Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love (16 page)

“And Gay Rule #7 is?”

“My dear Secret, Gay Rule #7 is one of the most important rules of them all, and it’s
the
most important rule whilst cruising. Simply stated:
distance
is a girl’s best friend. Case in point: I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve stared from afar at what I thought was a cute, young thing only to find upon closer inspection that what I was cruising was indeed a lesbian. I mean, they all have these thin, little boy bodies and short haircuts and tattooed arms, so it’s a natural mistake. Still, it gives me the creeps every time it happens. And then, of course, there are the related but no less depressing
neck-downers
.”

“Neck-downers?” That was a new one on me.

“Neck-downers are those unfortunate souls that have stupendous bodies, but are less lucky in the looks department. From a distance, they look really yummy, but up close, run away, Girlfriend, run away. Anyway, while sitting on that bench, I was thinking about Gay Rule #7. I mean, he looked fine from thirty feet away, but what if I made an effort to go over only to discover that he was some malformed hunchback or something far worse. Would it be worth the risk? See, that was my dilemma.”

“But you went over anyway?” Because, yes, I did, in fact, know him that well.

“Didn’t have to; he came over to me. At first, I thought he was getting up to leave. He walked away from me and around the square, but about five minutes later, he was sitting ten feet away from me and to my left. I was thrilled, because I thought I lost my only chance for some nookie. And then I casually glanced over, and there he was, staring back at me and nodding.”

“Cruising, apparently, has the same rules from country to country,” I guessed.

He nodded. “Thankfully so. Still, I could just barely make out what he looked like. He was definitely a Chicano and had very dark hair and what appeared to be a thin mustache. That and he had on loose white pants and a loose white shirt and sandals. I could also see that he was thin and my height. So, finally, I thought, here was a decent prospect. After a couple of looks away and then back at him, only to find him still staring at me intently, I made my move and asked, ‘Where did you disappear to?’ He slid over to the bench next to mine and answered in a wonderfully thick accent, ‘The bathroom.’ Thankfully, Secret, up close, he looked much better than I had anticipated. He had beautiful brown skin and deep dark eyes and was cute and young and, from the looks he was giving me, quite eager to get it on.”

“Which made two of you,” I couldn’t help but add, stating the obvious.

“Duh,” came the also obvious reply. “Anyway, I made the next move, hopping over to the bench he was sitting on and plopping down next to him. He smiled up at me as I did this and introduced himself as Hector. Said with his accent, it was music to my ears. He was chatty and friendly and his English was great. Living in a resort apparently helped greatly with his pronunciation and diction.”

Sparkle got up and put two chairs facing each other. Then he jumped from one to other as he recounted the rather short conversation.

“‘Do you come here often?’ Old line, but it seemed appropriate, said I.”

“‘No, not often. Just sometimes,’ he answered and gave me a mischievous grin.”

“‘And since you’re sitting here with me, I take it you like Anglos?’ He answered my question by taking my hand and placing it on his crotch. There was a noticeably hard lump underneath the thin cotton fabric and he let out a barely audible groan when I squeezed his growing prick. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ To which I promptly added, ‘Would you like to come back to my hotel with me, Hector?’ He nodded and we were up and off the bench in about a half a second.

“We hailed a cab and headed back to my hotel after that. And the ride back, Secret, was not without its highpoints. See, Hector’s thin cotton pants had no zipper, just a flap in front, and, it turned out, he wasn’t wearing any underwear. A few minutes into our ride, I looked over at him, and he was smiling back at me and motioning with his eyes for me to look down. I did, of course, and was greeted with a semi-hard, short, thick, brown dick. I was in foreskin heaven, but resisted the urge to reach over and grab it. Lord only knew what the cabby would’ve done if he had caught us. And, since I, too, was not with underwear, I returned the favor and gave Hector a gander at my own manhood. He obviously liked what he saw, because his was now standing at full attention.

“When I realized that we were getting near my hotel, I put my prick away, with Hector followed suit. Not that it mattered, really, as you could still plainly see it beneath his pants. Fortunately, it appeared to have settled down by the time we got out of the cab. I mean, I didn’t want any scenes in the hotel.” He sighed, loudly. “But, alas, that was not to be.”

“Uh oh,” I interrupted.

“Understatement, Secret,” he told me. “Anyway, Hector and I made our way through the lobby, and were walking toward the stairs when we heard a voice telling us to stop. We turned around to see the front desk person running at us and shouting, ‘No, Senor.’ He kept shouting this until he got just in front of us. Then he nervously informed me that they didn’t allow prostitutes in the hotel. Now then, whatever word goes beyond mortified,
that’s
what I was at right at that very moment.

“I looked over at Hector and he was looking down at his feet. I took that as a sign that I had made a truly grievous error in judgment. Then the hotel guy pointed a finger at Hector and told him to get out. Without saying a word or even looking at me, Hector did just that. Honestly, I felt horrible for the both of us. Then the hotel guy put the icing on the cake. He apologized for the scene, but he said that the hotel had very strict rules about such things. He also told me that Hector was no more than sixteen or seventeen years old and that I was very lucky not to have been caught by the police. I agreed with that, thanked the man, and turned quickly to go back to my room. Needless to say, I was not a very happy Sparkle. Horny, yes, happy, no. And in two languages, no less.”

“So,” I ventured, “was there anything about your trip that you are happy about?”

“I’m happy I’m back. I’m happy to be able to shower under a nozzle that isn’t five and a half feet from the ground. And, mostly, I’m happy that Miss Mary Mack is working right here at Classics II. That’s it,” he answered, emphatically.

“And you’re happy to see me, of course.”

“Oh, sure, of course. (So much for the nice, sweet guy I missed so much.) Anyway, my beloved Secret, I must dash and shuck this nasty South of the Border aura off of me. I’ll call you later. Ta!” And then he rushed out, bags in hand, ass swaying like a palm tree on a windy day.

Honestly, I was glad he was back, all things considered. Sadly, not everyone else felt the same. See, ten minutes later, Mack came out to the front of the store and asked, “Is he gone yet?”

It wasn’t what he asked so much as how he asked it that made me nervous. I sensed impending doom. Gingerly, I inquired, “Why? What’s wrong with Sparkle?” (You’d have thought I’d know better than to ask a silly question like that one.)

“That guy is the phoniest, most vile, slickest piece of vermin I’ve ever met. And, oh… oh… when he calls me Miss Mary Mack, I just want to slap the shit out of him. I swear, if he calls me that one more time, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll strangle the son of a bitch.” Mack was fuming. It was sort of scary, really, as I’d never seen him anything but pleasant before. Of course, I had seen Sparkle cause this reaction before, so I wasn’t all that surprised. “Is he really a friend of yours?” he asked me.

“Best.” I cowered as I said it.

“You’re joking, right?” I shook my head that I wasn’t, and he relaxed a bit and gave me a grin. “Well, there must be something good about him then if that’s the case. How’s about, when you know that he’s coming down here, you let me know and I’ll retreat to the back office to study?” We shook on it. I knew that it was just forestalling the inevitable, but why do something today that you can put off until tomorrow? (
That
you can quote me on.)

That night, Sparkle came over and looked considerably more relaxed. Actually, he looked somewhere between drunk and stoned. “Girlfriend,” I asked, “have you had one, or six, too many?”

“No, I haven’t had a drink all day,” he answered, calmly.

“Why? What’s wrong?” See, that concerned me.

“Nothing’s wrong. But there was one itty-bitty thing that Mexico had to offer that did make the trip somewhat tolerable.” He reached down as he was talking and came back up, slowly, with a little tote bag that had four medicine bottles in it. “These.” I reached into the bag and looked closely at one of the bottles.

“Xanax?” I asked. “What’s Xanax for again?”

“I think it’s for stress. I’m sure not feeling any, so it must be working.” He definitely looked relaxed as he plopped down on my couch. “FYI, you can buy prescription drugs over the counter in Mexico. You know, I have this whole new respect for the Mexican people now. Oh, and look what else I got.” He shoved the tote bag back at me.

I stared down. “Valium, Percoset, and Vicodin. Oh goodie, it’s a Judy Garland Christmas come early.” (Oh well, if it’s good for the Mexican economy, then it’s okay by me.)

“By the way,” he continued, onto a new but frightfully worse topic, “did M.M.M. have anything to say about me?”

“Oh… well, no, not really (think, Secret, think). He did mention though that he has a boyfriend already. (Hey, that could work.)

“Boyfriend, schmoyfriend. This is San Francisco. If anything, that makes it even more of a sure bet.” (Nope, didn’t work.)

“You know, he’s really busy studying for his Masters and everything; I doubt he has much time for any
extra-curricular
activities,” I added and then prayed. And then crossed my fingers behind my back. And my toes within my sneakers.

“You know something, Secret? If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear that you liked him and were trying to keep him for yourself. Well, Sweetie, I saw him first. So hands off.” He was wagging his finger at me now. I suppose, with all the drugs in his system, that was about the most rage he could muster, which meant that I planned on keeping him medicated as much as possible if this little
problem
was going to continue. (Thank goodness there were enough drugs in that tote bag of his for the both of us.)

***

Immediately, I came up with a plan to keep Mack and Sparkle as far away from each other as I possibly could. I told Sparkle to call me before he came over, at least for a little while, because we would be doing inventory for the next two weeks and I would be too busy to entertain him for most of that time. Since Sparkle requires constant entertaining, my request was agreed upon quite readily. Granted, it was only a Band-Aid on a gaping wound, but I figured that during those two weeks I could either try to convince Mack to like Sparkle or convince Sparkle not to like Mack (or at least not lust after him so obviously). Easy as pie, right? Then again, have you ever tried to bake a pie? Shit takes forever and never turns out near as good as the stuff you buy down at the bakery. Plus, it costs about three times as much as just buying it pre-made. In other words, well, that was enough words already. You figure it out.

In any case, just before Sparkle would show up, Mack would disappear to the back somewhere and I would convince Sparkle that he was either busy doing inventory or studying. For the most part, my plan was working. The two of them were well-separated and there was peace in the valley. Only once in those first few days was there a run in. Sparkle and I had been out front drinking our lattes when I excused myself to go to the bathroom. Upon my return, there was no Sparkle in site. Fearing the worst, I headed for my office.

Sure enough, he was back there flirting with Mack. Now, for his part, Mack was obviously playing nice for my benefit. He laughed at Sparkle’s jokes and kept up his share of the conversation, but even with the smiles and the jocularity, I could tell that, behind it all, Mack was seething with hatred. After a few minutes of this, I convinced Sparkle to let Mack get back to his studying. He agreed and, as he turned to leave, he said, “Ciao, Miss Mary Mack.” Then he walked back to the café. Just as he left the office, I turned to look at Mack, whose fists were clenched, lips pursed, eyes tightly shut. He was, apparently, totally ready to explode.

“Count to ten, Hon,” I whispered to him.

Instead, he mouthed back,
I hate him
. So much for getting Mack to like Sparkle. Maybe I’d have better luck with the reverse strategy.

When I got back to the café, Sparkle was sitting there and was all smiles. “What?” I asked, curious about the look of happiness that spread across his face.

“Oh, nothing,” he said and paused for effect. “But I’m making headway on the Mack front.”

“And you know this how?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“A girl just knows. Anyway, I could see it in his eyes.”

Strange, all I saw was disgust. So I tried a different approach. “Let me ask you something, Sparkle. Could it be that the only reason you like Mack so much is because you can’t have him?”

“Who says I can’t have him?! I will have him! Have you ever known me not to have a man that I wanted?”

Oops, wrong approach. “No, it’s just…” I tried.

“It’s just that you want him and you don’t want me to have him. That’s it. Well, Miss Thing, he’s mine, so back off.” He was way serious this time, so I backed off. There was no use, I finally realized, in trying to get these guys to change their minds. In other words, I’d just have to think up a different strategy.

“Fine, fine. Mack is yours. Take him. Anyway, on to a different topic,” I said, hopefully defusing the situation. “Did I tell you that we’re going to start carrying classic gay books around here?”

His smile returned. “Hey, that’s a good idea. This place needs some queering up. That straight stench kind of hangs in the air around here. Have you noticed it?” he asked.

“Um, I believe that’s the old books,” I replied.