In the morning my voice is worse. When Susan asks how our show went as I’m fixing breakfast, all I can do was croak.
“I’ll take it that it went too well,” she observes. “Let me look at that throat.”
It’s her first official mothering. She gets me to croak “Ah” and says it’s red. There were no ulcers or bleeding
”Ulcers?” I manage to say.
“Yes, Tim. Singers sometimes damage their voices so badly they need to be hospitalized. You’re fine, but you shouldn’t try to sing for a while.”
But I have a show that night. I run up and tell Jace.
“Good,” he says. “I’ll sing. Robby, Hippie and Iggy can do their parts. You can still play guitar.”
I feel a big letdown but agree there’s no other choice. Jace says there was one song I can still do – ‘Jeremiah was a Bullfrog.’
“Very funny,” I croak.
Hippie calls after we ate, in a big panic.
“Where’s my Mom’s car? I can’t find it.”
“Do you remember anything from last night?”
“Those girls pulled down my pants.”
“Anything after that?”
“We smoked a joint? But I really don’t remember much.”
“How about chugging three glasses of beer?”
“Jeez, I can’t tell Mom that? Her girlfriend will beat me.”
“You mom has a girlfriend?”
“Yeah, I guess I never told anyone.”
“And her girlfriend’s a big bull dyke who beats the crap out of you?”
“No, but she could.”
I call Jace over to the phone. “Tell Hippie we’ll bring Max over to protect him from his mom’s bull dyke girlfriend.”
Jace sputters and can’t talk. I get back on the phone.
“Come over here. Michael’s dad took your keys. We’ll ride bikes to his house to get your car.
“Oh-kay.” He spoke at half speed which for anyone else was quarter speed.
Michael is up and having breakfast with Jimmy Olsen when we get there. He tells us to come back so we could figure out what to do about my voice. I half expect Mr. Antonio to lecture Hippie, but all he said was, “You understand why you couldn’t drive?”
“Yes, sir,” as meek as a mouse.
As we ride to Sorrento’s, I ask him, “You really had quite a day for yourself yesterday?”
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes.
“Sure, you’re sorry, that you got up and sang the Doors songs; you’re sorry all the groupies grabbed you and raped you; you’re sorry all your friends got you drunk; you’re sorry Michael’s dad wouldn’t let you drive drunk and kill everyone; and you’re sorry you’ve got fifty bucks in your pocket from the party.”
He looks in his jeans and finds the fifty bucks. It’s the first real smile I’ve ever seen on his face. Naturally I start to tear up, until Jace punches me. We all laugh, ending up on the curb until we can’t laugh anymore.
“Do you think those girls like me?”
“They liked you when you were being Jim Morrison. I’m not so sure after you blew your spunk all over them. I think they had other plans for it. You do remember the Jim Morrison part?”
“Yeah, I won’t ever forget being a rock star.”
“How about the part where you have two mommies?” Jace asks.
“You told him?” he accuses me.
“It’s slightly important to us, being two gay guys.”
“Yeah, I see. Now you want to meet ‘em?”
“Why not? We’re gay parents, too, you know? To Wilkie’s girlfriend, Jill.”
“Hey, we forgot to tell her about our shows,” Jace remembers.
“Hippie, you take the car home by yourself. Wash it and tell your moms you wanted to make it look clean.”
“Will you come by and meet my moms?”
“Sure, but first we have some parenting on our own we have to do.”
We ride with him to Sorrento’s to make sure the station wagon is okay, and then left for the Grove. Jill answers the door and lets us in.
“I’m so sorry we didn’t come by for Christmas, Jill,” I apologizes.
“It’s okay. I saw you a couple of times at Out & Proud, last week.
“Yeah, we got paid to play and bring in people. It was a real scene.”
“You guys are real scenesters.”
“What do you hear from David?”
“He calls every day. I think he worries I’ll start going out with someone else.”
“Not with your gay parents on patrol.”
“But we want you to come to our show tonight in the Gables.”
“Okay, that sounds fun.”
“But no hitting on single guys.”
“Hey,” Jace has an idea. “Remember when David and you sang at the frat house.”
“Well, we barely sang.”
“Well, numb nuts over here blew out his voice and can’t sing. You want to fill in, or at least do a song. We’re all having to pick up after him.”
“Thanks for making me feel worse,” I complain.
“Well, there is this one Rod Stewart song I always sing.”
“That’ll be great. Which one? I hope it’s Maggie May.”
“Not while I’m hanging out with you guys. People will get the wrong idea. It’s ‘you’re my lover and my best friend.’”
“I know that,” Jace smiles and broke out singing,
“You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul
You’ll be my breath should I grow old.
You are my lover, you’re my best friend.”
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
That’s the one.”
“Perfect, just come up and sit with the Jacettes during the show. We’ll all sing it together. Tim can croak just like Rod Stewart.”
She really cracks up.
“Thanks guys, for coming by. I’ll tell David you’re on patrol.”
“We love you guys. We’re your gay parents. Straight guys beware.”
We finally get back to Michael’s. Hippie is being interviewed, which is going to be interesting. Robby and Michael are arguing about how Michael played when Robby was singing his song. I tell Robby it’s his song, but we wrote it. If he isn’t playing drums on it, then Michael is in charge of the drumming.
“You want to drum on it as well as sing.”
“Maybe in the future. How’d you like my performance.”
“You mean the part when everyone ran screaming out of the room?”
“Wasn’t that great?”
“Well, no. You fucking scared our new fans.”
“Fuck them if they can’t take a little curse.”
“Metal-heads are a sensitive lot when it comes to the occult.” Jace notes.
“Your singing was really good, but we still need to work on the tempo.”
“I told Michael it didn’t work.”
“More work on your singing and Jace’s leads.”
“Well, let’s do it.”
“Okay, when you sing ‘we are False Gods,’ you have to hold it out longer, give Jace a chance to get all the leads in.”
“Well, he should hurry up.”
“No, the point is to make people hear the words, let it be imprinted on their brains.”
“That’s why they were yelling it at the end of the song.”
“No, they are yelling it because it’s the name of our band.”
“Okay, I’ll try.”
We play it several times through. His mood remains pissy. He slowly comes around, especially after Jace turns up his amp and drowned him out.
Finally he pulls out a joint.
“We need to chill out.” And he held the word out for as long as he has breath.
“There you go.”
“See, I can do it. Right, Hippie?”
Hippie looks up for the first time and gives us his new smile.
Robby looks taken aback, “Not your usual scowl. Not a shit-eating grin. It must be a ‘spunk the groupies’ grin.”
Everyone laughs, including Hippie.
Robby looks at me. “You’ve been working on our Hippie, haven’t you?”
“Yeah. When Hippie finally smiles I had to punch Tim so he wouldn’t cry,” Jace exposes me.
“So what, you want the old sullen Hippie back?” I ask.
“No. No,” everyone cries.
“I’m sending all my groupies for smiley face Hippie spunk from now on,” Jace decides.
“You may not get them back,” Robby warns.
“Good,” I say.
“I’ll just steal away your gay posse, then.”
“Hey,” Michael pipes up, “Remember after next Tuesday night, there won’t be any parties to play and no groupies to abuse.”
“And Romeo and Juliette will sail off to the Bahamas with Jenna’s father swearing revenge.” Robby mocks.
“You guys better not mess it up,” Michael threatens.
“Worried about the best laid plans?” Robby taunts. “But I don’t think getting laid is part of the plan.”
“You’re right, pervert, and don’t you mess with it.”
“Okay, okay,” I croak. “We have some adjustments to make for tonight since I can’t sing.”
“We’ve got a female vocalist, who’s going to guest star,” Jace announces. “Remember Jill from the frat party?”
“She’s just going to do ‘You’re in My Heart’ by Rod Stewart.”
“If Jace is going to do most of the singing we better find out if he can sing,” Robby demands.
I know the answer to that one, and Jace proves it to everyone else. No one with his ear is going to sing off-key. We decide it will be another Motown show, so we can do some of the dance tunes we plan for Jenna’s party. Iggy is mad we aren’t going to do metal, but he doesn’t complain. He knows he can always whip up metal head frenzy and charge the stage to take over the mic. Just a part of our traveling rock n roll show.
Finally, after practice is over, Hippie comes up to Jace and me to say his moms want to meet us. It’s a busy day, with the show still coming up.
“Can we do it when we’re not so busy?” I ask.
“Well, she may take away the station wagon.”
“Oh, are they mad at us?”
“No. They just think gay guys are irresponsible.”
“I thought they’d like us.”
“They don’t like any guys.”
“They like you?”
“Maybe. They used to say I’m a lot like my dad.”
“My step-mother says that about me and my real mom,” Jace notes.
“Lately they’ve tried to encourage me, so that’s better isn’t it?”
“Yeah, Hippie,” I agree, “We’ll tell ‘em the band is good for you.”
“Can we go now?”
Off we ride on our bikes to dyker hell.
Hippie’s house was one of the small older Mission-style stuccoes that were on the back side of 8th Street, Calle Ocho, but still in the Gables. Hippie introduces us to his moms, Marge his birth mom and Meg, her large and ferocious girlfriend, i.e. bull dyke.
Marge starts the interrogation. “Gregory says you are both gay and going together.”
No messing around with this mom.
“Yes, ma’am. Jace has been living with me since Halloween. He knew I was gay, but he hadn’t been with anyone before and wasn’t sure.”
“Tim rescued me from my step-brother who has always bullied me. It didn’t take long to learn I could trust him. I fell in love with him before anything ever happened.”
“You ain’t trying anything on my Gregory, are ya?”
We almost laugh. “No. ma’am. He’s our friend, He came into our band when we needed a bass player. Jace and I really love each other. We’re not interested in any other boys.”
“Is there any other reason you want him in the band?”
“Other than he’s a good person? Well, the fact he drives is important, too.”
“So. It’s my car you need?”
“Well, at first, but now Michael’s dad drives us, too. We really want Hippie, I mean Greg, in the band. Did he tell you he sang lead vocals on a song last night?”
“I can’t imagine that. As long as he’s not being abused, he can stay in the band and keep driving my car. It was my father’s idea, typical man, that they have to be the driver.”
“I’m glad he can stay. We’re all friends in this band. It’s all for one, one for all.”
“More male chauvinism.”
I’m killing our efforts by being flippant. This woman doesn’t mince her words.
“We really wanted to meet you, once Greg told us you were together.”
“It doesn’t mean that we approve of your lifestyle, just because we’re gay.”
“It’s not approval but understanding we need. Not many 15/16 year olds being gay nowadays.”
“Oh, Marge. Stop being an old grump,” Meg interrupts. “These boys are the first friends Gregory’s ever brought home before. They’re going to think we don’t love Gregory.”
“Why would they ever think that.”
“By chasing away his friends. You practically accused them of molesting Gregory.”
“You know how men are. They’re probably being civil just to deceive us.”
“These boys are nothing like men. Can’t you see they’re not evil?”
“They got him liquored-up last night and who knows why.”
She had us there.
Hippie took a breath and stood up for us. “They were celebrating for me because I did something really good, Ma. They wouldn’t let me drive because they’re responsible. I just never had beer before. And look, Ma, I got paid fifty bucks, just like everyone else for our performance.” He shows her the money.
“You got paid to go to a party?”
I jumped in, “Yes, ma’am. We all got paid. There were several hundred people there and we really entertained them. It was older people, not kids. Our band is doing really well.”
“You can take my money, Ma. Just don’t make me quit.”
“See, Marge. He’s really growing up, making money and working with his friends.”
“Okay. Okay. You shouldn’t all gang up on me. But you boys are coming over here for dinner, once a week, from now on, so I can keep an eye on you.”
Hippie looks totally relieved. I can’t imagine living under such strict supervision. One mom – good. Two moms – too good.
He stuck with us after the interrogation, apologizing without really knowing what he was apologizing for.
“So much for having gay parents to talk with,” I complain.
“We’re talking with ‘em anyway, once a week for dinner.”
“Hippie, do you want us to start calling you Gregory?”
“No thanks. I kinda like just Hippie. Hippie Greg sounded too much like Billy Bob or some other weird country name.”
“We aren’t putting you down for being a hippie. It’s just natural for me now.”
“No sweat, Tim,” and he gives me his new smile. Luckily Jace is right on top of that with a solid punch to my arm before I tear up.
“Tough love,” he explains to Hippie.
When we get home, Hippie asks if he should leave for a while, if we need to have sex. After 24 hours it was on my mind. “We’re not that sex crazed, Hippie,’ I tell him.
“Maybe we can help you with any sex questions that you have,” Jace suggests. I remembered Scott’s and my sex ed debacle with Stu.
He has a long list. Ma wasn’t too up on male sexuality.
“How come I spunked like you call it when the girls pulled my pants down.”
“Well, it builds up if you don’t let it out,” Jace lectures. “Do you masturbate?”
“What’s that?” he asks. I guess most guys don’t just discuss these things with everyone.
“You use your hand to make the spunk come out.”
“You can do that?”
“Have you ever had a wet-dream?”
“I dream but I can’t remember if it was ever about swimming.”
“Not wet in your dream, but wet when you wake up.”
“Oh. I stopped that when I was a little kid.”
“Hang on, Jace,” I suggest. “Let’s forget about the mechanics and get to some basics.”
Turning to Hippie, “Do you know how babies are made?”
“Yeah, we all had sex ed. The male puts the sperm in the woman’s vagina, a baby grows for nine months and then comes out.”
“Good. Do you know that what we call spunk is actually sperm plus other liquid to make it flow.”
“Oh, so I was making a baby with the girls yesterday?”
“Well, that’s why they were upset. You have to get the sperm into the vagina to make a baby.”
“I don’t think I want to make a baby.”
“Don’t worry. Those groupies don’t want one either. We’ll explain that part later. Did it feel good when you spunked?”
“Yeah, it was feeling great but afterward I felt sad. Was that because I didn’t make a baby?”
“Sorta. But let me ask you the questions. How old are you?”
By your age, your dick and balls are developed enough for sex. Have you ever woken up with spunk in your pajamas?
“I only wear my briefs.”
“Okay. Have you ever messed your briefs?”
“Sometimes, but I thought it was just pus.”
“That’s a wet dream,” Jace jumps in, anxious to be Hippie’s teacher.
“So everything is normal and works fine. You just need to learn to control when it happens.”
“That’s masturbation,” Jace adds.
“You mean when I have that kinda dream, it’s masserbating?”
We can’t help but laugh. Hippie looked crestfallen.
“No, dummie,” Jace yells. “Masturbation is doing it with your hand.”
We hear giggles outside the window. We have an audience – Robby and Mary.
“Come inside, you guys,” I order.
Robby is grinning. Mary looks uneasy about the sex ed. lesson.
“I know everything. Here, I’ll show you how to masturbate,” Robby starts to undo his jeans.
“Stop it,” I swat Robby’s hand away. “We just got accused of molesting Hippie by his mom.”
“Oh, the truth comes out,” Robby gloats.
“He doesn’t have a dad to tell him these things. We don’t need for you to perv on him.”
“Be cool, Robby,” Mary says.
“I never get to have any fun.”
“Is sex fun?” Hippie asks.
“Yes,” we all answer. “That’s what you need to know. But don’t let anyone do it with you unless you want them to.”
“I wanted the girls to do it with me yesterday but I don’t really want to do it with Robby.”
“Good. He’s just kidding you, so you need to know that people do that too.”
“We’ll have these sex discussions when your ma’s there, so she can protect you and we don’t get accused of molesting you.”
“You’re going there for dinner?” Robby asks.
“Every week, so Hippie can use the car for the band.”
“And if there are things you don’t want to ask in front of your mom, you can still ask us or Mary, just not Robby.”
All of us answer, “He’s a perv.”
By the time we all are at Michael’s, it’s too late to set up, and then take a break at Sorrento’s. It’s obvious that I wasn’t the only one worse for wear. Robby is pissed that we’d stopped him from molesting Hippie. The Jacettes are just tired. All band members are hung over from the partying after playing two sets the previous night, plus practicing to make the adjustment to my not singing. We set up at the party house. We knew nobody there. The host, Grant, is dubious we can even play after finding out we were all 14 to 17 years old. He tells us we weren’t allowed to be served at the bar. Then, Jill shows up. Jace and I explains she was going to sing with us. The Jacettes welcome her into their clutches, while all the guys are in awe of a twenty-year-old hanging out with us. Several college guys try to hit on her but we kick them out, “Band only.” She comes over and gives Jace and me a kiss, admitting she’s a bit nervous.
“It’ll be fun,” we reassure her. “Remember when you and Wilkie sang ‘God Save the Queen?”
That makes her a little sad, missing David.
“You have a great voice, pure and true,” Jace knows what to say.
No sense waiting around to play. We get up, set to play, tuning and adjusting mics. The Jacettes do a little a Capella, “love, love, love.” People start filling up the room.
Hey,” I croak into the mic. “welcome to our nightmare. We’re a little party’d out from the holidays, so I won’t be singing much tonight.”
Jace plays the first few bars of ‘Joy to the World,” as I glared at him.
“We have a treat for you instead, as our friend, Jill,” I point at her with the Jacettes, “ is going to do a little Rod Stewart tribute later on.”
She smiles and waves, to several whistles and applause.
“Since they cut us off at the bar, can somebody get me a beer?”
Jace cuts in with the opening guitar to the Velvet Underground’s “I’m Beginning to See the Light,’ which I could handle.
Then we did ‘White Light, White Heat,’ which is a strain.
Jace goes to the mic, while I grab my guitar. He lights into ‘Walk on the Wild Side,’
except he changed ‘Little Joe’ to:
‘Little Tim never once gave it away
Everybody had to pay and pay
A hustle here and a hustle there
New York City is the place where they said:
Hey babe, take a walk on the wild side
I said hey Tim, take a walk on the wild side’
He goes back to the beginning, substituting ‘Holly’ with Edi and ‘Candy’ with Mary, and pointing at Robby for ‘Sugar Plum Fairy.’ I’m able to join in for the chorus of ‘doo doodoo doo doo deda doo.’
Songwriters: REED, LOU
© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, SPIRIT MUSIC GROUP
Then he went solo on ‘Waitin’ for My Man,’ which he sings as a love song to me.
‘Everybody’s pinned you and nobody cares
He’s got the works, gives you sweet taste’
at which he kisses me on the lips. The girls in the crowd start screaming and the guys look like they’re going to attack. Max comes bounding on stage and growls at them. Jace finishes and goes right into the Stones, ‘Let’s Spend the Night Together,’
“I love you more than ever,” not even looking at the crowd. I turn around and we were playing guitar back to back, butt to wiggling butt. More screams and plastic cups come flying from the back of the crowd. Next Jace goesright into ‘Sympathy for the Devil,’ changing all the words around,
“Please allow us to introduce ourselves, we’re men of sexual needs, been around a long long time, won’t listen to Jesus’ pleas.”
He lets me play the Keith Richard parts, while he sings behind me, rubbing his groin into my butt. People up front start to go “Yeah, fuck that boy.” There’s a fight in the back, and more cups come flying. Jace now switches to Bowie’s ‘All the Young dudes,’ while I shout out the ‘where are you’s.’
More fighting in the back. The girls up front are getting into the music, whistling and going all googly-eyed at us. Their boyfriends are trying to hold onto them. Jace switches genders in Bowie’s ‘Suffragette City,
Hey man, ah leave me alone you know
Hey man, well Henry, get off the phone, I gotta
Hey man, I gotta straighten my face
This mellow gay dude just put my spine out-of-place
Hey man, my school day’s insane
Hey man, my work’s down the drain
Hey man, well he’s a total blam-blam
He said he had to squeeze it but he then he
Ah don’t lean on me man, cause you can’t afford the ticket
I’m back from Suffragette City
Oh don’t lean on me man ’cause you ain’t got time to check it
You know my Suffragette City is outta sight, he’s all right…”
BOWIE, DAVID /
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC, TINTORETTO MUSIC
and then going into ‘You Pretty Things.’
People are still fighting in the back, slowly working their way to the front. Jace jumps into ‘Radar Love,’ playing the long solo lead himself, and then doing the vocals while I play lead.
In front, everyone is dancing and jumping around to the music. Robby and Michael are going crazy on the double drums. By the time the fighters get to the front, it creates a mosh pit of swirling bodies, thrown punches, people going down, then getting trampled. Jace changes the final lyrics:
‘When I get lonely, and I’m sure I’ve had enough
He sends his comfort, comin’ in from above
We don’t need no letter at all
We’ve got a thing that’s called radar love
We’ve got a line in the sky
We’ve got a thing that’s called radar love
We’ve got a thing that’s called radar love’
KOOYMANS, GEORGE / HAY, BARRY
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
We go back to Bowie and do “Panic in Detroit.” with no gender bending.
The swirling mosh pit gets everyone moving in the same direction and people start picking up those who fall and get trampled. A gay boy with a black eye comes up and gives us two beers. We need it and pause while everyone settles down. Some guys are still trying to attack others, but the pit thrashers hold them at bay.
“You guys can’t take our gaydar love?” I shout, croaking. “Let’s take a step back into the 60s.” I pointed to Jill, who had been watching in shock. The Jacettes all come up with her, like bodyguards.
“Jill’s the sweetest person I know. She and her boyfriend were the first couple to accept me and my boyfriend when I came to Miami. She’s going to calm down the hate.”
Jace starts the guitar intro and Jill comes in with a high, lilting voice,
“You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul
You’ll be my breath should I grow old.
You are my lover, you’re my best friend.”
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Everyone is spellbound after the hate and anger and pride of our set.
She finishes to cheers.
“Wanna do another?” I ask into the mic.
She nod and starts singing without instruments,
‘If I listen long enough to you
I’d find a way to believe that it’s all true
Knowin’ that you lied straight-faced while I cried
Still I look to find a reason to believe
Someone like you makes it hard to live without somebody new
Someone like you makes it easy to give, never think about myself.’
AUSTIN, DALLAS / REYES, TONY / RICHIE, LIONEL /
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group, ALLEN STANTON PRODUCTIONS
Jace comes over and we both sing ‘Maggie May’ to her.
She laughs and kicks us when we sing ‘kicked me in the head.’
At the end, she kisses us both and runs off with the Jacettes.
The crowd is pressing forward and cheering her. We say we ‘re taking a break and the cheers go up. The gay boy comes back with beers for everyone. We collapse next to the stage. Max stands guard as we catch our breath.
“I’ll never get laid tonight,” Hippie complain.
I tell him to do his Doors songs. Then he should run off with the groupies which will be the end of our set.
“What if they try to molest me?”
“Just remember what we told you, if you like it, it ain’t molestation; if you don’t, then you’re being molested. Try to deliver the spunk package this time”
He’s smiling again. Hard to believe how Hippie has become the sweet side of our band.
Grant, the house owner (or his parents) marches over, pissed and ready to fire us. There’s been more than a little damage in the back.
“Hey,” I cut him off before he can start. “We can’t be blamed for what your guests do. Those guys in the back are bigoted assholes.”
“This isn’t New York City, boy. You can’t just go around fagging off in front of my friends.”
“This is how it’s going to play. We’ll do our Jim Morrison songs and end the set. You pay us our $200 bucks right now and 25% of the bar.”
“And if I don’t.”
“We’ll do our metal set and see how much of your house is left once we set off your guests. A little fagging off is nothing compared to a full-on thrashing.”
He turned white and gives me the $200.
“Now let’s see how much is in the bar till”
We walk over. It’s over $3000 already.
“I’ll take a thousand now and we’ll end this after a few songs with no further riot.”
He looks pissed, but he has no choice. We have his guests in our pocket, even the gay bashers.
I go back and find Dave and Jazz.
“Look. We’re playing a short set and then getting the hell out of here quickly. So be ready to move the equipment out as soon as possible.”
“These guys are assholes.”
I couldn’t disagree.
Jill stays with the Jacettes. Everyone is set. I take the mic last, to scattered boos and cheers.
“Having fun, boys?” I ask, to more boos. “Well, we’re not here to ruin your evening. You gay bashers might look up front for your girlfriends who look like they’re crushing on our act. They might find your ‘macho in the morning but can’t get it up at night act’ boring.” More boys and a sprinkling of “Yeahs” in the front from the girls.
“Well, Grant wants us gone, so we’ll do our Doors act and hit the door.”
Jace did the ‘Light my Fire’ intro. Hippie comes up to the mic with me.
He’s forgotten he doesn’t know all the words. We play together and I croak out Jim Morrison just fine. “The Whiskey Song’ goes over well, especially the part of ‘show me the way to the next little girl.”
These guys were all pervs. I move back so Hippie could solo ‘Hello, I Love You.’
The girls instantly recognized a straight boy and flock in front of him. At the end, he puts down his bass and jumps into their waiting arms. He disappears into the crowd.
“That’s all, folks.”
We pack up and are out by the cars in five minutes.
Mr. Antonio comes up to me. “You really pushed it tonight. Lucky for you Max was here.”
Max barks his approval.
“Yeah, we’ll throw him more than a bone once we get home.”
“Speaking of bones. Did they try to stiff you on your fee?”
“He wanted to, but I explained what would happen if we really let the crowd go wild,” and I show him the stack of cash I had.
“You want a job, kid. We could use an enforcer who uses his brains over his muscles.”
I flex for him to show I do have some muscles. Unfortunately, I haven’t worked out in months. He just laughs.
We’re ready to go, but Hippie is not to be seen. I send Dave and Jazz to look for him, suggesting the nearest bathroom. Jazz comes back. He says Hippie is occupied. Dave will drag him out as soon as he’s ‘finished.’ Our boy is a quick learner and not so quick an ejaculator anymore. The two of them show up in due time. I never see Hippie without his angelic smile ever again. Sex Ed. is better as a do it yourself activity.
At Sorrento’s everybody gets $50, including Jill. I give the remaining $700 to Michael’s dad. He tells me he’s just about made back his original investment. It isn’t really about the money; getting his son’s respect has no price. He beams at me. I hug him, knowing it embarrasses him.
“You push the gay, boy,” he laughs.
“It pushes me,” I counter. “I can’t thank you enough for supporting us. All we need now is to impress Jenna’s dad on New Year’s Eve.”
“I’d lay off the gay stuff if you want to do that.”
“It’ll be all Michael’s show.” Then I tell him we have two boys Jenna’s age, who’ll get everyone dancing to the pop oldies we will play.
“I’m still impressed by how much you plan ahead. You’re something, Tim.”
He put his hands up before I could hug him again. I go back to the other table, where everyone was kidding Hippie, asking for details, which are too graphic for enjoyment. I know I need to teach that boy the no kiss & tell rule – don’t.
Nobody complains when I hand out $50 apiece, like the $50 they gotten the night before. Not bad for the weekend though – $100 each. Jill doesn’t want her share. I tell her to listen to her gay dad. She more than earned it. If she hadn’t calmed the animals with Rod Stewart, Grant’s house would be trashed. And we’d not been paid at all. She relents. I take her over to Mr. Antonio’s table where we try to be better company than the horny 15 year olds.
“How do you know Tim?” he asks.
“Well, we’ve gone along on his wonderful/horrible year. My boyfriend’s on the University swim team where Tim showed up last summer. Somehow they were swimming in the same lane at first. David became his first friend.”
“Who’s your boyfriend?”
“David Wilkie. He’s in London, working out with the British National Team for Christmas.”
“I know who he is. He’s a star swimmer. Was Tim also that good? I know he was City Champ, but that’s not the same as a world-class swimmer.”
“I think Tim just adopted us. Then one day he shows up at our door in tears, so we adopted him.”
“He does cry a lot.”
“He holds everything in. Then it bursts out of control.”
“I bought him a guitar. He acted like the world had ended.”
“He’s pretty tough and seems to pull others in, especially boys.”
“Hey, I can hear you, you know,” I pipe up. “My love life is complicated.”
They both laugh and agree I’m dramatizing what seems to be pure lust.
“Well, that’s the way everyone should live.” I assert.
“It’s more complicated,” Michael’s dad notes.
“Why? If you love somebody, don’t let them go.”
“Is it hard with David being in London?” He asks her. I guess they solved my issues.
“Yeah. I worry they’ll make him stay and train for the Olympics next year. But he’s twenty now. He should finish his degree.”
“What about you? Will you go there if he stays.”
“I’m holding out until I finish my degree.”
“Yeah, but Jace and Tim have appointed themselves as my gay parents. They are keeping me from meeting anyone new. Did you see the girls in the band protecting me on stage.”
“That was cute. And you sing beautifully.”
“I told her that.” I add, not sure if I need to protect her from Mr. Antonio. “We can make her the lead singer in a metal band. Dress her like Pat Benetar.”
My enthusiasm makes them laugh.
“What the boys are doing is just fun and having fun with their friends, of which I’m one. Did you see how they got David and me to sing ‘God Save the Queen’ at the frat house?”
“Yeah, they come up with the greatest ideas.”
“That’s us, the geniuserators.”
I feel I should go back to the other table so the adults can pick me over. I’ll get Jill to tell me what Mr. Antonio really thinks about me. And the pot is going round there. I hear Max’s bark of approval. After indulging, I forget about what anyone thinks of me. I make sure Jill is driven home by Hippie, not Michael’s dad.
“Still protecting me, huh?”
“That’s what David says, even the accent.”
“I channel everyone, that’s why I can only sing covers.”
She gives me a peck. I tell her to come to the Viscaya show on New Year’s Eve. We need her to sing. She smiles and says, “Of course.”
Driving home, I notice that Jimmy Olsen is missing.
“He probably got sick of hanging out with high school dropouts.”
“What a sosch.”
Finally, Jace and I are alone, except for Max, who’s well-behaved after getting high at Sorrento’s. Jace pulls off my clothes as I do the same to him. We stand there with full hard-ons. I close the window and lock it. We lick our salty, sweat-stained bodies until we’re both writhing on the bed.
“Take me,” Jace begs, as he maneuvers his legs around my waist. I rub his asshole until the pre-cum has him well lubricated. I pull his legs onto my shoulders. He’s so limber, I double him in two as I kiss him long and deep. His frustration with me peaks until I insert my cock into his spasming ass. It sucks me down to the balls, as he let out a satisfied moan. We both have fucked each other so much that we never feel the typical pain of penetration. Our asses are sculpted to fit each other’s cocks perfectly. If anyone else dares enter there, their presence will be known by the expanded cavity if they were bigger; or by being unsatisfying if smaller. Deep inside him, I remain still, feeling his heart beat on my cock, until his continued frustration makes him stick two fingers up my ass, massaging my sphincter until I can’t stay still. I pull fully out, his finger still teasing my ass. I plunge back all the way to my balls, which slap his sweating ass. Whap, whap whap. I go in and out, savoring his responses, as he hugs me with his arms, legs and ass. His toes tighten and extend upward and downward, trying to keep himself from cumming too soon. I kiss him as my dick thrusts in and out. His tongue rolls around mine, sucking it as he reaches his peak. I love that he never holds back but rushes toward his climax. I know how to time my orgasms to his. I pound his ass. Quickly and ferociously I repeatedly thrust and withdrew, staying deep inside. The base of my cock feels his ass muscles tighten and hold until he jerks and cums, a long stream up my stomach and chest. I let go next, then his second load releases, then the third and fourth. I’m rigid inside him. As he passes his peak, I explode again and again with quick thrusts until I’m spent. He lets loose a final dribble that pools with all the cum on his belly. I can’t withdraw. He holds me inside as I felt his dick twitch. He rolls me over. The cum spills onto my stomach. I know he’s ready to fuck me. It makes me instantly hard. Jace sees my quivering dick and sits on it, taking me deep inside. My balls have received the wrong signals. I instantly start cumming again as he rocks up and down on me. I thrust with each spurt until done. Then he rolls me over and proceeded with the fucking I expected. I arch my back so my butt is sticking up. He grabs my now acceptably long enough hair, pulling it back, so I arched even further. His strokes hit my prostrate exactly where the most pleasure results, milking it so pre-cum joins the spilled jism on the bed. He goes on longer this time. Soon I’m screaming that I’m going to cum again from all the prostrate action. He speeds up his thrusts, pushing me quickly over the edge. He thrusts as deep as possible and holds me as I spurt twice and a third time until my squeezing sends his dick into climax. Deep inside I feel its throb each time he explodes. Then he pulls out and finished between my butt cheeks, sending the last blasts on my back. When he finishes, he collapses on me, smearing the cum between us. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing me so intensely I have to arch again to get him to let me breathe.
“You were screaming,” he whispers.
“I’ve been cumming constantly for five minutes without stop. The well is dry.”
“The well’s a gusher,” he notes.
“You’re my rough-neck oil rig roustabout.”
He finds his shirt on the floor and wipes us dry. We snuggle into each other. It’s morning when I hear pounding on my window. When I open it, Robby recoils from the sight of me naked, hard and covered with dried cum.
“Cover yourself. You gotta see this.” As he holds up the Miami Herald.
“Jace jumps up, causing Robby to again recoil.
“Have pity on a poor straight boy, please,” he begs.
“Take a picture for your memory bank,” Jace mocks him, walking over to see the newspaper.
Cub reporter Jimmy Olsen has sold our story to the mainstream press. The headline read, “BAND DOESN’T NEED THE BEATLES.” It showcases the picture of the three of us hanging on the Jacettes. It talks about Jace saying we mock celebrities who claimed to be False Gods, like John Lennon. It’s pretty accurate about who we are, all friends in the Gables, who play cover songs and are doing parties near home and at the University. It details how fans go crazy as we rip through their favorite bands’ hits, metal, glitter, pop and oldies. It acknowledges Jace as a prodigy who can play any song by ear and from memory, and how we follow his lead. It says one member is just called Hippie, the bass player, who’s the only one with a driver’s license. It calls me a Bowie impersonator who can do R&B like Mick Jagger, pose like Steven Tyler, mug like Gene Simmons, and scream like Robert Plant. I have both boys and girls falling at my feet with my gay antics. It mentions Out & Proud and how we played in the street during Christmas week. The double drummers are praised as an innovation due to the guitar and vocals overpowering just one drummer. It calls Robby our cult leader, singing our original eponymous song ‘False Gods,’ which make kids run in fear from his Ozzie Osbourne antics. We have an Iggy Pop impersonator who gets the crowd angry because we won’t play the Stooges, until they charge the stage and took over the band. He reviewed our show last night, where the crowd went crazy about our gay antics resulting in a stand-off between angry metal heads and our Glitter defenders, until a U of M co-ed got up and sang Rod Stewart love songs to quiet the crowd. It calls Hippie, the quiet one, who turns into a sex-crazed Jim Morrison, ending the show when a crowd of girls chase him into the bathroom and tear off his clothes.
He goes on to predict that the ticket nobody can get and everybody wants is our New Years Eve show at Viscaya where we planned to do a 50s sock hop for our drummer’s girlfriend and her friends, invitation only. It quotes Michael as promising we’ll only play dance songs, with no evil intentions. “We are a band that plays for fun. We want to make sure everyone who hears us enjoys rock n roll.” Maybe they are the future, local kids who just play what they like and don’t care about the music business. Maybe rock n roll is just for those who haven’t grown up.
I’m mad at him for describing me as gay when he said he’d ask me first, but he doesn’t really say I’m gay. Jace like that he says we all follow him, which is true but he isn’t reallyour fearless leader. Robby says he isn’t running a cult and that Mael is a real god. We tell him to tell that to the masses. Mary thinks it’s typical that the girls are in the photo but not mentioned in the story. I call Hippie to warn him that his moms might see the story, but he’s still in la la land about last night. So I talk to Meg, who I think was more on our side. I hope she will tell Marge to cool it. She laughs when I tell her.
“Our little Gregory has grown up to be a sex fiend? Does he even know what to do?”
“We told him we all would tell him about the birds & bees when we come to dinner there, so you don’t think we are misleading him.”
“Well, what happened when they took his pants down?”
“Well, the first time he shot his load before anything. Have you ever talked to him about sex?”
“And make him into a chauvinist pig?”
“Good point. We’ll all talk to him together. We’re gay, so we know about chauvinist pigs.”
“Let’s make sure he doesn’t come home with some whiner and her baby.”
“Good point again. We’ll double team him.”
Mary makes us all go to church with her. We meet Flo and Edi there. It’s fun to sing all the hymns and wave our arms around. I find my voice is much better. The girls are happy that we attended. They introduce us to their other friends. Someone tells Flo that her picture is in the Sunday paper. We all run out and buy a bunch of copies.
“How come they only write about the guys,” Flo complains.
“You all are eye candy,” I tell her. She likes that.
Her father comes in and asks about the photo, which she shows him. He looks at me and asks why I have my hands on his daughter.”
“Todas nostros estos in banda juntos.” I answer.
“He asks me “?porqu hable espanol?’
“Estudio in mi escuela.”
“Okay. Keep your hands off my daughter.”
As soon as he leaves, Flo gives me a kiss and winks at me.
“He thinks you’re serious about us because you went to our church today.”
“That’s a bad thing?”
“TIt’s a good thing, but he’s watching you now.”
Next we go to Out & Proud, which is pretty crowded for a Sunday. When Felix waves to us, all the girls turn around. They scream and ran out the door to meet us. It’s Beatle Mania. We push our way inside. Felix instantly puts us to work behind the counter. Sales are brisk, with the girls asking us to sign things for them. We ask if their boyfriends are embarrassed to wear gay clothing especially signed by other guys.
“No. we’re going to wear them. We adore the gay look.” Felix is in sales heaven. He tells us that we were due a bonus for getting his shop in the Herald.”
“How about 5% of sales, like when we played outside.”
He goes to the registered, counts his sales and gives us each one hundred bucks.
“You’ve already sold $4000 today?”
“We’re on pace for that. If you keep making appearances, it’ll be every day until your fame runs out.”
I thought that fame is definitely fleeting, so why not cash in.
All the girls were flocking around Mary, asking all kinds of questions about us. Who is going with who, if I’m gay why do I have a girlfriend, and what kind of underwear I wear. When Felix hears that question, he herds us into the back and makes us put on the most garish briefs he can find. They stick up way above our jeans, which he pulls down even further. After we go back to the counters, his whole selection is sold out in ten minutes. We’re signing underwear. I ask, “What’s your boyfriend’s name?” Then I write a personal message to him and signed it. I even write a bogus phone number to call. That backfires when one of the girls tries the number. We’re caught. We’re excused by telling them we were only kidding their boyfriends, because they had to be too young for us. We told them to always go out with someone their own age.
“How old is your boyfriend?” one asks.
Jace answers, “I’m 15.”
They all gasp and say, “But you have a girlfriend?”
“We both like boys and girls, but just our own age.”
Then they want pictures with us together, so we kiss. All the flashes go off.
Felix positions us below the Out & Proud sign. We kiss again with our arms around all the girls. Of course they notice that we both are hard.
“Oh, they really are gay,” they scream and point.
The cops come by, telling Felix that Christmas is over. They have to keep the street clear. Felix shows them the Herald article. They laugh and say to keep the noise down. Felix goes to the complaining neighbor, explaining that drawing a crowd is good for business for everyone. I count over twenty young girls on the sidewalk trying to get in. There are a few gay guys, definitely in their twenties. I realize that Phillip isn’t there.
“Oh, I dumped him,” Felix explains. ‘He was too jealous of my sugar daddy.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that. He said he’s ancient at 35.”
“That boy needs to grow up.”
“You guys had fun at our Friday show?”
“Yeah, but not enough Bowie. And I hear you had a riot last night?
“Yeah, the haters were out, but the glitter boys defend us. That’s what saved us, plus Max growled at the metal heads.”
“Will you guys come by more. You look really hot in that underwear.”
“I look even hotter without it on.”
He gives me a quick kiss, making sure Jace isn’t watching.
“Naughty boy Felix. You’re my boss.”
“I’ll let you boss me around.”
Now Jace knows something’s up. Luckily it isn’t my cock. We have to leave, Felix throws a bunch of shirts at us, yelling “I ordered Love jeans for next week.”
“We’ll be back.”
Luckily he’s sold out all the gay underwear.
Jace keeps snapping my butt with the elastic waist band. Mary says she’d never seen both of us acting out and proud before. I show her the hundred bucks we both made, “It’s just a job.”
Robby takes note of the cash, saying, “I can act just as gay.”
“You’ll always be straight underneath. Felix thinks you’re too dark with all the occult shit.”
“Get him to open a ‘Dark & Mysterious’ shop.”
“He’s got a sugar daddy who pays for the store. We’ve made it profitable, so Felix’s has it made both ways, his daddy pays the bills and he keeps the profits.”
That makes him think, but Mary slaps him, “Don’t even think about a sugar daddy. You’re my sugar daddy.”
“Jace did call him the ‘Sugar Plum Fairy.”
“I ain’t a fairy.”