offering. Forget him if he won’t take it.
“And just so you can be extra sure we both made the right decision here, I’m dancing at this party called eWrecksion tonight. There’s a bunch of gay porn stars from New York Screwniversity doing a live sex show on stage! It’s right up your alley. Hey, maybe I’LL even get naked up on the go-go box.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Chase grins. He’s not finished with me yet. Something tells me this is the most fun he’s had on a date in ages. “Oh, and by the way—Marty Brayden? My bad date? He’s the STAR of that gay porn site. We fucked on camera in front of thousands of strangers. That was my most recent ‘date.’ Maybe we’ll reprise it after I see him tonight! Have I thoroughly repulsed you yet?”
“Actually? Yes.”
My phone vibrates. It’s Stanford. Like a guardian angel here to rescue me.
“It’s my agent.”
“Oh! Of course! How perfect. Run along, you talented thespian. Clearly you have more important places to be than associating with lowlifes like me. I’ll even pick up the check! Hope you don’t mind that the dollar bills paying for it were probably scrunched under my taint at some point.”
Gross. I already decided I don’t like him. Does he really have to hammer it home? Doesn’t he realize that, with his admission about that night with Marty Brayden, he just confirmedeverything I accused go-go boys of? I want to say so many things now that I’m feeling both righteous AND righteously pissed. But Stanford might have news about
Wicked
. I drop a twenty on the table to cover my food and the tip. “Let me know what you think of Musical Mondays. If you’re bored, just head to the bathroom. The stall farthest on the left has a glass wall instead of a regular one. Bet you can still find a dick to suck, even on a Monday.”
Aaand scene.
I call Stanford back once I get out of the restaurant and across the street, under another scaffold.
“Golden Goose!”
“Sorry I missed ya. You know actors. I was in the middle of a little drama.”
“Naturally. Where are you? In Astoria?”
“Actually, near Union Square. What happened? Did
Wicked
call you back?”
“Even better!” I don’t think I’ve ever heard Stanford this giddy. “We’ve got two seats at an Equity Fights AIDS dinner at a table alongside the casting director you saw today! And he said he can’t wait to talk about you!”
“Oh my God! Are you serious? When?”
“In an hour! How do you look?”
Wrinkly, still slightly damp, and furious at the go-go boy who just went on a bitch bender at me. “Fine, I guess...”
“Fine won’t cut it. It’s jacket and tie. Do you have those? You won’t have enough time to go back to Astoria...”
“Crap! No.”
“Okay, okay. That’s fine. You’re an actor, I used to be one. We can improvise, right? Meet me at the office. I’ve got a spare
“Damn,” he says. “Well, I guess in the grand scheme of things, a wasted hour or two is better than dating a jaded, bitter queen.”
“Hey!” I say, trying to grab his hands over the table—because I feel bad that I hurt him, not because I want to rescue the date. But too late. He yanks them away and shoves them under the table. We still have a check coming. Can I just get up and leave? Will he make a scene? I can’t believe I almost got hit by a car for this guy!
“I still like a LOT about you and where you’re going,” I say. “And I know I’m spouting every line you’ve ever read in a bad gay romance novel...But would you want to be friends?”
“You’re right, Marty. That does sound pretty fucking predictable. And I’m sorry you can’t pick and choose the pieces of me you find acceptable.”
I’m back on the defensive: “I’m sorry too.” I made a peace offering. Forget him if he won’t take it.
“And just so you can be extra sure we both made the right decision here, I’m dancing at this party called eWrecksion tonight. There’s a bunch of gay porn stars from New York Screwniversity doing a live sex show on stage! It’s right up your alley. Hey, maybe I’LL even get naked up on the go-go box.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Chase grins. He’s not finished with me yet. Something tells me this is the most fun he’s had on a date in ages. “Oh, and by the way—Marty Brayden? My bad date? He’s the STAR of that gay porn site. We fucked on camera in front of thousands of strangers. That was my most recent ‘date.’ Maybe we’ll reprise it after I see him tonight! Have I thoroughly repulsed you yet?”
“Actually? Yes.”
My phone vibrates. It’s Stanford. Like a guardian angel here to rescue me.
“It’s my agent.”
“Oh! Of course! How perfect. Run along, you talented thespian. Clearly you have more important places to be than associating with lowlifes like me. I’ll even pick up the check! Hope you don’t mind that the dollar bills paying for it were probably scrunched under my taint at some point.”
Gross. I already decided I don’t like him. Does he really have to hammer it home? Doesn’t he realize that, with his admission about that night with Marty Brayden, he just confirmedeverything I accused go-go boys of? I want to say so many things now that I’m feeling both righteous AND righteously pissed. But Stanford might have news about
Wicked
. I drop a twenty on the table to cover my food and the tip. “Let me know what you think of Musical Mondays. If you’re bored, just head to the bathroom. The stall farthest on the left has a glass wall instead of a regular one. Bet you can still find a dick to suck, even on a Monday.”
Aaand scene.
I call Stanford back once I get out of the restaurant and across the street, under another scaffold.
“Golden Goose!”
“Sorry I missed ya. You know actors. I was in the middle of a little drama.”
“Naturally. Where are you? In Astoria?”
“Actually, near Union Square. What happened? Did
Wicked
call you back?”
“Even better!” I don’t think I’ve ever heard Stanford this giddy. “We’ve got two seats at an Equity Fights AIDS dinner at a table alongside the casting director you saw today! And he said he can’t wait to talk about you!”
“Oh my God! Are you serious? When?”
“In an hour! How do you look?”
Wrinkly, still slightly damp, and furious at the go-go boy who just went on a bitch bender at me. “Fine, I guess...”
“Fine won’t cut it. It’s jacket and tie. Do you have those? You won’t have enough time to go back to Astoria...”
“Crap! No.”
“Okay, okay. That’s fine. You’re an actor, I used to be one. We can improvise, right? Meet me at the office. I’ve got a spare
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