It also probably helped that I didn’t have any sense of self-preservation. “Darren’s going to dress up in drag and then I’m going to sell him.” I couldn’t help the glee that trickled into my voice at such a notion. It was going to be amazing.
The dressing him in drag part.
Not the auctioning him off part.
Because that didn’t sound good at all.
In fact, I rather hated that idea.
Not because of jealousy or anything.
Obviously.
“Yeah,” Darren said with a sigh. “I thought that’s what you said.”
“Why in God’s name would he do that?” Taylor asked incredulously. “Darren has a tad bit more self-respect than that.”
“Apparently I don’t,” Darren muttered.
I bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with drag.”
“Besides everything, you mean,” Taylor said. “It’s not natural.”
Darren moved my silverware away from me. It was disconcerting that he knew me well enough to remove forks from my reach when his father was insulting me. I was feeling very stabby again.
“There’s nothing unnatural about it,” I said. “Drag performers have been around for centuries. When performing Shakespeare’s plays, all the roles, including those of women, were played by men. It’s not a sexual thing, or a gender-identity thing. It’s about performance.”
“Those men weren’t homosexual,” Taylor said.
“Right,” I said. “Because there are never any gay men in theater. What was I thinking?”
“It has nothing to do with self-respect,” Darren told his father. “If it helps raise some money for people who might not otherwise have it, then I have no problem with it.”
“But you’re not a bachelor,” Taylor pointed out. “Nor are you gay. Why would you let yourself be whored out like that?”
“I’m not being whored out,” Darren said with a growl. “It’s a friendly thing with absolutely none of the lasciviousness that you’ve apparently got stuck in your head. I do it because I want to, not because I’m forced to.”
I was surprised he was going along with this. And, of course, I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d look like in drag. It would either be amazing or a train wreck. Most likely an amazing train wreck. With sequins and lipstick.
“And you’d let this happen?” Taylor said, looking at me.
I narrowed my eyes. “Darren does what he wants. I don’t own him.”
“He’s your boyfriend.”
“And?”
“He’d be going on a romantic rendezvous with another… man.”
“Yes, well. He knows what side his bread is buttered on. My side. In case you didn’t infer what I meant.”
Darren rolled his eyes. “And it’s not romantic. These dates are just meant to be conversation, a thank-you for the donation. I’m with Helena. I wouldn’t do anything with anyone else.”
Ow. That hit me right in my imaginary uterus. I wanted to have his babies.
That was an odd feeling to have.
Taylor shook his head. “I just don’t understand.”