"Queer Identities" -- Chapter 100 "Impotent"
Back to L.A. -- and a few new twists...
This is Chapter 100 in the "Queer Identities" series.
The narrator is Justin Taylor, and features Brian Kinney, Jennifer Taylor, Molly Taylor, Jimmy Hardy, Avi Massarsky, Others.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Back home, back to reality. Los Angeles, February 2004.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. This is for fun, not profit. Enjoy.
Earlier "QI" chapters online and on the LJ are here:
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaelmcgear/Gaedhalficpage.html
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaedhal/
Most recent "QI" chapters on the LJ are here:
Ch. 97 "When My Boy Walks Down the Street"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/440368.html
Ch. 98 "Maybe I'm Amazed"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/441326.html
Ch. 99 "I Will Survive"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/441469.html
By Gaedhal
I feel impotent.
Not literally, of course. But about Brian. And about my mother. And about... so many things.
I should be celebrating. After all, it's my fucking honeymoon!
Well, not exactly. We had one weekend that was kind of like a honeymoon -- if you count your mother and sister and Jimmy Hardy as part of the honeymoon party.
Brian promised that we're going on a real honeymoon right after the Oscars. He's already arranged it. A very private, very exclusive resort in Jamaica. Apparently all the movie stars and rock stars and members of the Royal Family go there. Dorian suggested it.
I'm hoping it'll be the place where Brian gets his mojo back. His treatment will be long over by then and we'll have time to ourselves. No worries -- 'Hakuna Matata' and all that. What could be better?
But in the meanwhile...
Impotent.
Goddamn this feeling!
"Honey... I hate to mention it..." Mom begins.
Then why mention it? Don't you think it's pretty obvious?
"But is Brian all right?" she continues.
"He has cancer, Mom. He had to go for radiation this morning and now he feels like shit. What do you think?"
I know I sound like a brat, but it just gets to me.
Sunday evening Brian and I went to dinner at Fleur de Lys, this really romantic place in San Francisco. Brian was in a great mood, we had another amazing dinner, and Brian even ate most of his. Mom and Molly went out with Jimmy. He took them to some place in Chinatown and they got fawned over by everyone. Mom loved it. Afterwards we all met up back at the hotel and the limo drove us to the airport, where we flew back to L.A. on Jimmy's private jet. Mom loved that, too.
"But he seems... sicker today," she says. "Wasn't he supposed to do something this afternoon at the studio for his movie?"
"He was scheduled to loop some dialogue for 'Red Shirt', but he had to cancel. He can do it another time, Mom."
"But..."
"Mom, just give it a fucking rest, okay?"
Yes, Brian seems sicker today. But he missed his treatment on Friday and then was off for another two days. The radiation is just hitting him extra hard. Tomorrow he'll probably be better. I hope.
"I'm sorry, darling," she says. "I'm just concerned."
"I know. I hate to be such a bitch. Why don't you and Molly go shopping? Avi can drive you."
She hesitates. "Yes... that would be nice. If it isn't too much trouble for your friend. I'm sure Molly would like that."
"It's Avi's job, Mom. He'll be glad to do it."
And I'll be glad to get you out of my hair for a couple of hours.
It's not that I don't love my mother and sister, because I do. But having them in the house while Brian is sick... I didn't think it would be so stressful. I didn't think she'd be driving me so crazy about Brian's health, or that Molly would be driving me crazy about being bored. Or that Mom would get into an argument with Carmel about cooking dinner. Or... I mean, it's just little stuff, but little stuff gets blown all out of proportion when it's your mother.
Brian is lying in bed, the shades drawn, his arm over his eyes. "Are they gone yet?"
"I sent them out with Avi to Rodeo Drive."
Brian sighs. "This isn't the best time to have company."
"I know," I say. "And I'm sorry. But she means well. She's worried about you."
"You mean she's worried about you and how you're dealing with me. The famous queer wedding was one thing, but today her baby boy being married probably looks like a big fucking mistake."
"It's not a mistake," I assert.
"Repeat that statement after another two weeks of this fucking shit."
"Two weeks is nothing," I tell him. "You once told me you could do four weeks of anything standing on your head."
Brian winces. "Tell my head that. And my stomach." He lifts the covers and glances at his dick. "And tell my dick. He thinks he doesn't belong to the rest of me anymore."
"He belongs. He's just taking a vacation." I slide an arm around Brian's shoulders. "And speaking of vacations... the travel agent sent over those brochures of the resort in Jamaica. It looks amazing!"
"Dorian says it's beyond amazing. It's Ian Fleming's old estate, so you can sit on the beach, drink rum, and pretend you're James Bond."
"Then I'd be drinking a martini -- shaken, not stirred."
"Rum is better for the beach," Brian advises. "But you can have a martini in the evening when we check out the night life. We'll have to pack our dinner jackets for the casino."
I make a face. "I don't like gin. It tastes like bug spray."
"Then have a vodka martini. That's what Bond would do."
I stretch languidly. "I think margaritas are more my speed. They don't make me hung over."
"Just wait, twat," Brian sniffs. "You drink enough of anything and you'll feel it -- eventually. But I can at least get drunk vicariously through you."
He looks a little green, but not as bad as he looked this morning after the deadly rays. We barely made it back to the house before he started throwing up. And -- of course! -- my mother was right there to witness the whole thing. That's when she really started to freak out. I mean, Brian was feeling tired and crappy Friday night and Saturday afternoon, but then for our dinner at Farallon and again on Sunday he was pretty much back to normal. Outwardly, that is.
"I don't think I've thanked you enough for the weekend," I say. "Seriously, it was wonderful. Everything."
"Except my dick," he replies. There's no self-pity in his voice, or irony. It's just a statement of fact.
"Be patient, okay? Things will work out."
"The eternal optimist." He closes his eyes.
"Not always," I remind him. "That's what you may remember, but I've had my moments when I was ready to give up. Think about after I was bashed..."
"You didn't give up!" he huffs. "You only tried harder. I know -- I was there."
"I know," I echo. "You were there." I suddenly feel safe in his arms. Like everything really will work out okay. Like I always did know it would. "You never let me get away with anything. And you never let me give up."
"I didn't do squat. No one can tell you what to do and that's a fact. The pitbull, remember?"
"Except get married," I mention.
"That was your idea, too," he insists. "You must have been whispering it in my ear for years while I was sleeping. Subliminal seduction, they call it in advertising. I'd never have gotten the idea by myself."
"Keep telling yourself that."
I roll Brian over and rub his shoulders and back. This is my new favorite thing to do and he seems to love it, too. If we can't always have sex, this is the next best thing. Touching. Skin on skin. It relaxes Brian, but it also relaxes me, too. It makes me feel like I'm doing something to help him. It makes me feel less impotent.
"So this is what married life is like -- domestic bliss. Plus, the mother-in-law staying in the guest room."
"And the sister-in-law."
"Her, too." Brian opens his eyes and looks at me. I love his eyes, especially the flecks of gold in the greenish iris. Every time I look at them they're different. Sometimes dark and brooding, other times sexy and smoldering. And then sad and far-away. "Maybe if Avi doesn't have anything else to do, he can take them to Disneyland tomorrow."
That makes me perk up. "Disneyland? I've never been to Disneyland!"
"Then you should go, too. It'll give you some quality time with your mom and sister. And you can bring me back one of those stupid hats with the ears."
I laugh at the picture. "If I do, I'll make you wear it!"
He yawns. He's fucking exhausted and all he's done is sleep all day. The tech at the radiation center said Dr. Sun should check him for a low white blood cell count. She said that could be making him extra tired.
"Yeah, me in a hat." Brian nestles his face in the pillow. "Like that would ever happen. I fucking hate hats."
"I know," I say. "That's what would make it so great."
***
We are just getting ready to leave for Disneyland when a guest shows up -- unannounced and uninvited, as usual.
"Jimmy, we're leaving in five minutes. What do you want?"
"Hey, Little Boy Blue," he says, grinning. "And the lovely Mrs. Taylor and even lovelier Miss Taylor." He kisses my mother's cheek and kisses Molly's hand. They are both like mush around him. Avi rolls his eyes. At least he has no illusions about Jimmy Hardy. "Where's the Big Bad Wolf?"
"He just got back from his treatment, so he's upstairs resting," I tell Jimmy pointedly. "That means no visitors."
Jimmy pulls me aside. "I'm not a visitor. I come bearing gifts." He pulls a small plastic bag of Maui Wowie out of his jacket pocket. "I wasn't sure if he'd finished up his supply yet."
As much as I don't want to do it, I take the baggie. The weed does seem to help Brian, so I'll dance with the fucking devil if it'll make my partner -- I mean, my husband -- feel better even for one hour.
"Thanks. But you can't stay."
"I won't disturb the man, Justie," he promises. "I'm only trying to be a good friend."
"I know you are," I say grudgingly.
"I brought him some of this, too." Jimmy hands me a plastic pill container. "I know he's been having... other problems."
I don't know whether to blush or kick Jimmy in the balls. It's Viagra. I immediately recognize the little blue pills from previous 'experiments' with it -- for recreational purposes only, of course.
I grit my teeth. "Brian can't take any unprescribed drugs while he's having radiation. You know that."
"Oh," says Jimmy. "Then keep them for later. He might need a little kick-start, you know what I mean?"
Jesus! "Yeah, whatever. Now, we're on our way out."
"Where are you taking the lovely ladies?"
"Disneyland."
Jimmy's face lights up. "Disneyland! I love it there! One of my first flicks was for Disney -- 'Dachshunds Gone Wild'! That went straight to video, but the kids love it. Oh, those dachshunds were devils. I remember one time..."
I cut him off. "I'm glad you're enjoying this trip down memory lane, Jimmy, but we have to leave... like, right now!"
Jimmy turns to my mom and sister. "Guess who's going to Disneyland with you? I practically own the place! We'll get the star treatment the whole way!"
I swear the two of them start jumping up and down, they're so excited. Avi's face looks grim. And now I really do want to kick Jimmy in the balls. But it's too late. He starts bustling them towards his Range Rover.
There's nothing to do but stash the weed and the Viagra in my studio and join the gang. Because it's better for Jimmy to be with us at Disneyland than here in the house with Brian.
Besides, I'll let him pay for everything.
Including the mouse ears.
***
Jimmy makes a call while we're heading to Anaheim and when we arrive at Disneyland there's a goddamn VIP Welcoming Committee at the front gate.
As much as I hate to admit it, Jimmy has real star power and they roll out the fucking Red Carpet for us. We get the full treatment -- escorted to the front of every line, special VIP restaurant for lunch, private rest areas and bathroom. You know those houses on Main Street? Well, they are real houses, with offices and VIP accommodations behind the facades.
Mom and Molly are in heaven -- and Jimmy is acting like the Jimmy Hardy you see on the screen -- funny, charming, open, the nicest guy in the world and America's Boy Next Door. It's more than a little sickening.
Every once in a while Avi pokes me in the ribs at something Jimmy says or at the way he's acting. But then he points out something more than a little troubling while we're waiting for Jimmy and Mom and Molly to pose for pictures with the official Disneyland photographer.
"Justin, have you noticed that Jimmy is being really nice to your mother?"
"I know," I say vaguely. "He's such a phony."
"No, I mean he's being especially nice to your mom. Watch him."
Sure enough, Jimmy is putting his arm around her. And he's taking her hand and leading her around. And whispering in her ear and making her laugh. Like they're on a date -- or something weird like that.
"He's just being Jimmy," I tell Avi, brushing it off.
But Avi shakes his head. "I'm glad that's not my mother!"
Actually, it turns out to be a fun day. The weather is perfect, we get all the perks, and Jimmy is on his best behavior, although I'm still suspicious of his motives. I really wish Brian were here. I call him a couple of times and he picks up right away and assures me that he's feeling better. He does sound better, but I always have to remember that Brian is an actor as much as Jimmy Hardy.
"I'm glad you didn't let Jimmy stay here and bug the shit out of me," says Brian during my final call. "I know it's a pain in the ass having to deal with him, but better him there than here with me while I'm trying to rest." He pauses. "And thank him for the weed. It's primo shit."
I take a deep breath. "I left that in the poolhouse, Brian."
"Which was exactly where I found it. Have fun, Sunshine. Bye bye."
We don't get home until almost 10:00, but Mom and Molly have had an amazing day. And Jimmy was so focused on being a bigshot that he left me pretty much alone. Avi and I trailed along behind and that turned out to be fine.
Brian sits up when I come in. "Where's the hat you promised me?"
"Har har," I say. "Molly's still wearing her mouse ears. I think she's going to sleep in them."
"And all I got was this bag of pot." Brian hands me a tightly rolled joint. "Here. You need this more than I do."
I take the joint. He's right -- I do need it. A couple of puffs later I'm feeling a lot more relaxed.
"The trick to dealing with Jimmy is feeding his ego," Brian counsels. "A public place, a pretty female to fawn over him, the star treatment -- presto! He's a happy camper and, best of all, he leaves me the fuck alone. So forget him. I'm the only movie star whose ass you need to worry about tonight."
"Do you mean that?" I give Brian a wicked smile. "Are you feeling up to... a little fooling around?"
That one eyebrow goes up. "If you don't mind fucking an old married man."
What does he think?
"I don't mind at all."
And I'm feeling far from impotent as I get out a condom and lube.
While we're fucking he starts to get hard -- not completely, but halfway. And I know he's feeling it when I hit the sweet spot. He shudders and lets out one of those big Brian Kinney groans.
Neither of us says what we're thinking afterwards -- that there's light at the end of the tunnel. And Brian only has ten days of treatment left until it's all over.
"On Thursday your mother and sister go home. Then the Oscars on Sunday. Then finishing the deadly rays," says Brian, smoking the last of the joint. "And after that -- Jamaica calls."
Sun, sand, and the two of us -- alone! "I can hardly wait!"
Yeah, we're almost there.
And after that...
***
In the morning I feel so great I get up long before Brian wakes up. I'm going to drive him to treatment and maybe he'll feel well enough to do some shopping. We need to get a few things before the Oscars -- he's presenting one of the technical awards and I know he always feels better if he's wearing a new tie or something.
I'm surprised to see my mother already in the kitchen, making coffee. Carmel isn't even here yet.
"You're up early," she says, kissing my cheek.
"Lots to do," I reply.
"Me, too," she returns. "Listen, darling, I need to call the airline."
"No problem. I'll have Avi confirm your reservations for tomorrow."
She wrinkles her nose at me, like she's about to tell me something I don't want to hear. "No, honey. I need to change my reservations."
The red flag goes up immediately. "Change them? Why? What's up?"
That's when she hits me with it -- the last thing I was expecting.
"Molly and I are staying another week!" she says gleefully.
"You are?" I'm puzzled. "But what about Molly's school?"
"I'll call her teacher later this morning and explain the situation, but I don't think they'll cause a fuss. Molly's such a good student, missing a few days won't hurt her."
"But..." I'm at a loss. "Not that I don't want you guys to stay longer, Mom, but I don't get it. Why the sudden change of plans?"
Her face is glowing. "Because... I'm going to the Oscars!"
Huh? "Huh?"
"With Jimmy!" she cries. "Last night after you, Molly, and Avi got out of the car, he asked me! I'm going to be Jimmy Hardy's date at the Academy Awards! Isn't that wonderful?"
"Yeah," I say, feeling dizzy. "Just wonderful."
And that impotent feeling?
Welcome to my fucking world!
This is Chapter 100 in the "Queer Identities" series.
The narrator is Justin Taylor, and features Brian Kinney, Jennifer Taylor, Molly Taylor, Jimmy Hardy, Avi Massarsky, Others.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Back home, back to reality. Los Angeles, February 2004.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. This is for fun, not profit. Enjoy.
Earlier "QI" chapters online and on the LJ are here:
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaelmcgear/Gaedhalficpage.html
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaedhal/
Most recent "QI" chapters on the LJ are here:
Ch. 97 "When My Boy Walks Down the Street"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/440368.html
Ch. 98 "Maybe I'm Amazed"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/441326.html
Ch. 99 "I Will Survive"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/441469.html
By Gaedhal
I feel impotent.
Not literally, of course. But about Brian. And about my mother. And about... so many things.
I should be celebrating. After all, it's my fucking honeymoon!
Well, not exactly. We had one weekend that was kind of like a honeymoon -- if you count your mother and sister and Jimmy Hardy as part of the honeymoon party.
Brian promised that we're going on a real honeymoon right after the Oscars. He's already arranged it. A very private, very exclusive resort in Jamaica. Apparently all the movie stars and rock stars and members of the Royal Family go there. Dorian suggested it.
I'm hoping it'll be the place where Brian gets his mojo back. His treatment will be long over by then and we'll have time to ourselves. No worries -- 'Hakuna Matata' and all that. What could be better?
But in the meanwhile...
Impotent.
Goddamn this feeling!
"Honey... I hate to mention it..." Mom begins.
Then why mention it? Don't you think it's pretty obvious?
"But is Brian all right?" she continues.
"He has cancer, Mom. He had to go for radiation this morning and now he feels like shit. What do you think?"
I know I sound like a brat, but it just gets to me.
Sunday evening Brian and I went to dinner at Fleur de Lys, this really romantic place in San Francisco. Brian was in a great mood, we had another amazing dinner, and Brian even ate most of his. Mom and Molly went out with Jimmy. He took them to some place in Chinatown and they got fawned over by everyone. Mom loved it. Afterwards we all met up back at the hotel and the limo drove us to the airport, where we flew back to L.A. on Jimmy's private jet. Mom loved that, too.
"But he seems... sicker today," she says. "Wasn't he supposed to do something this afternoon at the studio for his movie?"
"He was scheduled to loop some dialogue for 'Red Shirt', but he had to cancel. He can do it another time, Mom."
"But..."
"Mom, just give it a fucking rest, okay?"
Yes, Brian seems sicker today. But he missed his treatment on Friday and then was off for another two days. The radiation is just hitting him extra hard. Tomorrow he'll probably be better. I hope.
"I'm sorry, darling," she says. "I'm just concerned."
"I know. I hate to be such a bitch. Why don't you and Molly go shopping? Avi can drive you."
She hesitates. "Yes... that would be nice. If it isn't too much trouble for your friend. I'm sure Molly would like that."
"It's Avi's job, Mom. He'll be glad to do it."
And I'll be glad to get you out of my hair for a couple of hours.
It's not that I don't love my mother and sister, because I do. But having them in the house while Brian is sick... I didn't think it would be so stressful. I didn't think she'd be driving me so crazy about Brian's health, or that Molly would be driving me crazy about being bored. Or that Mom would get into an argument with Carmel about cooking dinner. Or... I mean, it's just little stuff, but little stuff gets blown all out of proportion when it's your mother.
Brian is lying in bed, the shades drawn, his arm over his eyes. "Are they gone yet?"
"I sent them out with Avi to Rodeo Drive."
Brian sighs. "This isn't the best time to have company."
"I know," I say. "And I'm sorry. But she means well. She's worried about you."
"You mean she's worried about you and how you're dealing with me. The famous queer wedding was one thing, but today her baby boy being married probably looks like a big fucking mistake."
"It's not a mistake," I assert.
"Repeat that statement after another two weeks of this fucking shit."
"Two weeks is nothing," I tell him. "You once told me you could do four weeks of anything standing on your head."
Brian winces. "Tell my head that. And my stomach." He lifts the covers and glances at his dick. "And tell my dick. He thinks he doesn't belong to the rest of me anymore."
"He belongs. He's just taking a vacation." I slide an arm around Brian's shoulders. "And speaking of vacations... the travel agent sent over those brochures of the resort in Jamaica. It looks amazing!"
"Dorian says it's beyond amazing. It's Ian Fleming's old estate, so you can sit on the beach, drink rum, and pretend you're James Bond."
"Then I'd be drinking a martini -- shaken, not stirred."
"Rum is better for the beach," Brian advises. "But you can have a martini in the evening when we check out the night life. We'll have to pack our dinner jackets for the casino."
I make a face. "I don't like gin. It tastes like bug spray."
"Then have a vodka martini. That's what Bond would do."
I stretch languidly. "I think margaritas are more my speed. They don't make me hung over."
"Just wait, twat," Brian sniffs. "You drink enough of anything and you'll feel it -- eventually. But I can at least get drunk vicariously through you."
He looks a little green, but not as bad as he looked this morning after the deadly rays. We barely made it back to the house before he started throwing up. And -- of course! -- my mother was right there to witness the whole thing. That's when she really started to freak out. I mean, Brian was feeling tired and crappy Friday night and Saturday afternoon, but then for our dinner at Farallon and again on Sunday he was pretty much back to normal. Outwardly, that is.
"I don't think I've thanked you enough for the weekend," I say. "Seriously, it was wonderful. Everything."
"Except my dick," he replies. There's no self-pity in his voice, or irony. It's just a statement of fact.
"Be patient, okay? Things will work out."
"The eternal optimist." He closes his eyes.
"Not always," I remind him. "That's what you may remember, but I've had my moments when I was ready to give up. Think about after I was bashed..."
"You didn't give up!" he huffs. "You only tried harder. I know -- I was there."
"I know," I echo. "You were there." I suddenly feel safe in his arms. Like everything really will work out okay. Like I always did know it would. "You never let me get away with anything. And you never let me give up."
"I didn't do squat. No one can tell you what to do and that's a fact. The pitbull, remember?"
"Except get married," I mention.
"That was your idea, too," he insists. "You must have been whispering it in my ear for years while I was sleeping. Subliminal seduction, they call it in advertising. I'd never have gotten the idea by myself."
"Keep telling yourself that."
I roll Brian over and rub his shoulders and back. This is my new favorite thing to do and he seems to love it, too. If we can't always have sex, this is the next best thing. Touching. Skin on skin. It relaxes Brian, but it also relaxes me, too. It makes me feel like I'm doing something to help him. It makes me feel less impotent.
"So this is what married life is like -- domestic bliss. Plus, the mother-in-law staying in the guest room."
"And the sister-in-law."
"Her, too." Brian opens his eyes and looks at me. I love his eyes, especially the flecks of gold in the greenish iris. Every time I look at them they're different. Sometimes dark and brooding, other times sexy and smoldering. And then sad and far-away. "Maybe if Avi doesn't have anything else to do, he can take them to Disneyland tomorrow."
That makes me perk up. "Disneyland? I've never been to Disneyland!"
"Then you should go, too. It'll give you some quality time with your mom and sister. And you can bring me back one of those stupid hats with the ears."
I laugh at the picture. "If I do, I'll make you wear it!"
He yawns. He's fucking exhausted and all he's done is sleep all day. The tech at the radiation center said Dr. Sun should check him for a low white blood cell count. She said that could be making him extra tired.
"Yeah, me in a hat." Brian nestles his face in the pillow. "Like that would ever happen. I fucking hate hats."
"I know," I say. "That's what would make it so great."
***
We are just getting ready to leave for Disneyland when a guest shows up -- unannounced and uninvited, as usual.
"Jimmy, we're leaving in five minutes. What do you want?"
"Hey, Little Boy Blue," he says, grinning. "And the lovely Mrs. Taylor and even lovelier Miss Taylor." He kisses my mother's cheek and kisses Molly's hand. They are both like mush around him. Avi rolls his eyes. At least he has no illusions about Jimmy Hardy. "Where's the Big Bad Wolf?"
"He just got back from his treatment, so he's upstairs resting," I tell Jimmy pointedly. "That means no visitors."
Jimmy pulls me aside. "I'm not a visitor. I come bearing gifts." He pulls a small plastic bag of Maui Wowie out of his jacket pocket. "I wasn't sure if he'd finished up his supply yet."
As much as I don't want to do it, I take the baggie. The weed does seem to help Brian, so I'll dance with the fucking devil if it'll make my partner -- I mean, my husband -- feel better even for one hour.
"Thanks. But you can't stay."
"I won't disturb the man, Justie," he promises. "I'm only trying to be a good friend."
"I know you are," I say grudgingly.
"I brought him some of this, too." Jimmy hands me a plastic pill container. "I know he's been having... other problems."
I don't know whether to blush or kick Jimmy in the balls. It's Viagra. I immediately recognize the little blue pills from previous 'experiments' with it -- for recreational purposes only, of course.
I grit my teeth. "Brian can't take any unprescribed drugs while he's having radiation. You know that."
"Oh," says Jimmy. "Then keep them for later. He might need a little kick-start, you know what I mean?"
Jesus! "Yeah, whatever. Now, we're on our way out."
"Where are you taking the lovely ladies?"
"Disneyland."
Jimmy's face lights up. "Disneyland! I love it there! One of my first flicks was for Disney -- 'Dachshunds Gone Wild'! That went straight to video, but the kids love it. Oh, those dachshunds were devils. I remember one time..."
I cut him off. "I'm glad you're enjoying this trip down memory lane, Jimmy, but we have to leave... like, right now!"
Jimmy turns to my mom and sister. "Guess who's going to Disneyland with you? I practically own the place! We'll get the star treatment the whole way!"
I swear the two of them start jumping up and down, they're so excited. Avi's face looks grim. And now I really do want to kick Jimmy in the balls. But it's too late. He starts bustling them towards his Range Rover.
There's nothing to do but stash the weed and the Viagra in my studio and join the gang. Because it's better for Jimmy to be with us at Disneyland than here in the house with Brian.
Besides, I'll let him pay for everything.
Including the mouse ears.
***
Jimmy makes a call while we're heading to Anaheim and when we arrive at Disneyland there's a goddamn VIP Welcoming Committee at the front gate.
As much as I hate to admit it, Jimmy has real star power and they roll out the fucking Red Carpet for us. We get the full treatment -- escorted to the front of every line, special VIP restaurant for lunch, private rest areas and bathroom. You know those houses on Main Street? Well, they are real houses, with offices and VIP accommodations behind the facades.
Mom and Molly are in heaven -- and Jimmy is acting like the Jimmy Hardy you see on the screen -- funny, charming, open, the nicest guy in the world and America's Boy Next Door. It's more than a little sickening.
Every once in a while Avi pokes me in the ribs at something Jimmy says or at the way he's acting. But then he points out something more than a little troubling while we're waiting for Jimmy and Mom and Molly to pose for pictures with the official Disneyland photographer.
"Justin, have you noticed that Jimmy is being really nice to your mother?"
"I know," I say vaguely. "He's such a phony."
"No, I mean he's being especially nice to your mom. Watch him."
Sure enough, Jimmy is putting his arm around her. And he's taking her hand and leading her around. And whispering in her ear and making her laugh. Like they're on a date -- or something weird like that.
"He's just being Jimmy," I tell Avi, brushing it off.
But Avi shakes his head. "I'm glad that's not my mother!"
Actually, it turns out to be a fun day. The weather is perfect, we get all the perks, and Jimmy is on his best behavior, although I'm still suspicious of his motives. I really wish Brian were here. I call him a couple of times and he picks up right away and assures me that he's feeling better. He does sound better, but I always have to remember that Brian is an actor as much as Jimmy Hardy.
"I'm glad you didn't let Jimmy stay here and bug the shit out of me," says Brian during my final call. "I know it's a pain in the ass having to deal with him, but better him there than here with me while I'm trying to rest." He pauses. "And thank him for the weed. It's primo shit."
I take a deep breath. "I left that in the poolhouse, Brian."
"Which was exactly where I found it. Have fun, Sunshine. Bye bye."
We don't get home until almost 10:00, but Mom and Molly have had an amazing day. And Jimmy was so focused on being a bigshot that he left me pretty much alone. Avi and I trailed along behind and that turned out to be fine.
Brian sits up when I come in. "Where's the hat you promised me?"
"Har har," I say. "Molly's still wearing her mouse ears. I think she's going to sleep in them."
"And all I got was this bag of pot." Brian hands me a tightly rolled joint. "Here. You need this more than I do."
I take the joint. He's right -- I do need it. A couple of puffs later I'm feeling a lot more relaxed.
"The trick to dealing with Jimmy is feeding his ego," Brian counsels. "A public place, a pretty female to fawn over him, the star treatment -- presto! He's a happy camper and, best of all, he leaves me the fuck alone. So forget him. I'm the only movie star whose ass you need to worry about tonight."
"Do you mean that?" I give Brian a wicked smile. "Are you feeling up to... a little fooling around?"
That one eyebrow goes up. "If you don't mind fucking an old married man."
What does he think?
"I don't mind at all."
And I'm feeling far from impotent as I get out a condom and lube.
While we're fucking he starts to get hard -- not completely, but halfway. And I know he's feeling it when I hit the sweet spot. He shudders and lets out one of those big Brian Kinney groans.
Neither of us says what we're thinking afterwards -- that there's light at the end of the tunnel. And Brian only has ten days of treatment left until it's all over.
"On Thursday your mother and sister go home. Then the Oscars on Sunday. Then finishing the deadly rays," says Brian, smoking the last of the joint. "And after that -- Jamaica calls."
Sun, sand, and the two of us -- alone! "I can hardly wait!"
Yeah, we're almost there.
And after that...
***
In the morning I feel so great I get up long before Brian wakes up. I'm going to drive him to treatment and maybe he'll feel well enough to do some shopping. We need to get a few things before the Oscars -- he's presenting one of the technical awards and I know he always feels better if he's wearing a new tie or something.
I'm surprised to see my mother already in the kitchen, making coffee. Carmel isn't even here yet.
"You're up early," she says, kissing my cheek.
"Lots to do," I reply.
"Me, too," she returns. "Listen, darling, I need to call the airline."
"No problem. I'll have Avi confirm your reservations for tomorrow."
She wrinkles her nose at me, like she's about to tell me something I don't want to hear. "No, honey. I need to change my reservations."
The red flag goes up immediately. "Change them? Why? What's up?"
That's when she hits me with it -- the last thing I was expecting.
"Molly and I are staying another week!" she says gleefully.
"You are?" I'm puzzled. "But what about Molly's school?"
"I'll call her teacher later this morning and explain the situation, but I don't think they'll cause a fuss. Molly's such a good student, missing a few days won't hurt her."
"But..." I'm at a loss. "Not that I don't want you guys to stay longer, Mom, but I don't get it. Why the sudden change of plans?"
Her face is glowing. "Because... I'm going to the Oscars!"
Huh? "Huh?"
"With Jimmy!" she cries. "Last night after you, Molly, and Avi got out of the car, he asked me! I'm going to be Jimmy Hardy's date at the Academy Awards! Isn't that wonderful?"
"Yeah," I say, feeling dizzy. "Just wonderful."
And that impotent feeling?
Welcome to my fucking world!