Jo
Part of the problem is how I want a shower, but I’d already put on the clothes I was going to wear tonight. I’ve got enough time, I think, to strip and throw things in the washing machine for a quick cycle while I eat, then the most important stuff in the dryer while I lie down, and I should still have time to check it and make sure before the drag show starts.
Ricky’s been doing it for years. The way he tells it, he shouldn’t even have to keep putting his application in, but those are the rules. They know all the way back in March if they’re performing, and what three songs, and it’s even a paid gig. That’s on top of the tips, which Chase warned me about, so I made sure to change a twenty into a roll of ones.
I didn’t ask him what would happen if I showed up with a wad of Monopoly money. It would be risky, since I’d have no idea what I was buying, but the fifty dollar one can’t be too scandalous. Right?
Ricky’s the one who called me instead of Jamie, but I can’t say I’m all that surprised. I’ve had limited time to study Helen, but she seems to be one of those who think asking for help is admitting weakness, and admitting weakness is the greatest sin. Helen’s always right, and she’s the epitome of Mother knows best. I’m not sure how that worked when Elias was still alive, especially because he was a college professor and the reason they moved to Marquette in the first place, but she’s very firm about that now.
I think half the reason the group adopted the one of today’s lucky ten thousand is to reframe it for Jamie. Helen would never admit she’d learned something new, although she’d totally toss some fact off after to make sure you learned something new. The problem, though, is that she’s about as accurate as Buzzfeed’s clickbait, but she’d never lower herself to Googling.
Her first comment about my odd choice of library books was par for the course. She’s not a nonfiction reader because nonfiction means learning, and she’s just utterly incurious. She knows what she knows, and anything beyond that is unnecessary. She’s been fine without it so far, so why worry now?
Does she know Jamie’s ace? The shirt’s pretty subtle, which is why I chose mine. The people who know will get it, but it’s also the kind of generic message that means the broader population might laugh or simply accept the maxim and then dismiss it. Ace is a hard one because there aren’t any standard tells, the way Ricky plays up his affectations or the other guys signal their identity on a frequency not everyone can hear. I mean, they probably picked up on the fact that I’m comfortable in a queer group of friends, but they’re also cool enough that nobody cornered me on it to ask me directly.
Okay and now my brain is whirling, so I check the time left on the washing machine—it’s more reliable than the dryer, at least—and get into the shower. I don’t need to wash my hair again, necessarily, especially since the latest my hairdresser told me is that you shouldn’t do that more than once a day, but I can scrub the rest of me. It’s not super gross, but yeah, it was close and warm in the food truck, and I do need a break before tonight. At least the shower takes up time, so the washing machine’s done when I get out and I transfer things to the dryer and get that started.
Do I need to set an alarm if the dryer’s also going to beep at me? Probably, because otherwise I’ll lie here too anxious to actually fall asleep, worried I’ll miss it. I’m not sure how late the other food trucks are serving, but Jamie’s will stop at six—if they haven’t run out before then—so nobody has to be working or cleaning up during the drag show. I’m not sure when he’s actually going to be able to move the truck, but we’ve all been given strict orders to report to the tent at least fifteen minutes before Ricky goes onstage. I’m not sure if he’ll be peeking or if Chase will text him or what, but that’s the request—almost a demand—and I’ll honor it.
I set the alarm, lie down, and close my eyes, and apparently it works because even though I don’t really think I fell asleep, I’m waking up, and rubbing my eyes, and heading into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face before I check the dryer. That’s good to go, so I debate, conclude I can get some caffeine at PrideFest, and get dressed again so I can head out. This time I’m walking, and I make sure to still bring along a hoodie, since I’m not sure how late I’ll be expected to be out.
This time I also pay at the entrance. It’s not the same person as the one who let me through with my giant totes of rolls, and I would’ve avoided them anyway because I’m committed to paying and doing my part, but I’m in and veering left to the craft vendors instead of right to the food trucks this time. There’s a short line at Jamie’s, and Talon looks busy, so I keep enough of an eye out in case he waves but otherwise I’m determined to ignore them for now, thanks.
Chase isn’t showing up until later, and Mitch and Trevor are helping out at one of the stalls. I’m not sure what Dune’s up to, so I might still run into someone, but Jamie’s still a captive for another hour or so. It’s not like I can’t enjoy the vendors and stuff on my own, but man, it’s kind of scary how fast I’ve gotten used to being able to turn to him for his opinion on just about anything.
Jake and I fell fast. It was easy. And it took over a decade to show cracks, so I really can’t trust anything. Not even my own gut at this point, though it’s clearly hesitating. Maybe Jamie hasn’t made a move—and hey, maybe he doesn’t want to make a move—but I saw his shirt, and I saw him looking at mine, so that’s one barrier down.
There’s still another one on my end, though, and he has no idea it exists.
Chapter Twenty – coming October 20
