Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love (27 page)

“Oh, because that was the time that they accused me of being a witch and I really wasn’t one. Pretty ironic, huh?”

“Wow, yeah,” Chester whole-heartedly agreed and then again nudged me under the table.

“Yeah, ironic,” I added, with a nudge back. On my other side, sadly, Sharon was brutally kicking me under the table.

Luckily for her, though, the waiter came over at that point and took our orders. Seriously, I wasn’t sure if she was upset about dating this woman or bringing this woman on a date with us. Probably the latter, if history proved anything. But, honestly, you’d think she would’ve known better on both accounts. In any case, we did stop picking on Hester eventually, but that had more to do with the food arriving than any real concern for our witch friend’s feelings. Whichever the case, the food was wonderful, the wine was superb, and the conversation, as per usual, was raunchy and inappropriate. In other words, I was having a marvelous time.

Sometime, midway through our meal, Sparkle excused himself to go to the little boy’s room. A few minutes later, Hester stopped eating and had this weird look on her face. One by one, the rest of us noticed this and stopped eating, all of us staring at her instead.

“Um, is there something wrong, Hester? Are you in need of a Heimlich or something?” I asked, with some real concern.

“Um, I’m getting this strange feeling that something is wrong with your friend Sparkle. You better go check on him.” It was the way she said it that made me jump up. I didn’t really believe she knew anything, but I believed that she believed it, and that was good enough for me.

“No, wait,” she commanded me, “Sven better go in with you.”

Sven stood up, hesitantly, and we both made our way to the john. We walked in just in time, too. Sparkle was jacked up against the wall with a strange and fairly large man’s hand wrapped tight around his throat by then.

“Is there something wrong here, gentlemen?” Sven calmly asked.

“Mind your own fucking business,” the stranger replied, without turning around to look at us.

“Um, the man at the end of your arm
is
my business. I’m his chauffeur.” That got him to turn around, of course, but his hand was still firmly placed over the neck of an ever whitening and gagging Sparkle.

“What the fu… (he started, and then looked up at the much larger Sven)… who the fuck are you? No wait, I don’t give a flying fuck who you are. This faggot here was staring at my dick while I was pissing.”

“Be that as it may,” continued Sven, “I’m going to have to ask you to remove your hand from around his neck.”

“Or else what?” Straight men are so stupid sometimes.

“Or else this…” Sven walked further into the bathroom and, with one hand, gripped the stranger between his neck and shoulder. This had a dual effect. Firstly, he released his grip on Sparkle, who then fell to the ground gasping for air. Secondly, the stranger sank to his knees in what seemed to be a tremendous amount of pain. This was followed by a long string of obscenities.

“Now, I do apologize for my friend’s behavior, but I must ask you to remove yourself from this restroom immediately.” Sven was firm and remained cool and collected the entire time. The guy, realizing he had little choice, stood up, looked at Sparkle, told him that if he ever saw him again without his bodyguard he would finish what he started, and then he left. (And, yup, there’s yet another suspect. Gee, and some people just rack up frequent flyer points. How boring.)

“Well, well, well. Was it worth it?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Sparkle, rubbing his neck and wiping the tears from his eyes, answered, rather characteristically, “Guy had a big fucking dick.”

Sven and I had to laugh at that. Then Sparkle looked up at us and a big grin replaced the grimace that had been there. “Thanks,” he said, massaging his throat, “lucky for me you guys had to pee.”

Sven and I stared at each other, remembering the real reason we’d come back to the bathroom. We told Sparkle the story as we made our way back to the table. Our three remaining dinner companions were staring up at us anxiously when we arrived.

“Well?” Sharon asked.

“Hester was right; Sparkle was in need of saving,” I volunteered. Sharon beamed with pride as Hester turned red in the face. The three of us then thanked her up and down, while she graciously accepted our gratitude. (Only in San Francisco, friend. Only in San Francisco. And, for that, I’m grateful.)

By the time we finished dinner, dessert, and some much needed wine, we’d put the whole bathroom scene out of our heads and were treating Hester like she was one of our own. Sharon was noticeably happier, and I, in turn, was happy for her. It appeared that a witch in the family might be a good thing. Sparkle certainly seemed glad to have her there. Then, uh oh, it happened again.

“Shit, what now?’ Chester asked, looking at Hester. “What could be wrong this time? We’re all here at the table.”

“It’s not one of you. It’s someone connected to you,” she looked shaken as she said it. “We better pay the bill now; I sense a need to rush out of here.” We called the waiter over and started chipping in for our shares of the meal.

“Well, who is it then?” I asked, with some real urgency. Now I believed her and I wanted to know who was in trouble.

“That I can’t tell, but wait, let me try something before the bad news gets to us,” she said and reached into her purse before pulling out a handful of items. Quickly and precisely, she grabbed a dessert plate, piled on some twigs and some gemstones, poured on some oily liquid, and commenced to chanting again. This time, when the other restaurant patrons stared, we didn’t care; we knew that whatever Hester was doing, it was for our own good. When she was done with her mantra, she lit the oily mess, clapped her hands, and shook her bracelets. Chills ran up and down my spine. I prayed that her spell would work. Then I realized how silly that sounded and prayed twice as hard.

“There,” she whispered. “Whoever is in trouble will now be protected from harm, though one of you will have to do a selfless deed in return. I hope you don’t mind, but I had to work something fast, and it was the first spell to pop into my head. Your friend is safe for the time being, but one of you has twenty-four hours to fulfill the bargain.

“Any idea when we’ll find out who’s in tr…” I started, but, at that very same moment, Sparkle’s cell phone started ringing. He paused before he answered it in order to collect himself. I could tell that he was shaken by the whole experience. I, for one, was not looking forward to hearing who was on the other end of the line, either.

Sparkle didn’t say more than a couple of words, but he nodded a lot and murmured a few
uh huhs
before he clasped the phone shut. I could tell immediately that the news was bad. Plus, the first thing he said when he got off the phone was that the news was bad.

“Who is it?” I fairly screeched. “Is it your mother? Your father?  Your brother? Who, who is it?” I was suddenly semi-frantic.

“It’s Peter,” he replied, his face suddenly pale, which was saying quite a lot, considering how much he paid to stay perennially dark. “That was the head of the shelter, Dan, calling to tell me that they caught Peter smoking pot. He barricaded himself inside one of the rooms, because he doesn’t want to get shipped to the camp,” he told us, nodding his head in disbelief the whole time, my stomach sinking with each miserable word.

“Fuck,” I groaned. “Are they gonna do that?”

“The head honcho seems to think so. He said that I should come down and try to talk him out of the room before they have to call the police.”

“Let’s go,” commanded Sharon, and the five of us fairly raced out of the restaurant and over to the limo. Sven gave the old girl all it was worth and we made it to the shelter in about ten minutes flat. Sparkle and I were dropped off, while the rest of our group got driven home. There was nothing they could do but wish us both luck, anyway. Of course, I was wishing the same thing right about then. I mean, Peter didn’t belong in a detention camp. That would’ve been two giant steps backward.

We both raced up the stairs to the shelter and were greeted by Dan. He shook our hands, recapped what had happened, and led us to the door of the room where Peter was holed up. Sparkle took charge as soon as we got there.

“Peter,” he spoke loudly but with control, “this is Sparkle. (Times like that I wished we called him by his given name.) You have to come out of there and talk to us.”

There was a silent pause, and then from behind the door came, “No! I’m not coming out of here and I’m not going to that juvi prison, so fuck off.”

I looked at Dan with pleading eyes. He whispered to us that rules were rules and that Peter had broken the biggest one of all: absolutely no drugs in the shelter. Still, I tried reasoning with him. “But Peter’s been coming along so great over the last month. His grades are good, his behavior has improved remarkably, and, as far as we know, this is the only time he’s fallen back to his old ways. Can’t you make one exception?” I was nearly in tears, and Sparkle looked twice as bad as I felt.

“Look,” Dan began, “I know all those things. And it kills me to do this, but you have to understand my position here. For every Peter out there, there are a dozen other kids who want and need to be in this shelter. Funds are limited, space is limited, and there just aren’t enough places like this for all the needy teens throughout the city. Many kids that come through here are just like Peter, and many make headway only to fall back to their old ways. But many also come here and manage to succeed and then leave here and lead normal, productive lives. Those are the kids we need to have room for here. Peter understood the rules and he knowingly broke them. I’m sorry, but we can only afford to keep the ones here that at least try to make a go of it. I agree that sending him up north isn’t the best solution, but it’s what has to happen.”

Sparkle’s answer to that was, “Okay, I understand where you’re coming from, but let’s at least sit down and talk with Peter and try to found out why he did what he did. It just doesn’t sound like him. I mean, before you make any final decisions, can’t we at least give him the benefit of the doubt and hear his side of things?” I’d never heard Sparkle speak so from the heart before. In fact, mine was breaking as he pleaded with Dan.

“I’m not going to promise anything, and I seriously doubt that whatever he has to say will change what simply must happen, but I agree that we should at least hear him out,” Dan said, and I could hear in his voice that he really didn’t want to send Peter away either. His hands were probably well tied by the Department of Social Services when it came to matters like this.

“Peter,” Sparkle faced the door and tried again, “you have to come out right now. You’re only making it worse the longer you stay in there. Please come out and talk to us, and maybe we can work this all out.”

A minute past and there was silence from behind the door. Then we heard movement from inside the room and we knew that Peter was unblocking the exit in order to make his way out. Suddenly, we heard the lock click open before Peter poked his head out and looked at us. His face was red and tears were streaming down his cheeks as he walked outside and stood in front of us. Honestly, I didn’t know whether or not to punch him or hug him. After all, he’d done a really stupid thing, and, deep down, I felt betrayed. I mean, Sparkle and I had invested a lot of ourselves toward Peter’s welfare, and this was not a good way to repay us.

“Why don’t we all go into my office and talk?” Dan suggested, and we followed behind him to do just that. Sparkle tried to put his arm around Peter, but he was pushed away. I could see the hurt in my friend’s eyes when that happened. I mean, both of them had come so far in such a short amount of time; it was such a shame that this had to happen after all that.

“Now, Peter,” Dan began as we all took seats in his office, “perhaps you can explain why we caught you doing drugs in the shelter when you know we have strict rules against such behavior.”

Nothing. Not a peep out of him. Peter just sat there with his arms folded in front of his chest and didn’t say a word.

“Peter,” Sparkle tried, “if you want us to help you, you’re going to have to tell us why you did that. I thought you were beyond such things. At least, I hoped so.”

“Fuck that,” Peter mumbled. “Like you care.”

That, of course, stung both Sparkle and me. “Peter, if we didn’t care we wouldn’t be here right now, would we?” Sparkle countered with.

“Please, Mary (we taught him that), we both know you’re running down the clock on the time you have left with me.” He wouldn’t so much as look at us as he said it.

“What the… now listen hear…” I was pissed at the thought of that and I tried to explain that what he was saying was utter nonsense, but Sparkle raised his hand for me to stop.

“Wait, Peter, can you step outside for just a minute and let Secret and I have a word with Dan?” That caused Peter to look up at us, finally, and he looked mighty pissed. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever treated my parents that way and I certainly hoped that I hadn’t. Really, Peter had no reason to be mad at us considering he brought this misery upon himself.

Peter begrudgingly left us after we made him promise to wait outside for just a few minutes. We were a bit concerned that he would run away if we left him on his own, but I think, deep down, he knew we were on his side and that we might be his last chance. Actually, it really did seem like Sparkle was his only hope, because I hadn’t a clue how to get him out of this.

“Well, I think I know what’s happening here,” Sparkle said. “He knows that I have only a few hours left of my community service and he thinks I’m going to leave him. Damn, I can’t believe I didn’t see that coming.”

“It still doesn’t excuse what he did,” Dan argued, “but I can see what motivated the bad decision. He was afraid to lose another family. But, guys, listen, there’s nothing I can do about this. The State made these rules, and I have to enforce them.”

I looked over at Sparkle. His head was down and he looked like he was thinking hard about something. Dan and I sat there and watched him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Then, slowly, he lifted his chin and looked toward me before he reached over and grabbed my hand and gave me a slight grin. What he was thinking, I had no idea, but I anxiously waited to hear what he had brewing in that twisted, gin-soaked brain of his.