Frenchfeeder's Library

Fooling around [season 1, episode 3] —

Monday, early morning — July 2000

Lou had the detailed map of Pleasance Bay spread all over the kitchen table. He sat with a stack of legal documents on his knees, next to a pile of papers he had read through. Standing over the map and going from one place to the next, Chris marked the borders of every new stretch of land he learned that they now owned. Lou kept going with their estate papers, but they were almost done... Chris reckoned that the puzzle was pretty much completed.

The mystery behind it was still to be fathomed.

– “So, did you do the math? What does it amount to, after all this?”

– “About 21000 acres of land by the coast... Once you've considered the government's property, like the lighthouse where Hawk lives, and you're at a safe distance from the cliffs, there's this long stretch of beach with coves and piers that belong to us, and at least thirty farms with fields of crops, green pastures and forests...”

– “That's even larger than anything I had in mind.”

– “Quite the puzzle, all right...”

– “What did these Russians want to do with such an estate?”

– “Build a golf course, maybe?”

Chris let out a deep sigh.

– “You're probably right... Leave it to the rickety, rackety, rank rich!”

– “Maybe this is too big for us.” Lou rested his chin on his hands.

– “Nuh huh! This is exactly what we need. There's no such thing as “too big”, when it comes to our line of business.”

– “What's our line, at the moment?”

– “Real estate. That's where you make real money today... Apartments. Flats. Farms and houses. Be a landlord and lord over the realm! If that piece of shit Donald Trump gets to be a billionnaire, any idiot can do it.”

– “His father just died... We didn't inherit all this.”

– “Even better. We get to own what we have!”

– “And we are not into basic, money-grubbing real estate. Austin and Ryan have gone downtown, almost door-to-door with flyers to keep people aware that this hotel still stands and will open again soon.”

– “I know... I have mixed feelings about it.”

– “It's unlikely that we find regular customers among them, but we'll have to hire waiters and waitresses, chambermaids and everything. It's essential to stay on good terms with your local community.”

– “Of course.”

– “We're not running casinos. We're not slumlords either. Trump can sit on his fat ass, do drugs and porn stars, claim to shoot for the stars and hopefully drink himself to an early grave... We have some real project to deal with.”

The back door to the kitchen was opened, behind them... Austin and Ryan were coming back from what looked like a rough night out.

Austin had to be hammered like a nail on the wall. Ryan was there to help him stand straight and walk into the kitchen, with his arm wrapped around his back and a hand holding his sloshing, overhanging belly.

The blonde guy was clearly sober, but he didn't look any better for it. There were traces of blood on his T-shirt, on his cheek and on his neck... He sported a band-aid on his right eyebrow.

– “What have you two been up to?”

– “Up to no good, for sure...” Ryan sighed as he let Austin slide down and sit on a chair like a stuffed animal. “Just down to the local bars.”

– “Oh...” Chris raised an eyebrow. “And you let Austin drink?”

– “I didn't stop him soon enough...”

– “But you haven't been drinking.” Lou commented.

– “I was driving, guys. I'm not that irresponsible...”

– “Okay. What happened?”

Ryan sat down next to Austin. The younger black boy immediately took advantage, leaning to the side and grabbing his friend's leather jacket, dozing off against his chest, head on his shoulder.

– “We shouldn't have gone to the Roadkill. That was a bit too far out of town, and maybe too far out of our league.”

– “What's wrong with that place?”

– “Oh, there was nothing wrong with that place... We certainly weren't at the wrong place, according to the guys at the bar, playing pool and darts and all. We were wrong to think we'd be welcome in the first place.”

– “I see...”

– “So, what did you guys do?”

– “Austin didn't want us to back down. I guess he was still a bit hot from his Mai Tais at the Blue Hawaii bar in downtown Pleasance.”

– “Pleasance...” Austin almost belched. “What's so pleasant about this place, really? I bet these folks were called peasants until, like... four years ago, and they got sick of it? Who wouldn't be sick of it? and them? and this place?”

– “It's okay, Austin... You're okay.” Ryan kept him wrapped in a soft bear hug. “Let's get you to bed. Lie down. Get some sleep.”

– “It's almost 8AM.” Lou observed.

– “I know.”

Ryan's look didn't require any kind of answer. Austin moaned.

– “I'm hungry...”

– “When you wake up, I'll fix you a nice, big and greasy breakfast. Tall stacks of pancakes with lots of butter and maple syrup, scrambled eggs and bacon, gobs of whole milk... Perfect for a hangover.”

– “Okay.”

– “That will get you sober in no time...”

– “And fat!” Chris and Lou grinned at the cook. “Don't forget fat.”

Austin looked ready to sleep until noon.

– “Seriously, what did you do?”

– “I didn't know what to do, okay?” Ryan looked straight at them. “We were in trouble from the get-go... One guy dared me to get on stage and sing a song for them with their karaoke machine. I didn't want to leave Austin alone in that crowd. And I'm not much of a singer...”

Austin looked up, and thumped his friend's chest a few times.

– “When you sing and I close my eyes, you sound like a Valley girl gay version of Barry White... Those guys only wanted to pick up a fight, but I was drunk like a skunk.”

– “And they called me a skank.” Ryan helped Austin get to his feet. “Long story short, they booed me out of stage and both of us out of their dive.”

– “Okay.” Lou concluded. “Austin? Take the day off and sleep on it. Ryan? You have some serious work to do.”

– “I'll get back to it in a moment.”

Austin nodded, and went upstairs. Lou folded the map and set it aside with his files... Chris wasn't blind. Their dumb blonde friend didn't say a word but he looked restless, and his knuckles were bruised. When they were alone in the kitchen, he had a few more questions for him.

– “How about this, Mr Responsible Driver?”

Chris held Ryan's paw in his hands, gently — up to his lips.

– “Don't ask... and don't tell Austin.” Ryan mumbled, looking down.

– “You went for a street fight when he was drinking at the bar?”

– “I got into a fight when he was seated in the car. Passed out, but safe. Austin doesn't remember what happened, last night. I think. And there's no need for him to even think about it.”

– “All right...”

– “No need for you to tell about it either.”

– “Not a word. At least for now... You take care of Austin, but you'll have to take better care of yourself too, you know.”

– “I know.”

– “I mean... with the photo shoot.”

– “What photo shoot?”

– “Huh... I see someone wasn't listening when Lou introduced his plans for our new communication strategy.”

– “We have a communication strategy? That's new...”

– “Those cute little flyers you spent all day stuffing into mail boxes, yesterday? That was only a teaser. Next thing you know, posters!”

– “Posters?”

– “With your face on it. Shirtless upper body, at least.”

– “No way...”

– “The photograph will be here about 2PM.”

– “But why? I mean... Why me?”

Ryan didn't look pleased with the suggestion. He got suspicious.

– “Did you guys really tell me about it?”

– “Come on, we voted on it and everything. It was unanimous.”

– “We voted on this? I don't remember any of it.”

– “Okay, so you were down at the dairy farm to get milk from those guys who, as we've found out this morning, live on our property and actually work for us... and there we were. Hawk was there. I'm telling you, we all voted for you.”

– “I would have voted against it.”

– “Yeah... We figured, you'd be in the minority anyway. So you'd better pretty up when you're done with Austin's “breakfast” and our lunch.”

Chris was on his way out. Ryan stood helpless by the kitchen counter.

– “That's not a plan... It's a scam!”

■ ■ ■

Monday at noon — in the patio, by the pool

Austin gobbled hiw way through two large plates of eggs and bacon. He devoured three stacks of pancakes, a platter of cinnamon rolls, brownies and a whole strawberry shortcake, then asked for more apple pecan pie to finish his coffee... Chris had never seen his cousin eat so fast.

– “Are you in a hurry or something?”

– “Going to Hawk's place tonight... I want to look gook.”

– “You want to look full.”

Even as he got up to leave the breakfast table, Austin was buzzing like a busy bee, going and coming around his friends.

– “Be honest, guys... Do these jeans make me look fat?”

Chris and Lou took a look at him, for the sake of being polite.

– “Let's just say... They don't hide it.”

– “And if you keep snacking like this, they won't hide anything when you bend over.”

– “Or turn around.”

– “Or wave good-by.”

– “Just a few more chocolate cakes and it's “Bye bye, buttons !” for you.”

Austin hugged the two of them with open arms.

– “Thanks, guys! You're the best.”

– “And we're kidding, of course...” Lou grinned. “You don't look that fat! Certainly not fat enough for Hawk! Have another cupcake.”

Chris and Lou took turns to feed him a bit more forcefully, smothering the poor boy as they pressed thick, smooth chocolate cupcakes against his lips. Austin moaned with delight... Ryan came back from the kitchen, ready to cook a hearty lunch for his grown-up friends.

– “Going for an early afternoon nap, Austin?”

– “That's right.” The stuffed boy proudly thumped his stomach.

– “Okay... I'll treat you with a really nice breakfast, tomorrow morning, nice and big and on a regular schedule for breakfast. Then you'll have to spend some time with me at the gym.”

– “Why?”

– “You and I have some training to do. One could say... rehearsal too.”

– “Rehearsal? For what?”

– “I just had the owner of the Roadkill roadhouse and steakhouse on the phone. Everyone's looking forward to our song-and-dance number. And he did mean you and me, Austin.”

– “Song and dance... I'm not following you, Ryan.”

– “Next time we go there, you'll follow me on stage. And dazzle.”

Lou had to ask about it.

– “Did those guys challenge you, or...”

– “Let's say they did. We can't just leave everything as it is, anyway, if we want to start a new business around Pleasance.”

Chris nodded.

– “I hate to say this, but he's right... We have to earn their respect. One way or another.”

– “What were you guys going for?”

– “Well, first things first...” Lou took out a list of names he had to call. “Chris and I wanted to introduce ourselves to the local farmers. Get to know them and tell them about our plans for the future.”

– “Tell them that they won't be evicted...”

– “And that they can make an honest living if they work for us.”

– “Sounds good to me...” Ryan smiled. “Would you mind if I join you? I happen to know quite a few of them. I've bought some stuff over the last few months.”

– “That would make our job a lot easier.”

Only Austin wasn't too fond of the way things happened to turn out. He liked to dance but he certainly didn't want to spend hours training for it at the gym, with a heavy duty trooper like Ryan...

■ ■ ■

Thursday evening — Hawk's place, by the lighthouse

At least Austin was rewarded for all his efforts, when he spent the night with Hawk. After hours of hard work and workout, at the gym and in the kitchen, he should expect to be pampered in bed.

Hawk certainly appreciated his boyfriend's recent progress.

– “You've put on some good weight, lately.”

– “Healthy weight too, with this new workout deal.”

– “What's it all about? I don't get it.”

– “Ryan wants us me to shine with him in a song-and-dance number...”

– “Why?”

– “I don't know... I think he wants to keep me in good shape, anyway. He just doesn't want to say it out loud... This is one way for him to make me stay active, and not feel like a drill instructor or a military P.E. coach. He's still going for it one hundred percent.”

– “I didn't expect him to be strict like that.”

– “He's not. It's also a good way for him to keep my appetite way up!”

– “Oh... Well, I can only approve this.”

– “After every workout, he also massages my back and lower back, then I'm both relaxed and hungry.”

Hawk frowned... Once again, Ryan's decisions and initiatives were only acceptable up to a certain point — and he could never tell where the line was drawn.

– “What keeps you busy for the rest of the day?”

– “Not much... At least for me.”

– “How about your cousin Chris? And Lou?”

– “They are visiting a few local farmers. Cattle farmers, pig farmers, egg farmers, dairy farmers and so on... They are so not done.”

– “How is it going, so far?”

– “Better than expected, to be honest... Of course, those guys resent having to take a look at legal documents and stuff. Who wants to feel wrapped in red tape? But Lou has been dealing with all of them like a pro. They can start spreading the word that everyone's life should go on as usual, and that they can make a decent living if we keep buying local products for the Pleasure Dome.”

– “That's clever of him... Tough men like those farmers would sooner die than be associated with any line of business that could be painted pink, but it will be hard not to accomodate their landlords and customers.”

– “I know, that was Lou's plan from the beginning.”

– “What do you think? Do you see it working okay?”

– “We'll have to wait and see.” Austin shrugged. “Just one thing... About those tough, gun-toting cowboys and manly, manly men?”

– “Yes?”

– “I wouldn't be too concerned about them feeling quite comfortable that they get to wear something pink, every now and then..”

– “What do you mean?”

– “By the end of every visit, when Lou and Chris were done talking with the boss, and I was taste-testing a little bit of this and that... we found Ryan having a pretty good time on his own with one or two farmhands.”

– “I see.”

– “He had told us that he already knew quite a few of them.”

– “You just didn't know how intimately he knew them...”

– “Yeah.”

– “Making out?”

– “T-shirt riding up. Pants button popped off. Tongue and all.”

– “That sounds just like him...”

– “What did you expect? Farm boys know a stud when they see one.”

– “Okay... Maybe you guys are safe with the people you will work with.”

Austin could tell that Hawk had something else in mind.

– “Is there something we should be worried about?”

– “Not something so much... More like, someone.”

– “Who would that be?”

– “The man who would be our next mayor.”

– “The next mayor of Pleasance?”

– “Exactly. You haven't noticed his campaign ads, all over town?”

– “I haven't, really... Who are you dealing with?”

– “Biggest bigot you'll ever meet. Richard Nelson Cochrane.”

■ ■ ■

Friday morning — Lou's office, at the Pleasure Dome hotel

– “Richard Nelson Cochrane?”

– “That's the one. The one and only, according to this.”

Chris was reading through the campaign programs... Mayor Cochrane's reelection was considered a sure thing in Pleasance, but his most recent decisions on social issues had raised some controversy. He had cut down budgets for a number of public services — so much that a nurse at the local hospital was now campaigning against him. She didn't stand much of a chance, but her rise in the polls was enough to put Cochrane in an awkward position, and naturally stick to his guns with a stern stance on a number of issues.

– “Issues like...”

– “As my Economics professor put it once, all Political issues fall into two categories: the real ones which no person in his right mind can fix alone, and the imaginary ones which any charlatan tells you he can fix better than anyone... The first category require some thinking, common sense and good will. Politicians dwell in the second category, and they make a fortune selling trinklets against spells or curses that don't even exist.”

– “So this... Richard N. Cochrane is a real politician.”

– “I'm afraid that he is. I wonder how he got elected in the first place.”

– “What kind of imaginary threats is he protecting us from?”

– “Huh... As a matter of fact, he would rather protect the good people of Pleasance against... people like us.”

– “Anti-gay policies, really?”

– “Not that it's his Number One argument to get reelected, if it helps you feel any better. It's like... third or fourth after anti-drugs policies, anti-abortion policies, anti-immigration policies... The list goes on, of course.”

– “Of course. I know that list...”

Lou let out a deep, almost growling sigh.

– “Honestly? Every time someone hands me one of those programs, in the street, I feel like I'm being told that I should be the stillborn issue of an underaged immigrant girl raped by an alcoholic border patrol officer on drugs... Because being gay must be the next-worst thing, according to them. It makes me sick!”

Chris had never seen his friend get so angry over a piece of paper.

– “I guess we'll have to fight this.”

– “Yes...”

Lou's tone of voice was still rough, almost hoarse.

– “I'm beginning to understand how Ryan feels about this.”

– “What do you mean?”

– “This little song-and-dance show he wants to put on.”

– “Yes?”

– “I can't even picture Ryan and Austin dancing to save their own lives. Ryan's too bulky to be a dancer, and Austin is getting too fat. But they're going for it. I think I'll give them a hand...”

– “What would you do?”

– “Sing.”

– “You would sing?”

– “The way I see it, they can pull it off with a short number on a stage or the dance floor... but they can't sing. They should leave that part to someone who can handle a mic.”

– “Someone like you?”

– “Why, someone who was raised on karaoke before he could walk to the stage or stand up in front of a crowd? Yes, that's someone like me!”

– “Okay, no argument there.” Chris smiled.

– “Besides... if this could help me convince Ryan to put some effort into his photo shoot.”

– “What's wrong with his photo shoot?”

– “It is not going well.”

As a matter of fact, according to the photographer himself, Ryan's first attempts at modelling for their new business was just catastrophic.

For almost a week, he had spent three to four hours in the afternoon with a professional, he had followed his instructions to the letter, and he must have put on his best behavior to make a good impression... Every evening, the photographer had to scrap all the pictures he had taken. At this point, they had nothing to show for, and Lou would have to call for another photographer.

– “What's wrong with the pictures?”

– “I don't know. The guy told me that Ryan was impossible to shoot.”

– “Seriously?”

– “I can't explain it either... He's a good-looking guy.”

– “You'd think it's only too easy.”

– “To hit on him, sure...”

– “Now that you mention it, I can't remember finding a picture of Ryan anywhere in this hotel... Not that I've been looking for it.”

– “I'm calling the studio. They'll send someone else, We'll get it done.”

They could hear Austin and Ryan coming back from the gym, after their morning workout, both sweaty and out of breath — Austin was litteraly huffing and puffing all the way to the kitchen table...

– “God! I'm hung... rrreee.” He let out an exhausted sigh. “Stick a tube down my throat and start pumping chocolate milk pudding until my poor stomach is the size of a beach ball!”

– “Come on, Austin...” Ryan patted his shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. “After you've burned so many calories? You're entitled to a full, five-course meal. You'll get all the pudding you want for desserts.”

– “But I'm so tired... I could barely lift the fork to my lips.”

Ryan didn't waste a moment to cook for his hungry dance partner. In a matter of minutes, Austin was sitting hunched over his plate and stuffing his face with both hands like a proud, greedy boy...

– “So...” Lou cleared his throat. “How is it going with your training? You guys ready for your song-and-dance number?”

– “Honestly, not bad!” Austin mumbled between two mouthfuls.

– “Honestly? not great.” Ryan corrected, with an honest look at Lou.

– “Well... which is it?”

– “Let's face it, we're not very good at this. We've focused our efforts on the dancing part so much that we haven't even decided what we're going to sing...”

– “You couldn't sing and dance?”

– “Wow! baby steps, Lou? I just told you, we're not good at this.”

Austin was ready for another plate of veal and chicken cordon-bleus — and a third one, with even more macaroni and grilled cheese.

– “Besides...” He smacked his lips. “We couldn't find a song that would keep us dancing for ten minutes, or dance music that would require singing. Ryan and I want to make a statement for those guys too.”

– “What kind of statement?”

– “Loud and clear...”

Chris turned to ask his cousin.

– “What kind of music are you going for?”

– “Classical music, but the good kind of classical music.”

– “Modern stuff... Stravinsky? The Rite of Spring?”

– “Close enough. Erwin Schulhoff, Ogelala.”

– “What's that?”

– “Ballet music from Germany after World War One, before things turned from nasty to the Nazis...”

– “We won't perform the whole thing. Just two or three numbers... That should be rough enough.”

– “What is it about?”

– “Human sacrifice in the Pre-Columbian Aztec Empire.”

– “Why are you guys going for a Mexican subject?”

– “I don't know... Thank them for inventing chocolate?”

– “Is this really tribal music?”

Austin and Ryan exchanged a look.

– “Pretty much. Lots of percussion instruments. The composer was from Prague. Openly gay, Jewish and with communist sympathies... Needless to say, he died in a prison camp during World War Two.”

– “Oh... Okay.”

Lou didn't know what to say. Chris looked appalled by all this.

– “Are you sure about this?”

– “We're slowly getting there with the choreography.”

– “I meant... your choice of music?”

– “What about it?”

– “I wasn't there when you guys got almost thrown out of the Roadkill roadhouse, but I get the picture... You're dealing with country bumpkins, wannabe cow-boys and wannabe bikers acting like hoods.”

– “That's pretty accurate, if you ask me.”

– “So...” Chris hesitated. “You're going full confrontational now?”

– “We can't go full frontal, so...”

Ryan cut to the chase.

– “So, what if we're stonewalling? Think Stonewall.”

Lou took Chris to the side.

– “Next thing you know, we can think stone cold...”

Ryan had more work to do. Lou told him that a new guy who would come for his photo shoot. The blonde guy only shrugged at the news.

– “If you put some effort into this and get it done right, I'll make it worth your while.”

– “I'll try... I'm only following the photographer's instructions.”

– “What would you do if Ryan's pictures turn out good?” Austin asked.

– “I'll join you on the stage at the Roadkill and sing for the crowd.”

– “You would do that?”

– “It's a promise.”

– “What would you sing for us?”

– “I don't know yet, but that will be some burden lifted for you.”

– “Okay...” Ryan smiled. “Let's say you have a deal!”

There was more seven layer chocolate cake for Austin to devour. As he kept going for it with a broad and greedy grin on his face, Lou felt like he had to talk some sense into him.

– “Austin?”

– “Hmmmph...”

– “Are you totally sure about doing this?”

– “Doing what? I'm only eating dessert. And it's delicious.”

– “I didn't mean this cake. I meant... your little show with Ryan.”

– “Oh?” Austin stifled a light burp. “That's no piece of cake, I agree.”

– “That was Ryan's idea, right?”

– “We've talked about it for some time. We're working on those moves together. I don't know if we can pull it off, but it would be silly to give up now... Okay, I guess you could say that he talked me into it.”

Chris nodded in agreement. He had the same doubts as Lou.

– “I know, Ryan is your friend. He's a good cook, and a good friend. He's good. He's kind. He's one of a kind...”

– “...But?”

– “When you guys get threatened like this, I have a hunch that Ryan will respond like a “Rainbow Warrior” kind of gay...”

– “A warrior?” Austin asked in disbelief.

– “A warrior...” Chris repeated like an echo.

– “Trust me, I know that type.”

– “You do...”

– “I'm Asian. If you think we have it easy in Korea, Japan or China, think again. And if you think it gets any easier for us in America, look into it...”

Austin slowly got up, with a loud and contented belch.

– “BUUUUUURRRRRRP... Well, guys! Time for me to take a nap.”

– “Sleep tight, cuz.”

– “This T-shirt feels tight enough...”

The bloated black young man stepped out of the kitchen, rubbing and patting his full belly. Chris leaned forward, over the kitchen table.

– “Are you sure about this? They could get in some real trouble?”

– “Austin will get in trouble... Your friend Ryan will cause trouble.”

– “I don't know...” Of course, Chris knew only too well about Ryan being trouble in his own way. “He's usually so quiet.”

– “Usually so still, sure! like Emily Dickinson's volcanoes.”

– “Oh... You know that poem.”

– “Sure do...”

Bear within — appalling Ordnance,

Fire, and smoke, and gun,

Taking Villages for breakfast,

And appalling Men —

Chris and Lou shook hands on it — but shuddered at the thought.

■ ■ ■

Wednesday night — Hawk's bedroom

– “I have to say, this workout thing you have going on with Ryan is doing a lot of good for your body...”

Hawk's initial doubts about Austin spending time at the gym had been squashed and forgotten with every night they got to spend together.

– “If you find this attractive, enjoy it while it lasts because I sure don't want to keep it going. As soon as this charade is over, I'm going back to my bad boy's lazy, greedy ways. Grow round and soft and doughy...”

– “Come on, it's not like you got trim or anything.”

– “Ryan makes me feel fit... I told him, I want to feel fat!”

– “You'll get there.”

– “Packing on muscle weight is not what I signed up for... I feel like he's tricked me into this.”

– “Well... about that whole charade?”

– “Yes?”

– “I've spoken to the owner of the Roadkill roadhouse. Tell me... What do you remember about that night with Ryan?”

– “Not much. It was a long and boring day. We kept going from places to places around town, introducing ourselves, telling people that the dingy old hotel they knew would soon turn into a better, more welcoming place with a special edge to it... We answered a few questions, we asked them what they thought about it, we left flyers and everything.”

– “Okay.”

– “Every time we visited a baker's shop, I got to eat a cookie or two. We grabbed a bite on our way, at a few diners and joints. I had a few beers and cocktails...”

– “So... by the time you came to the Roadkill, you were drunk.”

– “I wasn't that drunk. I just... don't remember everything precisely.”

– “According to the manager, you got caught up in a fight.”

– “I didn't get caught, or arrested...” Austin shrugged, going for another mini chocolate cupcake on top of Hawk's chest. “Ryan brought me home just fine.”

– “So he did.” Hawk almost growled. “Say, where is Mister Happy-Pants-with-No-Pants-On now, and what's he up to?”

– “What do you think? At this hour, he's cooking.”

– “Yeah...” Hawk was sipping on his second Lemon Drop Martini of the evening. “And I wonder what's cooking.”

Austin took the opportunity to kiss him on the lips, for the perfect mix of lemon, liquor and chocolate.

– “It's been a long and boring day for everyone.”

– “More farmers to visit?”

– “Lou has met a few more, and everything's looking up. He knows how to talk to them now, and they sound interested in the business he wants to start.”

– “And Ryan was still playing fetch with the local farmhands?”

– “I don't know... Maybe. He has to get back for those photo shoots.”

– “How's that going?”

– “Still bad. We're down to our fifth photographer. In a week.”

– “It's like he's wearing them out. Going through them like Kleenex. Are you absolutely sure that he's only “posing” for those guys?”

– “Please!” Austin just laughed at the thought. “If he did anything more than stand in front of them and look at the camera, they wouldn't sound so frustrated when they quit...”

– “Good point. How about your cousin, Chris?”

– “He has spent some time on the phone with Insurance companies. And someone from the Fire Department should pay us a visit soon.”

– “Hart?”

– “Whose heart?”

– “Hart Hanson. He's the captain. I knew him in High School.”

– “Good guy?”

– “Just the best.” Hawk paused. “He should be no problem, but... have you heard something from the Mayor's office?”

– “That... Cockroach guy?”

– “Cochrane. Richard N. Cochrane.”

– “I have no idea...”

– “You guys should really be careful.”

– “What's wrong with this guy?”

– “At the moment, his poll numbers are... mostly okay, but not what he feels like they should be. Even if he ends up winning the race, he's such a sore loser that he will take it badly.”

– “Okay, so the guy really is a Dick.”

– “You could say that again... His most recent stroke of genius is one of those Moral Purity campaign. All-out war on drugs...”

– “...and open season on gays.”

– “Yup...”

Hawk crossed his arms behind his head, under the pillows. Austin was chewing down the last cupcake. He stretched himself out and hugged his boyfriend like a tree.

– “Did you also know him in High school?”

– “Mayor Cochrane? I've known him long enough...”

– “No classmates, then.”

– “Nope.”

Austin thought about it for a moment.

– “Does he know about you?”

Hawk felt the sting in that particular question.

– “He doesn't know about us... Honestly, there's no need for him to know about you and me. He wouldn't understand.”

– “Mayor Cochrane may not understand. From what I've heard, he would make it a point to stand against what we have. But people a bit more open-minded... how do you expect them to understand what they don't get to know?”

– “Are we playing riddles now?”

– “You tell me...”

Austin hugged his big bear of a boyfriend — tight.

– “You know how it goes, Hawk. When you're done ironing and folding all your underwear, it barely fits inside the drawer.”

– “Yes?”

– “At some point, I'll be too fat to stay in the closet...”

■ ■ ■

Saturday afternoon — Lou's office, at the Pleasure Dome hotel resort

– “That's it. I've had it!”

Lou was exasperated. The new guy they had hired to take pictures with Ryan in the kitchen had just quit — that was their ninth photographer in two weeks, and he had pretty much banged the door on his way out...

– “Okay...” He made the call. “Guys? Everyone in my office, now.”

It looked like Ryan had a lot of explaining to do.

– “It's like you don't even want to do it.”

– “I didn't want to do it, at first, but when you told me how important it was, I thought I should at least do it right.”

– “And that's how eight professional photographers gave up on us.”

– “They didn't want to do it right.”

– “I don't get it.”

– “Take a look at the pictures that last guy took today.”

Lou had not seen any of the previous pictures... They were always torn to shreds by the end of the session.

Chris and Austin came to his side of the desk, and sat next to him to take a look. There were three or four dozen pictures of Ryan striking one pose after another, shirtless and looking like he was cooking something.

In every picture, Ryan was winking at the camera and his smile didn't feel quite natural. They couldn't deny that these were all bad.

– “Okay, I guess you could do better...”

– “Why are you tilting your head like that?”

– “That's what they kept telling me to do...”

Ryan stood straight in front of them, but looking down and fumbling with his tight T-shirt. If they didn't feel comfortable about these pictures, he was downright embarrased with them.

– “Okay, Ryan... You tell us.”

– “For one thing, they kept telling me to look slutty...”

His friends found a way not to comment on it.

– “All the pictures they took look the same. And the photo shoots went on an on, just the same... “There you go! look straight into the lens and look like a slutty cook”. And “Now, look like a slutty waiter with that tray of hors-d'œuvres”. Or “This camera is hot for you! Go for it like a slutty nurse”. I got sick of it, and I had to play along for hours, every time.”

– “Okay... I can see that.”

– “I'm not even sure that they knew what they wanted.”

– “How so?”

– “I guess I could play a “slutty cook”, for a moment. Or a “slutty nurse”. Or...”

– “You could. No doubt about it.”

Austin, Chris and Lou looked away and caughed for some reason.

– “At some point, it felt like they wanted me to act like a “slutty slut”. I didn't get it. I couldn't follow them down that path.”

– “And why are you always winking?”

– “Oh...” Ryan had not blushed yet, but this looked actually painful for him. “Again, they asked me to only keep one eye opened.”

– “Why?”

– “Isn't that obvious? Anyone who would see the pictures could think I have green eyes. Or blue eyes, if I close my right eye. But not both. Nuh huh. That would be... disturbing.”

– “Disturbing?”

Ryan didn't dwell on it. Chris and Austin nodded. Lou was beginning to feel sorry for their dumb blonde friend.

– “Did they tell you something about the way you look?”

– “Not in so many words. But their instructions were clear enough. And they all behaved in the same professional, careless manner.”

– “I see.”

– “Only half of them asked me if I couldn't get my hair cut.”

– “Oh...”

– “Pardon my French, but this whole idea's fucked up all the way down.”

– “What's wrong about it?”

– “Let me ask you a question, Lou. Why did you pick me for this?”

Chris, Lou and Austin exchanged a puzzled look.

– “We thought...”

– “I don't know.”

– “I don't remember, exactly.”

– “I'm sorry, guys...” Ryan took a deep breath. “I know you took a vote, and I really didn't want to question your decision but, the way I see it, you took the easy way out. Asking me to be your “poster boy”? A white dude in his mid-twenties... with blonde hair, facial hair and chest hair... looking reasonably fit, and sharp like a loaf of soaked bread? That's lazy. You should know better.”

– “Fair enough.”

– “Why didn't you vote for Austin, for instance? He's our perfect Patient Zero, with everything he's eating and the way he keeps growing.”

– “Well...”

Austin agreed. Ryan had a point. For a split second, he understood why it was so important for his friend to train for their dance number, to show those bullies at the roadhouse that they wouldn't back down. It came back to him at last. A few guys at the bar had been mean to him — and calling him “colored” was just the first step in their drunken slur. He was in no condition to fight, but Ryan had jumped right off the stage when someone had grabbed him by the collar. He had thrown the first punch, then he had to knock everyone down on their way out, and back to the car... He had come back to bed scot-free, but he felt an ice-cold shiver running down his spine right now.

– “That was a lazy decision on our part...” He coolly observed.

As he looked straight into Ryan's eyes, the blonde guy felt encouraged to go on and defend his take on their communication strategy.

– “This isn't a “Me” project... It's meant to be an “Us” project. If Austin had been chosen to represent us all, someone would have commented that “Sure! they must be really well-fed on chocolate! look at this good-looking, plump boy”... Next thing you know, racist dweebs will suggest that we give our customers an “Afro sheen” as we feed them. How soon do you expect their homophobic hunting buddies to claim that we “turn everyone gay”, and the Pleasure Dome is just a tacky, tawdry brothel or a den for all the “bad” people they want to burn at the stake?”

Lou took the pictures on his desk and tore them down, one by one.

– “Okay, Ryan... Our next photo shoot will be for group pictures.”

Ryan looked up gratefully. Chris and Austin were ready to hug Lou.

– “It won't be easy, but we shoudn't go for what's just “easy”... What we want to do isn't for everyone, in any case. If we have to pander to the standards of what society considers “acceptable” today, we may give up on our dream right away. We'll have to come up with a set of pretty clear rules before we re-open this place. If a customer starts making racist, offensive comments, he's out... And there will be no refund. If he only comes by to poke fun at a bunch of sissies running a hotel, we'll serve him something his bank account will remember for the rest of his life.”

– “Sounds fair.”

– “We can always communicate as a “straight-friendly” hotel resort...”

Lou was thinking about it. They could see the cogs turning in his head.

– “That's it. We go for it like this... Are you boys ready with your dance?”

– “Huh... Not quite, but we've trained for it all morning.”

Chris looked a bit concerned.

– “Aren't you guys supposed to go to the Roadkill roadhouse tonight?”

– “Yeah...”

Ryan and Austin looked a bit uneasy about their commitment.

– “I'll help you with the lights. I used to run tech and stage-manage for most of our musicals in College. Besides, I want to see what you came up with... Who knows? with good lighting and shadows, you'll feel more comfortable with your act or people won't notice that you suck so much.”

– “Thanks, Chris.”

– “Don't thank me. You have some time left to rehearse. And train.”

– “What, more training?” Austin complained.

– “That's right! Whenever you feel like you've trained “hard enough”, you go back to the mat and train harder.”

– “We'll give it our best.”

Lou asked them how they had planned to get anounced on stage.

– “Ryan had an idea. Of some sort.”

– “Okay...”

Chris and Lou felt like they should be holding hands. They never knew what to expect with their blonde friend's suggestions. Maybe they would get used to it, at some point in the future...

– “We thought we could be the Voice of GOD.”

– “The voice of... God?”

– “That's right!” Austin smiled from ear to ear.

– “We're Gay, we're Out and we're Diverse... Deal with it, World!”

■ ■ ■

Saturday night — at the Roadkill roadhouse and steakhouse

Chris found the place pretty much as he expected it. The stage in the back of the Roadkill roadhouse was just large enough for what they had rehearsed. That was something... The people on the floor were the usual mix of uncouth local yokels, truckers and bikers, coming and going with a large beer, throwing darts or playing pool. He had spotted a few guys in cowboy hats and bolo ties, swaggering and flirting shamelessly.

As a matter of fact, he had already been hit on twice, now that he was done setting spots around the stage — and with the same pick-up line.

– “Howdy, handsome? Name's Rusty...”

– “...So's your act. Give it a rest, Mack!”

He went backstage to check on his friends. Austin looked hungry.

– “I don't want to go...”

– “Stage fright is fine, Austin. You're ready now.”

Ryan was there to help him shake it off, with a bear hug.

– “We've been over this.”

– “Nuh huh! Not yet...”

– “Come on, you're not alone. We do this together. You'll be fine.”

– “Well... maybe.”

– “Think about it. This is our moment. We may not have so much fun if we did it a second time. You and I should make the most of it!”

– “Okay... Okay, I'll be brave.”

– “And proud! The narrower the path, the broader the smile...”

There was a public announcement. Austin looked up to Ryan. From the jeering and sneering sounds they heard, the boys were well aware that people were waiting for them to get on stage like a pack of wolves would be waiting to be thrown a piece of red meat.

Schädeltanz [Skull dance] —

The stage and the whole room were in the dark... A pencil thin ray of light was projected on a fake white skull, decorated with black and red lines, then on Austin lying next to it and wearing next to nothing besides leather underpants and a pair of sneakers. He held the skull in his hand and started playing with it, as the music was reduced to percussions like xylophone, castanets and wood-blocks. Moving slowly, attentive to their beat and obsessive melodic line, he acted a bit lazy but very sensual.

Ryan must have spent hours on preparing and decorating this Alfeñique prop like a traditional sugar skull from the Mexican Día de los Muertos.

He was standing right behind Austin, only hidden by the mask and costume he had to wear for their first number. It was made of coarse black felt, which made him just as invisible as if he had been part of the stage curtains. With long sleeves and gloves of the same dark cloth, he operated a marionette snake that appeared as if he was crawling on top of Austin's belly. This caused him to sit up and get to his feet. The snake was made of a dozen marshmallows, decorated with gold-colored candy leaves meant to imitate feathers and laced together with a transparent cord like fishing line. Ryan pulled the strings to make it move and give it some striking and mysterious presence.

As he started dancing with the snake, only standing on his knees and pushing his belly out, Austin took a pocket knife from his leather undies and cut the last marshmallow from the tail. He brought it to the skull in his hand, as if it would gnaw that piece of the wounded snake — then swiftly to his mouth... In a matter of minutes, the fat boy fought against the angry-looking snake and took greedy bites of marshmallow — until there was only its head on the stage... By the end of that dance, Austin was devouring it and rubbing his stomach with a smile on his face.

Siegestanz [Victory dance] —

Suddenly, Ryan appeared behind Austin. All he had to do was to throw his gloves away and pull his black robe down: the thick felt wasn't sewn but held together with black velcro. It was a well-rehearsed transition... As the music got much louder and more aggressive, a collective gasp of surprise washed through the crowd.

Ryan was just so scantily clad as his partner, but he was barefoot. It allowed him to stomp and jump on the stage, pouncing like a tiger on fire and bouncing like a wild bear... Chris couldn't take his eyes off him: it was a truly impressive display of raw energy. Austin and Ryan started dancing together, like brothers from different savage tribes — so their dance quickly turned into a fight to the Death... The boys had really put some work into that number, so coordinated in all their moves that the slaps to the face, the various blows and punches all over their chests felt real for everyone around them. And the pacing was quickened as Ryan turned around Austin, looking so predatory and fierce — until they both froze when the music reached a moment of tense, breathless silence...

Waffentanz [Weapon dance] —

The plucked strings and percussions came back with a vengeance, and soon the whole orchestra sounded like a storm. Austin still had the sugar skull in one hand but he threw his knife out of the stage when people wouldn't notice. Ryan pulled two large, fake butcher knives from his back pockets — so they were both ready for an even more convincing, vicious fight... The music inspired such relentless, unbound physical violence.

At this point of their dance, Austin could barely keep going... He was obviously too chubby for such an exhausting showstopper — and no one could blame him for it, after he had eaten his marshmallows so quickly. On the other hand, it looked like Ryan was about to go berserk... They were both drenched in sweat when they started playing with their new props — those long knives, filled with fake blood, were designed to leave convincing gashes on their skin when the boys would exchange blows to wound or kill each other. It turned into a whirlwind of sweat and blood.

Ryan's moves were so quick, he hopped and pounced on Austin like a vampire gone mad in his lust for blood... The fat boy fought back with remarkable agility, in a desperate attempt to kill the ferocious beast that kept baiting him so relentlessly... They were both surprinsingly sprightly, nimble-footed and limber. Everyone's eyes were on them.

Once again, it required iron nerves, synchronized breathing and mutual trust in the precise choreography. Ryan's explosive display of alpha male menace, next to Austin's desperate attempts to fight back or find a way out, left every man and woman in the diner gaping in shock. By the end of their dance, all the lights turned red — darker than a photographer's dark room... The atmosphere got so oppressive, Chris wondered if some people weren't suffocating. Austin rested his back on Ryan's chest, both covered with lines and drops of “blood”. The blonde beast threw his knife away to slowly, gently cup Austin's face with his paw — when everyone in the room expected him to slit his throat — and when Chris thought that maybe they would kiss in front of everyone, Ryan took the sugar skull from Austin and fed him while the fat boy started rubbing his belly with both hands... There was a moment of pure silence and their dance with the strangest bear hug and four hands rubbing Austin's round gut.

Behind him, holding him in his arms, Ryan looked cuddly but protective — more dangerously so than a mighty dragon in his cave, guarding a mythical treasure! While Austin was smiling with his eyes closed, he shot one look at the audience when the lights went back to white, and the message was clearer than lightning. If anyone even tried to bully Austin ever again, they wouldn't just be “dead”: whatever may be left of them wouldn't be enough to prove that they existed in the first place...

Chris could swear that the bikers, who had not moved an inch for the almost ten minutes of “sissy ballet dancing”, heaved a collective sigh of relief when Ryan's attitude went back to normal and the boys held hands to bow before the crowd... The roar and applause they got was honestly well-deserved. They had won their bet, fair and square. Austin felt proud about it. He looked quite confident that he could walk among the crowd without feeling threatened. Ryan just smiled. People around them smiled too — and kept their distance.

They had to clean up to wipe out all the fake blood, of course... A few minutes later, they were back and ready for more genial entertainment.

Austin was wearing his regular gym shorts and sneakers. As for Ryan, Chris had asked him to look at least “decent”, with brown leather shorts and a matching Stetson hat. And shoes, for a change.

Lou had already taken hold of the mic, and Chris started the karaoke machine with the accompaniment soundtrack of “Ain't No Stopping Us Now”, by McFadden & Whitehead.

– “Ain't no stopping us now!

We're on the move!”

It felt like the crowd was waking up from a bad dream... They started singing along and clapping their hands with the music. Austin and Ryan moved around the dance poles so much more quietly.

– “Ain't no stopping us now!

We've got the groove!”

At that point in the game, the bikers who had sworn to break every knuckle in Austin's and Ryan's hands had to throw in the towel for good. One after the other, they joined the growing crowd who had a genuinely good time on the dance floor, following Lou as he sang like a professional entertainer.

– “There's been so many things

that's held us down.

But now, it looks like things

are finally comin' around.”

– “I know we've got a long way to go

and where we'll end up, I don't know.

But we won't let nothin' hold us back,

we're putting ourselves together.

We're polishing our act.”

The atmosphere in the roadhouse felt completely different. The air they breathed was fresh... Following such a tense show of hateful violence, wild self-destruction and self-preservation, this gentle gay song worked like a charm, like a welcome breeze after the storm.

– “If you felt we've been held down before,

I know you'll refuse to

be held down anymore!

Don't you let nothing, nothing

stand in your way!”

When Lou was done with his song, there was another unanimous round of applause in the Roadkill roadhouse. The boys were greeted with more roaring cheers and thunderous applause coming from every corner...

■ ■ ■

Monday morning — in the lobby, at the Pleasure Dome hotel resort

Austin didn't wake up until 3PM on Sunday, and he refused to get out of bed. He was still sore from all that dancing, jumping and turning around like swirls on the stage. Every muscle in his back, lower back, thighs and legs ached so much he could barely move... Ryan agreed to come to his bedroom and feed him breakfast, then he had to massage his calves, his ankles and his feet while Austin ate some more.

– “How's everything going, downstairs?”

– “We should be fine... Lou has received like a dozen phone calls from people who praised his performance. He could make some good money with his singing.”

– “How about us?”

– “I guess we survived that ordeal.”

– “No comments about it?”

– “I guess Lou has been screening those calls, so he wouldn't hurt our feelings. Let's just say we're lucky that we didn't get sued for what you and I did.”

– “Okay...”

Ryan cleared his voice.

– “There's something else I should tell you. I've been meaning to tell you for some time now, but...”

– “What is it?”

– “You remember about that first night at the Roadkill.”

– “I think I do... I've come to the conclusion that I was really drunk.”

– “Yup..” Ryan blushed. “About that... Chris and Lou keep giving me that look. I can only imagine how Hawk would scold me. They don't like that I let you drink... the way you do.”

– “How? It's not like you make me drink.”

– “The way everyone sees it, I'm driving you to those bars.”

– “Of course! They wouldn't like it if I was arrested for DUI...”

Austin sat up on bed.

– “Are they giving you a hard time with this?”

– “Not really. What I wanted to tell you is... There's a reason why I drive and don't drink when we go bar hopping.”

– “You've already told me. You couldn't do both.”

– “The thing is, when it comes to hard liquor... I'm a lightweight.”

– “No shit.”

– “I swear, it's true. Two shooters of Jack Daniels, and I wake up in some frat house dorm with both Jack and Daniel...”

– “Then I should make sure that you never drink along with me?”

– “I think it would be safer for everyone if I didn't.”

They smiled at each other, and shook hands on it.

– “It will be our little secret...”

When Ryan climbed down the stairs, he found a rather large group of local officials in the main hall — or, if they weren't officials, they certainly looked the type: short, stout, old and wilted white men in dark suits.

Chris was there to welcome them and face the music.

– “Richard Nelson Cochrane.”

– “Sir...”

The guy looked familiar — and he acted just the same... His manners were more vulgar than expected. Lou, Chris and Ryan had seen his face on posters around Pleasance, but they had never heard the sound of his voice, hoarse and coarse as it was. No surprise there.

– “I've heard a few things about you boys.”

– “All true, one can hope...”

– “A few months ago, I had it on good authority that this place was about to close down. The way I see it now, it's hard to tell. What kind of business are you running down here?”

– “The hotel is closed at the moment, so we can get some work done... but we'll be back and running in a few months.”

– “Still in the hotel business?”

– “I will let our associate manager Lou give you a full presentation.”

– “No need, really. We just wanted to make sure that...”

Chris didn't miss the kind of sideways looks they threw at Ryan and him.

– “...You boys weren't getting into any funny business.”

– “Rest assured. We're dead set, and serious about it.”

– “You sound dead serious too.... Chris, is it?”

– “That's me.”

– “You folks are American?”

– “As a matter of fact, we are.”

– “You're just not from around here. You come here with your youngsters' dreams and ideas, and your half-baked projects...”

Ryan interrupted him, so politely as he could.

– “Sir, I assure you that none of the food I serve is half-baked.”

Mayor Cochrane was still struck. His face suddenly flushed with anger.

– “Okay! no more fooling around... Didn't you and a friend of yours do some ungodly, perverse dance number like crazy apes in front of decent, innocent people at a local roadhouse?”

– “There was nothing perverse or ungodly about it.”

– “And if it was, the people who saw it welcomed it with a warm round of applause, so they didn't feel any less decent or innocent.”

Chris could see Mayor Cochrane's cronies going pasty behind him.

– “You should have been arrested for this. That was indecent exposure... Plain and simple. I'll make sure that you get arrested, next time!”

– “That's funny...” Chris chuckled. “We weren't quite sure that we should go for it again. Then, according to you, maybe we should?”

Obviously, Mayor Cochrane wasn't used to anyone talking back to him like this. It may have blown off a gasket somewhere inside his head... Chris could consider it as the next best thing to a slap in his face.

– “Why wait?” He said, gritting his teeth. “I could get you arrested now.”

– “And we could have you thrown out for making threats like this, when you are already trespassing on our property.”

– “Your property?”

– “That's right. You should know better. We happen to own this place, and such a large stretch of land around it that we have already found an agreement with local farmers and workers. People who may or may not vote for you, but sure as Hellfire work for us... And they may not be too pleased with your attitude either.”

– “They... work for you?”

– “All their contracts have been signed. If you force us to leave, you will put more than two hundred people out of their jobs, out of their homes and in the street. I'm curious to find out how you deal with them... and the Press.”

– “The Press?”

– “You know... Press charges.”

– “What are you boys talking about?”

Ryan looked genuinely worried that Chris was about to start a fight. He turned to him — then their eyes met, and he was in full soldier mode. If their opponent was foolish enough to bait them, they were ready to fight back and unleash the dogs of war.

– “What did you really come to tell us, Mr Cochrane?”

The crimson guy was holding his hat with fidgeting fingers.

– “You boys are more pink than nail polish!”

– “Sir...” Chris grinned. “With all due respect, we come in all colours and shades of the rainbow.”

– “So, there you have it... We're gay.” Ryan joined in, holding hands with Chris. “We're just so decent and innocent as your other constituents. The Law may ignore us, but we're honest workers, tax payers and concerned citizens.”

– “And we're actually concerned with your speech and manners.”

– “Maybe more people ought to know about this attitude?”

– “More to the point, a candidate named “Richard N. Cochrane” should probably not play the anti-gay trump card so carelessly... I mean, Dick?”

– “Dick N. Cochrane. That's right...”

– “What if we started spreading the word that “Dick & Cock Reign”? No need for pink paint or polish... This could be a lot of fun!”

Chris and Ryan laughed out loud. The old goons who stood before them looked undone — or overdone, like a mass of sticky, mushy pasta. Mayor Cochrane rushed to the door without another word.

It still meant war, and they knew what would be at stakes.

– “Just so messy as I thought it would get. That guy is a real number.”

– “I agree... Dangerous, no doubt.”

– “So what if he is? Then we're deadly!”

Ryan felt like he should kiss his friend on the lips for it.

The door bell rang, almost on cue.

– “Right... Lou and I have an appointment.”

– “Who is it?”

– “The captain from the Fire Department in Pleasance.”

– “Captain Hanson? A few minutes earlier, he may have seen flames coming out of the ears of his mayor...”

– “Do you know this guy?”

– “A little...” Ryan blushed. “I may have helped the Fire Department do a few drills and safety exercices at our local hospital.”

– “Fire drills, huh...”

Chris pinched his friend's cheek. Leave it to Ryan to be drilling for fire.

Captain Hanson was a fine man, in his early forties — Chris was willing to believe that Pleasance bred a certain type of man: tall, dark, strong, thick and stoic, broad-shouldered like a lumberjack, with a beard like a bush of brambles, a hairy chest and paws where his hands should be.

After a short tour on the hotel's grounds, Chris invited him in Lou's office, where they gave him a thorough presentation of their project and asked him how they could bring their future accomodations up to Code.

All in all, they spent a pleasant afternoon with a professional, open-minded man who never questioned the value or the practicalities of their business.

When it was time for a cup of coffee, Captain Hanson mentioned that he had seen the whole City council leaving with Mayor Cochrane looking furious. It was only natural for him to feel concerned.

– “Did you have an argument or something?”

– “What happened with the mayor?” Lou asked his friend.

– “He didn't pay us what you would call a friendly visit.”

– “He's working on his reelection.”

– “There was politics involved, for sure. But nothing I could stand for.”

Captain Hanson gave them a word of advice.

– “If you're on Mayor Cochrane's black list, you guys will need all the help you can get...” The captain turned his head to take a better look at Ryan. “But you should get all the help you might need.”

Their blonde cook had just stepped into the office with a tray of cakes, mugs and a large pot of coffee in his hands.

– “Do you mean to say that...” Chris cautiously asked. “If we found ourselves at odds with the people in charge in Pleasance, we could count on your support?”

– “I'm running the Fire Department. It should be simple enough. My job is to prevent fire when we can be there in time, and keep it from spreading when it's too late.”

– “Okay...”

– “I like to think that it's never too late.”

Captain Hanson looked straight at Chris and Lou.

– “And I feel like a few more things shouldn't spread... Like fear.”

When he was about to leave, after a few words of encouragement and shaking hands with Chris in the main hall, captain Hanson turned to Ryan who was holding the door for him. He came close enough to almost kiss him on the cheek as he whispered to him, with a smile.

– “You stay on fire, bad boy...”

■ ■ ■

Monday evening — in the kitchen

Lou was exhausted... He felt like going to bed a bit earlier than usual, right after dinner. Ryan found himself alone in the kitchen with his daily pile of dirty dishes next to the sink.

It was almost 11PM. Chris was also tired, but fired up as well. Standing his ground and calling off Mayor Cochrane's bluff made him feel rather proud, for some reason... He had met more than his share of politicians, in his parents' social circles, but he had never confronted any of them — not like this, and not for a good reason like this.

– “It does feel good to blow off some steam, right?”

Ryan was still up, washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen.

– “Best feeling in the world, honestly.”

– “I have to say... You did really well under fire.”

– “We both did pretty well.”

– “I can only imagine what these old geezers are calling us, right now... Certainly not “well” or “pretty”, after what we've put them through.”

– “Proof that they wouldn't know “pretty” if it hit them in the face.”

Chris couldn't care less. In hindsight, he felt like he should thank Ryan for his weird, radical choice of dance and music with Austin. They may have made a splash for all the wrong reasons — but they had made a statement and that was the right thing to do.

– “You know... I haven't told you about your dance.”

– “Was it really that bad?”

– “I don't know... When the people who tell you that it was awful turn out to be more awful than anything you know, it makes you think twice about it. All I could say is... It took some guts.”

– “Thank Austin for that. It took one big gut to pull it off.”

– “That's true...” Chris came to the counter. “Nevertheless, that dance fight was quite something.”

– “We have you to thank for it too. You were right. With red light and everything, it didn't look so fake.”

– “Trust me on this, it felt real... Like the real good stuff.”

Ryan looked up from his full sink of soapy dishes.

– “What do you mean?”

– “I don't know professional ballet. I don't know how professional dancers do it to make everything look real and feel right. Maybe they can fake it.”

– “I wouldn't be so surprised if they did.”

– “But you don't.”

– “I'm not a professional dancer.”

– “You're not a fake. That's what I meant.”

Chris wouldn't look away, and Ryan didn't look down... The world kept turning around them, slowly. They didn't say a word for a moment.

Ryan broke the silence so softly as he could. It took some courage too.

– “I figured... Austin needed that kind of experience.”

– “And he has every reason to be proud of it, now.”

– “I hope it makes him smile when he thinks back on it.”

– “How about you? Would you rather forget about it?”

Ryan shrugged, washing his hands with a large towel.

– “You know I'm no shrinking violet.”

– “No... You're not.”

Chris couldn't help thinking that his dumb blonde friend was a lot more like an “expanding banana”.

– “Did we do something terrible or something good? I can't tell.”

– “We were just fooling around. Can you really blame us? If we're going for all-out war to save our lives, this may prove to be our last moment of harmless, innocent fun.”

– “Right...”

Ryan slowly turned around the kitchen counter and held his friend from behind, in a gentle bear hug... Chris closed his eyes, leaned back and rested his head on his shoulder.

– “You know... We've also done some some good work around here.”

– “Okay.”

– “The way this is going, in a couple of weeks...”

– “Yes?”

– “We should be ready for the inauguration of the Pleasure Dome.”

■ ■ ■

Acknowledgements : Austin's and Ryan's choice of music for their dance number is one of the most violent classical ballet music — on one of the most violent subjects for a ballet. Human sacrifice between rival tribes at war in Aztec/Mexica territories, with explicit gay overtones.

Link to Schädeltanz: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GvKc2gYI1B0

Link to Siegestanz: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-d9qGLUEpc

Link to Waffentanz: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ha4i-7CQA6M

Lou's choice for a song feels a lot more genial, then. Ain't No Stopping Us Now by McFadden & Whitehead, which was suggested by a friend — I can't thank him enough for it.

Link to the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZEWkZb11pss

Frenchfeeder's Library

Wednesday, October 30, 2024

Welcome / Bienvenue

Around the Pleasure Dome — season 1, episode 3 "Fooling around" —