“Oh my God, are you kidding me?” I gasped out loud.
A small crowd rushed to the bar to buy little plastic ribbons as Sean started dancing, moving his hips to the music while he popped the buttons off his shirt. Heat rushed to my cheeks as he peeled off his shirt, rolling his shoulders and casting sexy glances at the horny boys rushing the stage. He had a great body with heaps of freckled skin dusted with red curls and slinking tattoos. He threw his shirt into the crowd and flexed his pecs playfully and when he started undoing his jeans, the crowd went wild. He gave the audience his back, and started shaking his hips, his jeans sliding down his behind to reveal the leather thong he was wearing. I burst out in laughter, never imagining he’d get onstage to do a strip tease. He’d always seemed so reserved and polite.
Naked in nothing but a skimpy little thong, people pushed the ribbons into the straps of his underwear, tucked them underneath his hips and under the thin strip of leather that disappeared between his ass cheeks. Someone tried sneaking a ribbon into his ass crack and he smacked their hand away teasingly.
Ronnie came up behind me and pushed a ribbon in my hand.
“No way!” I said, shaking my head.
Sean pointed at me and curled his finger toward him. Jere, the son of a bitch pushed me toward the stage.
“No, I can’t—” I forgot what I was going to say because all I could see was a tangle of colorful ribbons twisted and tied around his hips, and the bulge of his very impressive package.
My cheeks were flaming as he lowered his hips, and I stuffed my ribbon into the thin strip. My shaky hand had nothing to do with my injury. Jere pulled me against him with a laugh and tossed Sean a thumbs up and I couldn’t help soaking up the joy. The flutter of hope took flight in my chest as I returned to my booth with Jere, his bright smile infectious. The party wound on and I allowed myself to enjoy it because I could.
More people came around to greet me and the owners of the club, two married men in their sixties, sat with me and regaled my mom with stories. Jere stretched his arm behind me, and I rested my head against him, glad they’d talked me into coming. The reporter fromReal Queer Voicesshowed up to offer his support and I nearly keeled over in tears.
“Are you okay?” Jere whispered.
I nodded. “Just feeling the love right now.”
“Good,” he murmured. “That’s the point, I think.”
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said, grabbing onto my cane. “I’d like to go by myself.”
I’d expected him to list all the reasons why I shouldn’t go by myself, but he simply said, “Okay.”
I was careful as I made my way to the bathroom, using the wall to steady myself, but every successful step reinforced my confidence. I weaved through the men in the bathroom, shaking my head at the sex noises coming from one of the stalls and relieved myself in the urinal. When I was done, I rested my back against the broken tiles, under the little window that was always open.
I was going to be okay.
I am going to be okay!
The guys going at it in the stall had drawn snickers and cheers from the others as their banging increased. I wasn’t sure how it happened, whether the vibrations in the stall or someone not looking where they were going, but someone set off a train reaction, knocking over a broom and dustpan propped in the corner. It was such a mundane thing to happen, something that had happened hundreds of times as life went on, but the stick hit the floor with a resoundingclang. It pierced my ears, echoed through me, cracking my bones, and ripping my muscles. It sounded a lot like metal breaking bone.
I couldn’t breathe all of the sudden, my lungs tightening, my chest compressing. Black patches drifted in front of my eyes, and I’d taken to floating in the bathroom.
“Hey, you okay?”
The pressure of a hand on my shoulder sent me into a panic, that broom’s clang ringing in my ears. Loud voices, cruel words… thecrack of boneand the pain in my head.
“I’m dying,” I said to no one and anyone that might hear, but it came out as an unintelligible murmur as I fell to my knees. Every second was an hour as fear pounded through me and the black sea of nothingness flooded the bathroom, intent on dragging me down to the depths permanently. The shadow monsters were all around me now, seizing the opportunity to pounce.
“I got you.”
The only thing that kept my head above water was the man I loved holding me in his arms.
“It’s okay, Danny, I’ve got you.”
I cried into his shirt, aware he’d lifted me into his arms to take me somewhere—where, I couldn’t be sure—dozens of curious eyes watching, judging, pitying the broken man.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jere
I hadn’t slept all night and as the sun rose to a clear Saturday morning, the weariness pinching my eyes. But I couldn’t settle down because watching Danny sleep was far more important than satisfying my body’s need for rest. Mrs. B. was still asleep in her room, while Ronnie slumbered on the couch downstairs. A chill floated in the air that had nothing to do with the late September morning. I pulled the covers down over Danny’s exposed feet, his face drawn tight as if he were uncomfortable, even unconscious.
Everything had gone well last night, despite the news-bomb the detective had dropped, the party making Danny smile in that special way I craved. I should have gone with him to the bathroom, but I could never have foreseen something triggering his memory in the way it had. And because the universe was a bitch, the memory had come back to him when I wasn’t there.
