To Do: Me

Oopsie. I was wrapping something up in my To Do file and found this section chunked out. I never posted it here. It's possibly one of my favorite bits of writing ever. I tell you, I fell in love with Merritt and her men and her drag queens, and yes, her mother in this book. I kind of miss hanging out with them.

Maybe later today on the To Do list will be: ME. Heh. Wish me luck!

XOXO
Sommer

From Calendar Girl by Sommer Marsden

"Sorry about all the drama," I said.

"Hey, I'll never get bored, will I?"

"Not if I'm in a five mile radius." I rubbed with the tips of my fingers and Shane let out a low needy moan. Just then Bubbles reappeared and grinned a candy colored grin.

"Don't let me stop you, kiddies. Go for it." Here are you drinks, the first round are on Cloville, she left word. And she said to tell you, "To watch out for mamma she's three sheets to the wind and ready to climb in the cage."

"Yeah, we see that," I sighed.

"Got it. Don't worry," Bubbles said, leaning in and giving me a shot of colossal cleavage. "I used to be a bouncer. I've got your back."

"Thanks, Bubbles," I said and slid a ten spot in her chesticles. That is Jeffrey's pet name for his 'bosoms' as his grandmother was prone to calling them.

She sauntered off, swinging her hips lavishly while perched atop four inch stacked heels. Something I could never do. The houselights went down, the cages glowed with neon outlines and the stage lights went up. I heard the tell tale traffic whistle and grinned. And the background singers Toot-toot, Beep-beep...and then there he was. My Jeffrey, my Cloville. "Bad girls..." and he launched into the most kick ass Donna Summers impression ever.

I was singing along, touching Shane with one hand, watching my mother with one eye. Talk about being distracted. Jack gyrated in his blue neon cage and my mother started doing hand gestures as she sang. Bad Girls had played in our house back in the day. My parents had been pretty good with a variety of music. I was a bit too young to remember Donna in her heyday but I certainly knew her music. And I remembered my brother Jack doing a stellar lip synch to this song.

Jack shook his tush, my mother did traffic cop gestures, I swigged my surfer and Jeffrey broke out in a damn good disco queen dance move, his purple and sliver jumpsuit throwing off sparks of light from the glitter ball that turned just for him.

"Awesome," I whispered and Shane leaned in close, his face dappled by the funky techno light, and he kissed me, running his big hands up the front of my jean legs.

We faced each other at an odd angle, but I scootched in closer, hugged him close and he put his hands on my waist, his lips in my hair. God, the man smelled better than any human had a right to.

His lips crushed down on mine and I was just losing myself in the kiss when he said: "Uh-oh."

"No, no, uh-oh," I said.

Jeffrey and his backup girls had hit the talking part of the song where Donna, aka bad girl, is carted off. I would not look. I would. Not. Look.

I looked. "Oh shit."

My mother was climbing–yes, climbing–onto her table and into Jack's cage. My brother was torn and even in the strange, glittery sci-fi light, I could see his panic. His painted eyes flew wide and his shimmy jittered and his shake stalled and then he stared at me. At me!

I shook my head.

Jack kept dancing but now my mother was doing a stuttering bump and grind, disco queen gone bad kind of dance. Cloville waved a hand at me. It looked like part of his act, but it wasn't. It was the handle it hand and I mouthed, "No."
I turned to Shane. If I kept kissing him, then I would not see the obvious destruction and scarring for life that was about to rain down on us like the apocalypse. At least that's how it felt.

But Shane was no good. Shane had that same look you get when you pass a really bad accident. Mouth open, eyes fixed, thousand yard stare, pulse barely visible at his throat. The song was winding down and I had to do something.

"Fine! Fine, fine, fine, it's me. Again! Always me. Me, me, me," I muttered and grumbled. I stood, smoothed my red tunic over my jeans and stalked over to the cage. It was about three feet off the floor and swinging madly as it was made for one man in a dress not a man in spandex and his mother. I grabbed the lip of the door shaped hole in the thing and yanked. The cage–only meant to hold one gyrating person–dipped and swayed wildly and my mother and brother both let out horrible shrieks like exotic jungle birds.

My foot found a chair and then a table and I sort of stumble-fell-sank into the cage that actually groaned.

Jeffrey was wrapping up his song but even over the din I heard a collective gasp from the audience. And then, "Put your helmets on, people." I was pretty sure that was Bubbles.

"Mother, get out of the cage," I hissed. But it was really more of a yell because it was so fucking loud in the joint.

"I want to be with my baby," she said. Okay, so I could totally hear the slur in her voice. And I could also see the tears in her eyes and I half wanted to hug her and tell her it would be all right and half wanted to cold-cock her so I could haul her bony ass out of the alarmingly pitching cage.

"I know, Ma. I know. Come on, I'm your baby, too, come be with me."

My mother fixed her glazed, inebriated gaze on me and God love him Jack never missed a pelvic thrust or shoulder shimmy. He was going to dance come Hell or high water. With his mother and sister in the cage or not. Only I could see that up close his eyes shone with pent up tears and his jaw was so tight he could have cracked walnuts in his teeth.

"But you are too busy giving that nice young man a hand job under the table."

My mouth popped open but Jack's laughter came out. Now he was crying but it was because he was laughing so damn hard. Jeffrey bowed and left the stage and someone queued the techno dance music. Jack started to dance faster.

"It…I…Mother! It was not a hand job. I was rubbing his…thigh."

"Hmm. He has three thighs?" my mother giggled.

My brother was now clutching the woven edges of the bobbing cage but still shaking his ass. That twit. "Mother! Come with me. Come on, I'll buy you a drink."

Jack shook his head and I shushed him. For Pete's sake. I wasn't really going to buy her a drink. And then all hell broke loose and we were surrounded by security, three burly drag queens, a pissed off Jeffrey, a giggling Bubbles and Lord have mercy on him, Shane.

My mother finally took stock of all the hoopla and snorted. "Fine. You people are so dramatic," she said and did her best at a classy and dainty almost-exit from the cage. I say almost-exit because we both had one foot out of the structure when the chain that held it groaned and then the whole fucking support snapped and we were a cage full of screaming Mimi's falling to earth.