Chapter Ten
Doug gaped at Corey. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but what the holy hell are you wearing?”
Corey grinned. “My glam rock gear. Gonna hit karaoke at The Horse and Carriage and get down with my bad self. You’re coming, right?”
Doug rubbed his eyes, still drowsy from the meditation. “Well, I wasn’t planning on it, to be honest. I was just gonna hang in tonight.”
“Oh, okay Grampa,” Corey said. “I’m having people back to the house after, so we’ll probably end up keeping you awake anyway. You might as well come.”
Doug’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, man. I’m in my sweatpants. I just want to plop down on the couch and watch the Long Island Medium.”
Corey pushed through the door and closed it behind him. “You won’t let me purge your bad energy, but you watch that shit? Come on. Let’s find you something to wear.”
Doug stared after Corey, who strolled down toward his bedroom like he owned the place. “You know you don’t live here, right?” he called out as he followed.
When he stepped into his bedroom, Corey was sitting on the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow cocked. “Really? Then why the hell is my sound machine here?”
“Oh. Ah, Stewart gave it to me.”
Corey pulled a sour face. “Stewart gave you my sound machine? Why?”
Doug chuckled. “I could hear things through the radiator.”
Corey’s eyes widened. He looked over at the radiator, then back at Doug. “You could hear...things? From our bedroom?”
Doug nodded. “Before I got the sound machine.”
Corey stood up and moved past Doug. “That’s disgusting. Pervert. Now where’s your closet?” Corey opened the closet and started rifling through Doug’s shirts, shoving the hangers aside one by one.
Doug sat down on the bed. “You’re not gonna find any glam rock clothes in there, I assure you.”
Corey looked over his shoulder, black-lined eyes narrowed. “Everyone doesn’t have to dress like this, but you could at least wear something besides denim and flannel.”
“I like denim and flannel.”
Corey whirled around. “That’s it! We can cut the arms off one of your flannels and you can be grunge. Can you sing like Eddie Vedder?”
“No, Corey. I can’t sing like Eddie Vedder. Where’s Stewart? Why don’t you go play dress-up with him?”
“He had to go fix a sink,” he said, turning his attention back to the closet. “He’s gonna meet us down there later. Besides, he won’t dress up. I’ve tried.” He pulled out a black button down shirt and held it up. “This isn’t bad.”
“I wore that to my grandfather’s funeral.”
Corey sneered at the shirt. “Eww.” He put it back. “Well, you must have something.”
Doug stood, sighing. “What if I just wear a black tee shirt and jeans?”
Corey whirled around, grinning. “That works. You can be like my roadie.” He paused. “Then you’ll come?”
Doug laughed. “Yes. I’ll come. Though I’m not sure why you want me to.”
Corey shrugged. “I want us to be friends.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I figure maybe if we’re friends, your energy will change and you’ll stop sending bad vibes upstairs when you meditate.”
Doug rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Now get out so I can change.”
Corey pouted. “No fair. Stewart got to see you naked.”
“Don’t start, okay?”
“Fine. I’ll wait in the living room. But make it quick.”
Doug changed his clothes then pulled on his boots, a bit troubled that he wasn’t more troubled about going out with Corey. He didn’t want to like Corey. If they became friends it would complicate things further. It was easier to not feel guilty about sleeping with Stewart when he thought Corey was a dick.
Dressed and ready, Doug strolled out of the bedroom. Corey was sitting on the kitchen counter, eating Doug’s raspberry sorbet out of the carton.
“Okay,” Doug said.
Corey looked him over. “You ready?”
“If you’re done with your dessert, yeah.”
“One more bite.” He dug his spoon in.
Doug grabbed his keys and wallet off the counter, and Corey put the sorbet back in the freezer. Though Doug knew he’d be throwing it in the trash tomorrow. Who knew where Corey’s mouth had been.
****
The Horse and Carriage was a vast room with a lot of cocktail tables and two bars. Doug was surprised by how big it was; he’d been expecting a divey little hole in the wall pub. Apparently these people took their karaoke night seriously, because the place was jammed. Spotlighted at the far end of the room, an enormous, muscular black man with a shaved head stood on stage, singing “Bridge Over Troubled Water” in a falsetto voice that didn’t match his size.
“That’s Tai,” Corey said, nodding toward the singer. “He’s the host. Oh, I see Bobby!”
And then Corey took off through the crowd, leaving Doug in the dust. Doug watched his blond hair and neon shirt glimmering among the other bodies. Corey reached his destination and greeted a gang of people, all who seemed very glad to see him, cheering his arrival and slapping his back.
Doug took his time getting to the bar, then ordered a rum and coke rather than his usual beer. He had a feeling he was going to need a lot of liquor to get through this night.
“Hey, Doug right?”
Doug turned and saw the couple he’d met at Bernie’s with Stewart, the dreadlocked girl and the tall lanky guy. “Oh hey guys,” he said. He was never so happy to see people he barely knew. At least he’d have someone to talk to, as Corey had clearly lost interest in his mission to make Doug his friend. He recalled Stewart’s words.
“Corey dabbles in everything for a little while until he gets tired of it.”
Doug had forgotten the names of the couple he was talking to, but picked up that they were Liz and Jim while they interacted with others in their group. They introduced Doug to several people, one of which was Dewey, Stewart’s chunky red-haired buddy he’d seen at Bernie’s.
Though he nearly didn’t recognize Dewey, because he was in drag. Or something in the drag family. Dewey wore a long, platinum blond wig and a black mini-dress, with what looked like balloons stuffed under his shirt, giving him large breasts.
When Liz introduced Doug to Dewey as ‘Corey and Stewart’s friend’, Dewey looked him over, batting false eyelashes. “How can you be friends with Corey and Stewart if I don’t know you?” he said. “Have they been keeping you locked up somewhere?”
Doug smiled. “They’re my neighbors,” he said. “I live downstairs from them.”
“Oh,” Dewey said. “You’re that guy. Corey told me about you.”
Dewey turned his attention to someone else, no longer interested in Doug. Doug tried not to imagine what Corey might have said about him.
Half-hearted applause came from the stage area as the big bald guy introduced another. Soon a young woman was singing “Crazy” but she was no Patsy Cline, especially with the hospital gown and propeller hat she wore.
Corey drifted over toward Doug and was greeted enthusiastically by more people in the crowd, like an actual rock star. Dewey made a fuss of his outfit and hair, but Corey’s eyes kept shifting to Doug where he sat at the bar.
Corey detached himself from the others and approached, taking the barstool next to Doug. “You’re not having fun, are you?”
“I’m having fun,” Doug said. “We just got here.”
“You look broody,” Corey said. “It’s no wonder you can’t have any fun, Doug, with that blockage inside you.”
Doug smiled at him. “You’re just dying to get your hands on my energy, aren’t you?”
“Like you would not believe,” Corey said. “It’s driving me mad, Doug. You don’t want me to go mad, do you?”
“I think that ship has sailed.”
Corey’s black lined eyes narrowed. “You really do think I’m full of shit, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Doug said. “I’m sorry, but I do.”
“Have you ever met an empath? That’s what I am. I can feel other people’s emotions. I can feel yours. You’ve got pain.”
“Everyone’s got pain.”
“Right,” Corey said. “But not everyone has a neighbor upstairs with the ability to remove that pain.”
“I’m sorry, Corey. But I’m not letting you give me a massage or perform an exorcism or whatever you want to do to me.”
Corey sagged in his stool. “You’re so stubborn. Can I tell you what I feel from you?”
Doug chuckled and shook his head. He took a hearty sip of his rum and coke. “Okay, Corey. Tell me what you feel.”
Corey brightened a bit, and leaned close, resting one finger on Doug’s hand. “Someone you loved hurt you.”
“Wow,” Doug said. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe I doubted your gift. Please, sign me up.”
“That sarcasm is getting tiresome,” Corey said.
“Sorry, but come on. You could have guessed that, or Stewart probably told you.”
Corey stiffened slightly. “You discussed your personal pain with Stewart?”
Ah, crap. Here we go.
“Just a few things,” Doug said. “That’s what people do when they meet. They talk.”
“Fine, fine.” Corey waved his hands in front of his face. “You were trying to get in his pants, playing the sympathy card, I get it. But back to your energy. Answer me this. What’s the normal process when you lose someone? In a break up, say.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Doug said. “I haven’t had a lot of normal in my life as of late.”
Corey pointed at him. “Exactly. The normal process is you break up, you mourn, you move on, right? But I think someone did something so bad to you, that your love instantly turned to hate. Therefore, you never got to mourn. That’s why you’re stuck in this angry state. It’s like you skipped a step, and that created this festering knot inside you, like a road block. You’re festering, Doug.”
Doug chuckled. “Okay, Dr. Freud. What of it?”
“What of it? I can take it out of you, that’s what of it! We’ve already established it’s there. We know why it’s there. All I have to do is...” He made a yanking motion with his fist. “Pull it out.”
“You’re very handsome, Corey. But I don’t want you pulling on anything of mine,” Doug said. “Inside or out.”
Corey slid off the stool. “Fine, be that way. Fester. You’re not gonna ruin my fun.” And then Corey took off through the crowd again, and was gone.
Doug rolled his eyes, then went to find the bathroom. He peed and washed his hands, then glanced in the mirror at himself as he dried off with a paper towel. Leaning in, he studied his eyes, turning his head left to right. He shrugged, then turned away, tossing the paper towel in the trash. “There’s nothing festering,” he muttered grumpily as he left the bathroom.
When he got back out to the bar, Corey was on stage, singing “Talk Dirty to Me” by Poison. Doug grinned, moving closer. Dewey was onstage too in his blond wig and mini-dress, serving as go-go girl to Corey, shaking his hips and making swimming motions with his arms.
The crowd laughed and cheered, and Doug found he was laughing too. Corey had great stage presence, and a pretty decent voice. Doug recalled Stewart’s recounting of Corey that fateful night the two had met. Suddenly Doug could see it, Corey on stage doing Shakespeare, all made up and costumed, that alluring presence radiating from him.
He watched as Corey turned his back on the crowd and shook his leather-clad ass during the guitar solo, while Dewey made monkey arms in his direction. Then Doug’s eyes slid to the right of the stage, and he saw Stewart, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching Corey.
Doug’s smile faltered. Stewart wasn’t just watching Corey. He was beaming at Corey, something like adoration in his eyes. It was that shy, sexy smile Stewart got when Doug said something flirty to him, or when they were about to kiss. But Stewart’s focus was not on Doug this time. It was on his boyfriend.
Corey and Dewey left the stage to raucous applause.
As another singer went up and began a Frank Sinatra song, Doug watched Corey move away from the stage, heading toward Stewart. But before reaching him, someone stepped in front of Corey, blocking his way. Doug recognized him. It was the gorgeous, fresh-faced, kid that had approached their table at Bernie’s the night he’d walked down there with Stewart. Zach, Doug recalled his name now, the one Stewart called ‘one of Corey’s fan club’.
The kid leaned into Corey, his face close, gesturing emphatically with his hands, clearly distraught about something. He wore a tight white tee shirt, lean muscles outlined against the cotton.
But fetching as Zach was, Corey did not look happy to see him, taking a step back, raising his hands as if to ward him off. Doug watched the two of them argue until motion in his peripheral vision dragged his gaze away, and he saw Stewart waving his arm over his head from across the crowd, trying to get Doug’s attention. Doug smiled, unable to help himself. Stewart looked sexy and freshly showered, his silky dark waves framing his gorgeous face.
He moved through the crowd and approached Stewart, who was back to leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Stewart’s reflective blue eyes trailed over Doug’s body, then back to his face with a heated gaze. “Hey.”
Doug felt that involuntary lurch of excitement rise up, tightening his throat. “Hey,” he said. “You just get here?”
“Yeah.” Stewart reached out and grabbed Doug’s wrist, pulling him closer. “I’m glad you came, Corey and I had a bet. I said he wouldn’t be able to convince you. Guess I was wrong.”
Doug laughed and sidled up next to Stewart, the two of them leaning against the wall. “He came into my apartment like gangbusters,” Doug said. “Started tearing through my closet.”
Stewart’s head fell back against the wall as he laughed. He turned his head and looked at Doug, their faces close. “You look so fucking good tonight,” he said, voice low.
Doug swallowed hard. “Thanks. You too.”
The spell was broken when Corey appeared suddenly and slumped against the wall next to Stewart, his expression tight. “I want to get the fuck out of here,” Corey said.
Stewart stepped away from the wall and faced Corey. “Already? What’s wrong?”
Corey shrugged. “Let’s just grab some people and go back to our place.”
“Okay,” Stewart said. He glanced at Doug. “You’ll come up to our place for a while, right?”
Doug nodded. “Sure.” He spotted Zach sitting nearby at the bar, sipping a drink, eyes on Corey. He didn’t look happy, brow lowered in a scowl over his pretty eyes.
Stewart turned and looked in that direction, as though sensing him, then glanced back at Corey. “You gonna invite Zach?”
Corey huffed. “No, I’m not gonna invite Zach. He’s being all drunk and clingy and weird.”
Stewart smirked at Corey. “Told you.”
Turning to Stewart, Corey’s lips curled in a sneer. “Yeah, you told me, Stewart. How many times you gonna say it?”
Stewart shrugged. “Told you.”
“What’s up with that guy?” Doug asked.
“Zach’s been hanging round for months waiting his turn,” Stewart said to Doug. “And I told Corey not to sleep with him, because he seems unstable.”
“He’s not unstable,” Corey snapped.
“Okay, obsessed then,” Stewart said. “But Corey decided not to heed my warning, and stayed over at young Zach’s place last night.”
Corey gaped at Stewart, shaking his head. “Why are you telling him that? You don’t have to tell Doug everything, you know.” Corey nodded his head toward Doug. “Besides, if anyone’s unstable it’s him. He’s festering.”
“Don’t start, Corey,” Doug said.
“Fuck off, Doug,” Corey responded.
“Corey!” Stewart said. “Go do a shot, or suck a dick, or whatever you need to do. But quit being a fucking bitch.”
Corey jerked his head back and looked at Stewart. “You go suck a dick.” He grinned, then snickered. “Go suck Doug’s dick, I’m sure he won’t mind.”
Stewart shook his head at Corey, but a grin curled his lips. “You’re an asshole.”
“You’re an asshole,” Corey said.
Their expressions didn’t match their words, and Doug grew uncomfortable as he watched Stewart and Corey smile at each other, their eyes locked. Aside from the pang of jealousy which reared up in obnoxious defiance, Doug was plagued with the truth that had niggled him all week—that he was nothing like these guys and would never understand them, never truly be on the inside. They’d just been arguing about a guy Corey slept with last night, and now they smiled at each other as though sharing some private, intimate joke.
“Well, I’m gonna go gather the troops,” Corey said. “You guys meet me outside in ten?”
“Okay,” Stewart said as Corey took off. He turned to Doug. “You rode here with him?”
“Yeah.”
Stewart nodded. “You can ride back with me if you want.”
Doug agreed, and it wasn’t all about wanting to spend time with Stewart. He suspected Corey might have forgotten he needed to give Doug a ride back. He wasn’t the most focused guy Doug had ever met.
When he and Stewart left the bar, Corey was talking with a group of friends outside. He spotted Doug and Stewart and perked up. “Okay,” Corey said to the group. “Let’s blow this clam shack.”
The group of them started toward the parking lot when Zach came trampling up behind them. “Corey!”
Corey stopped and turned back, sighing heavily when he saw Zach.
“You having people over?” Zach asked.
“No, Zach. Just going home.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Zach shouted. “That’s great, Corey, now I’m not even invited to your house?”
“Zach, cut the shit,” Corey said. “I’m not having a party, just heading home, I swear.”
When Corey turned and continued toward the parking lot, the rest of them followed. Doug trailed behind the group, feeling awkward as he glanced back at Zach. The kid made a sad picture, standing alone on the sidewalk, his face a mask of anguish.
Then Zach’s anguished expression darkened to rage, like someone had flipped a switch. “Hey, Stewart!” Zach called out. “Have fun with your boyfriend tonight. Hope you have great sex knowing my sheets are still wet with his cum.”
Stewart glanced back. “Grow up, Zach,” he shouted. “And go change your sheets, ya filthy cunt.”
It probably would have been all right...Zach probably would have let Stewart’s comment go. If Corey hadn’t laughed.
But Corey did laugh, that shrill cackle of his echoing into the night. Corey caught himself and covered his mouth, trying to muffle the laugh, but it was too late.
Doug saw the change come over Zach, and recognized the look in his eyes. He was certain his own eyes had looked similar, just before he shoved Harry’s boyfriend to the floor. Zach was about to do something he’d regret, Doug was certain of it.
“You want to come over here and say that to my face, Stewart?”
Zach started forward and Doug stepped in front of him. “Don’t,” he said. “It’s not worth it, Zach. Let it go.”
Zach shoved Doug. “Who the fuck are you? Get away from me! I’m gonna fucking kill him.” He started toward Stewart again, and Doug grabbed his arm.
“Take a breath!” Doug said. “You don’t want to do this.”
“You’re the cunt, Stewart!” Zach shouted. “And you’re a naïve idiot!”
“Fuck off!” Stewart shouted.
Zach bolted toward Stewart, but Doug held onto his arm. “Zach, don’t,” Doug said.
Jerking backward, Zach turned on Doug, his eyes wild. “Fuck you!”
Zach wasn’t a huge guy, but his rage made him strong, so when he shoved Doug, he flew backward and slammed into a parked car.
“Ugh—” Splinters of pain ripped through his back, sucking the breath from his lungs.
Then all hell broke loose. Stewart charged at Zach and got him into a headlock. Corey ran over, his mouth hanging open. He glanced at Doug, who had caught his breath but held his side, wincing. “You all right?” Corey asked.
Doug nodded. He was, more or less.
Corey looked down at Zach, who fought to wriggle his way out from under Stewart’s arm. “Zachary, what are you doing?” Corey shouted. “You need to calm down! You’re being ridiculous.”
Hearing Corey’s voice, Zach let out a growl and managed to break free of Stewart’s grip. He swung his arm and his fist connected with Corey’s face. Doug winced at the sound it made, a meaty thump.
Corey reeled back, hands going to his eyes.
Then Doug saw a streak of platinum blond. Dewey—still dressed in his black mini-dress—tackled Zach to the ground.
“Oh, Christ,” Doug said.
A crowd formed around them as Dewey pinned Zach’s arms down with his knees, skirt hiked up to his hips, exposing garter belts atop his black stockings. “Calm your shit, Zachary!” Dewey screamed in the kid’s face. “You’re gonna calm your shit right now!”
Zach whimpered, and Doug lowered his eyes to the ground. If Zach was going to cry, he didn’t want to see it, feeling sympathy for the kid’s humiliation, despite getting thrown into the car.
“Corey, you okay?”
Doug looked up when he heard Stewart’s voice. Stewart went to Corey and tried to check his face, but Corey pushed him off. “I’m fine,” Corey said. “Don’t touch me.”
Stewart left Corey and walked over to Doug. “You okay?” he asked, his cheeks flushed, dark hair mussed up on one side.
“I’m okay,” Doug said, straightening up. His back throbbed a bit, but it didn’t feel like any significant damage had been done. He glanced over and saw that Dewey and Zach had disengaged, Dewey smoothing down his dress as a young woman led a sniffling Zach away, off down the sidewalk. The drama was over.
“You sure?” Stewart asked, blue eyes wide with concern.
Doug nodded. “I’m fine, really.”
Stewart’s jaw stiffened and his fists clenched. “I am too fucking old for this shit,” he said. He turned in circle, then leaned over, resting his elbows on the parked car. “Too old for this bullshit.”
“Stewart!” Corey shouted. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah,” Stewart called back without looking. “I’ll meet you there.”
Corey and his posse left, climbing into cars. Stewart straightened up and looked at Doug. “I think we’ve had enough fun here. Let’s go.”