Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love (7 page)

So we got dressed, rolled up the towels, and started to head on out. The beach, by that time, was chock full of dudes, too. What struck me as funny, though, was that the majority of the people that were naked were the ones who really shouldn’t have been: lots of rolling guts and flabby hind parts. Oh, there were some cuties, to be sure, but they were spread out and mostly sitting amongst themselves. Truth be told, I was looking a lot better than most of the men there. I mean, what had I been so nervous about? This was a piece of cake. And then…

“Bruce! Hey Bruce!” I jumped. Who the hell could’ve known me down there? I looked all around and back and forth. “Bruce, over here!” I heard whoever it was, but I couldn’t see him. And then, lo and behold, I saw who was yelling my name and I froze dead in my tracks. Sparkle stopped as well and gave a, “Well, look who we have here.” Yes, it was Chuck and that same guy who was dragged out of Sparkle’s apartment the night before. There was also another guy with them. No doubt it was the alleged boyfriend that caused the whole friggin’ mess in the first place.

“Sparkle, I beg of you, no scenes please. I’ve had enough upheaval for one day, thank you very much,” I pleaded in a whisper, but Sparkle had the slightest smirk on his face as he put his fingers to his lips and made a tick-a-lock motion, indicating that he wouldn’t make a sound. I, of course, had my doubts, but I headed over to where Chuck was lying out, with Sparkle following silently behind me. (No doubt plotting his next evil move.)

Chuck, who I now saw was naked, was waving at me until he saw who I was with. That stopped him cold, and I could’ve sworn I saw the briefest look of terror on his face as he nudged the guy next to him and whispered something in his ear. That, naturally, caused the guy next to him to bolt up onto his elbows as well. (Kind of a reverse domino effect. And, honestly, it was terrifying to behold.) Now the three of them were blankly staring at us as we approached. All the while, Sparkle was snickering behind me as I made a
please shut up and behave
motion with my hand behind my butt, but Lord only knows what Sparkle interpreted that to mean. Certainly not
please shut up and behave
.

“Chuck, man, it’s great to see you again.” Of course, what I meant was that it was nice to see him buck-naked and spread out before me like a midday snack. And, ooh, he looked yummy indeed. He was, much to my delight, tighter looking out of his clothes and much hairier than I had imagined. And, yes, he was a
natural
blond, though I certainly tried my darndest not to look. (My darndest, by the by, was rather on the weak side that morning, what with the lack of food and all.)

“Bruce, yes, um, yeah, you too.” Poor guy. He really had to struggle not to say something that could set the powder keg off again. And I don’t know if it was the coke or what, but I swear I could hear the gears turning in Sparkle’s head, just grinding away trying to find exactly the right thing to say. (He didn’t disappoint. Shock.)

“Chuck, so nice to see you again. You left in such a hurry last night and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye,” Sparkle said, oozing grace. (Well, something was oozing, anyway.) “And, Jeff, no hard feelings, right, old chap?” I wish I could draw you a picture of the hatred on Jeff’s face at that very moment, because words cannot do it justice.

Sensing impending fireworks, I grabbed Sparkle’s hand and started to yank him away. “Well, we were just leaving. Going to grab a little bite somewhere,” I said and pulled hard on Sparkle’s hand. This, naturally, caused him to stand even firmer. Surprise, surprise.

“Ah, yes, a little bite. If I recall, that’s what young James over their likes. Isn’t that right James?” Sparkle had (and still has, except for this coma thing) such a knack for saying just the right thing at the completely wrong time and place. (God bless him. Or, make that, God help us.)

“Why you miserable piece of shit,” Jeff spat. “You have some fucking nerve.”

“My, my, Jeff, such language. I was just saying…”

“He was just saying goodbye,” I interjected and gave another hard yank. Jeez, he was strong as an ox and held his ground, despite my pulling and tugging.

That caused Jeff to jump up and start toward Sparkle. This in turn got Chuck and James up lickety-split. And I, the Switzerland of the beach, jumped in the middle, trying very hard to be the neutral party of the group. (Plus, it got me closer to naked, little Chuckie. See, I might’ve been fucked up, but my priorities certainly weren’t.)

“My goodness, don’t they have leash laws on this beach?” Sparkle was in grand form, and, despite myself, I gave a little
tee-hee
. Unfortunately, neither Sparkle’s remark nor my guffaw were doing us very much good, and the sight of three naked men struggling in the sand (and one semi-dressed Sparkle) was causing quite a commotion. Several other guys started to approach our little group to see what was happening. (God, I needed a drink, but I was beginning to believe that
He
was no longer listening to my pleas.)

“Bruce, I think you should get your friend out of here ASAP,” Chuck leaned in and whispered in my ear. (I know it was tragically inappropriate, but all of this was making me horny as hell.) Still, I agreed wholeheartedly with Chuck that it would be for the best if we could separate this little ménage a mess. So, instead of pulling on Sparkle, I gave him one mighty push. Luckily, I caught him off guard and he went tumbling a good couple of feet away. This was all the distance I needed, and I rushed over, grabbed his arm, and dragged him away.

“Sparkle, fun’s fun, but let’s get away from this, okay? I mean, please, game, set, and match, good buddy.”

“Oh, Secret, such the spoiled sport you are. I was just having a little verbal sparring fun with a few old and dear friends.”

“That’s what you call fun? And how old and dear, pray tell?” I sensed that a little dish might get Sparkle’s mind (and body) away from the festivities. (And yes, you guessed it: I wanted the four-one-one on Chuck. I wasn’t exactly having any luck finding out for myself, was I?)

“Now, Bruce, you know I’m not one to gossip.” Of course, I didn’t know. If you recall, I only knew Sparkle for, like, less than a day by that point. (And just look at all the fun I was having.)

“Spill it, Sparkle. And, by the way, you just called me Bruce.” Score one for me.

“Bruce. Secret. Whatever. Do you want the scoop or do you want to quibble?” Of course, I wanted the info on my little, blond stud, but I was learning that flustering Sparkle would probably be a rare occurrence, and I had to take it when I could get it.

“Well, I need to keep my mind off the hunger pains in my stomach, my apparent lack of employment, and this fucking hill of death we’re climbing up, so spill it.” 

“Ooh, okay, take a pill already,” he said and literally handed me a pill.

“How did you do that?” I was with Harriett Houdini all of a sudden. It just came out of nowhere.
Poof
.

“Honey, Gay Rule #3,” he said, clearly in sync with Kiki’s gay rule book, as we trudged up higher and higher with no end in sight.

“Which is?” I asked, huffing and puffing, sweat stinging my eyes.

“Always come prepared,” he replied.

“Isn’t that the Boy Scout’s rule or something?”

“Where do you think they got it from?” Sounded good to me. Anyway, I swallowed the pill. I mean, what the hell, there was no booze in sight and my nerves were shot to hell by that point.

“Okay, so now tell me about those three back there.”

“Oh, yes, right, the three little piglets: Chuckles, James, and our high-strung friend, Jeff
where’s-my-bottle-of-poppers?
Jessups. I take it from your more than obvious flirtations that really you just want the dirt on Chuckles, though. Hmm, where to begin?”

Luckily, we reached the summit before he started, because I didn’t want to miss a thing. “Just the highlights please,” I asked, knowing that given an inch, he would take a mile. And speaking of inches…

“Well, let’s just say, little Chuckles
isn’t
so little,” Sparkle said as he got into the now-burning-up car.

“How not so little?” I asked, also getting into the car. Though, thanks to whatever it was I had taken, I barely noticed the searing heat.

“Um, hmm,” Sparkle muttered, rummaging around the car. “See this can of Diet Coke?”

I gulped. Certainly it couldn’t be that big. “Not that big?” I asked, just a bit frightened.

“Oh, hell no. I just wanted a Diet Coke. Damn, I’m thirsty.”

I smacked him hard on his arm. “Fucker, play fair,” I yelled and slapped him again.

“Ow, Girlfriend, trim the nails, please,” he said, rubbing his arm. “Okay, now, where were we? Oh, yes, we were talking prick size. Um, you know I’m not one to tell such things.”

“Tell.” I threatened him with another slap.

“Jeez, take it easy. Remember what mine looked like? (Like I could forget that.) Well, add an inch up and half an inch around and I’d say you were about there. You’ll find, Secret, that it’s the little ones that pack the biggest pouches. And thank the Lord for that.”

“And you know this
how
?” I didn’t think I really wanted the answer, but I made it that far, so I pressed on. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the Brits say.

“Two years ago I was at a party,” he started to explain. “Several beers and a couple of hours into it, Chuckles walks up to me, grabs me by the hips, stands on his tippy-toes, looks up at me and says, “I live next door.” Now, as you might have guessed about me, I’m not one to miss an opportunity, and, within two minutes, I was next door. I think you can fill the rest in yourself, Secret, but, suffice it to say, it was a memorable evening. We’ve been passing acquaintances ever since. He’s been at every party I’ve thrown in the last two years. So has his friend, Jeff, for that matter.”

“Well, I doubt Jeff will be at your next one,” I couldn’t help but add.

“No, doubtful, but let me tell you something, Secret, that Jeff is no Miss Snow White herself. She was cruising everything that had a pulse last night, and I’ve caught her more than once on the dance floor locked in a vise-grip with someone other than James. Who, by the way, is Dud City in the sack, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“No, of course not,” I replied, feeling no pain by that point. Whatever he had given me was making me mellower than a James Taylor album. 

“By the way, just where are we going? This isn’t the way we came up,” I made note.

“It’s a surprise. So just sit back and relax and we’ll be there in a few.” (Yippy, more surprises. Well, what was one more?) As commanded, I sat back and enjoyed the view. It always seems so funny to me that you can leave the hustle and bustle of San Francisco, and fifteen minutes outside the city is nothing but rolling green hills (or brown, depending on the season) and stretches of land with either small herds of cattle or acres of vineyard on them.

As promised, in about five minutes, we pulled up to an adorable wooden house in the middle of nowhere, and Sparkle, with his arms thrown up, proclaimed, “We’re there.”

“And where is there?” I asked, with about as much curiosity as my current state of mind would allow.

“Casa d’Astan!” He pointed grandly to the home before us.

“Huh?” I wasn’t formulating sentences too well either by that point.

“Well, this is my parent’s summer cottage, but they aren’t due up for another week or so. See, they always come up the same time every year. Anyway, there’s bound to be some cans of something in the house that we can make due with to tide us over until we can get back into the city.”

So we got out of the car and walked up the little stone path to the house. There were lemon and avocado trees all around the periphery and patches of wildflowers here and there. In truth, you couldn’t have asked for a more serene setting. It was hard to imagine Sparkle, and the apparent hullabaloo that was his life, in such surroundings. But he was telling the truth, because he produced a set of keys and we were in the house in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. 

The inside of the cottage was just as rustic as the outside, very Martha Stewart meets Betsy Ross all over. There was lots of dark, antique wood furnishings and beautiful, old quilts and tapestries strewn about. The walls were painted in muted pastels and the paintings were all of scenes from times long past. Homey, quaint, and cozy. Everything Sparkle was not. Picture Sadam wintering in Martha’s Vineyard, and you wouldn’t be far off the mark.

“Strange,” I chirped, “this strikes me as very
un
-Sparkle like. You must be nothing like your parents.”

“Fuck, no,” he was quick to respond. “My parents and I are nothing alike, but it’s no wonder, really. I mean, as a child, I was raised by nannies and butlers and maids and cooks, while they were always off to Europe or up here. I was never allowed to join them. No big loss there, seeing as they’re massive bores. In any case, I had much more fun and learned way more from the people they left in charge of me and my brother than I ever could have had with them. Honestly, we barely ever see each other now, thank goodness. I mean, they don’t exactly approve of my lifestyle. But you know what I say, Secret? Fuck ‘em. I was able to take control of my trust fund when I turned twenty-one and have had very little need or desire to associate with them ever since.” Now I was beginning to see how Sparkle got to be Sparkle. I could also sense that he wasn’t exactly as happy about his family situation as he was letting on to be. Not if that frown on his face meant anything.

I got a quick tour of the house as we hurried to the kitchen, where we found a note that Sparkle snatched up and started to read out loud. “Mother and Father, I have stocked the refrigerator and cupboards with the provisions you have asked for. I am looking forward to our little visit and will see you on Wednesday evening. Yours lovingly, Lance.” He paused and then looked back over at me. “Well, well, well,” he said, appearing a bit crestfallen, “it would seem that Mummy and Daddy are arriving sooner than usual, and my dear brother, Lance, will be joining them. How lovely for them.” Sparkle again paused for a moment to collect himself. I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through his head, because, except for the fact that my family had no clue that I was gay, we were a fairly tight-knit group. If it was me, and my family was in town and had no intention of calling and letting me know that they were there, I would be devastated. Still, I had a strong suspicion that Sparkle did not devastate so easily. He was like a storm shelter that way, buried deep into the earth, with lots of provisions, mostly of the prescription kind.