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peg22So I decided to do weekly installments. For one, it's a little hard to transcribe all the files so fast. And the fact checking is taking more time than I thought it would. People are very protective of our boys . . .
IV. Summer Crack: It’s Not the Fall So Much as the Sudden Stop at the Bottom
Hello?
Hugh?
Paul, Paul, Paul. Do you know how perfect your timing is?
Am I bothering you?
I hope so.
Are you drunk?
I hope so.
Hugh, I just called to tell you . . .
Yes, I’ll marry you. Let’s fly to
Hugh . . .
Paul . . .
Seriously, I . . .
Seriously? For reals?
Where are you – I can’t talk to you over the phone like this.
I’m . . . just a minute – excuse me, what is this lovely place called? Oh, really? Paul, I am presently pickling my liver in Heaven.
Heaven?
Apparently. Although the only angel I’ve seen is the bartender with the enormous . . . biceps.
Where is it? I need to sober you up.
I think you need to come and get drunk with me. Let nature take its course. Be my rebound guy.
Hugh, where are you?
I’ll be there in 20 minutes. And Hugh?
Yes, my dear, dear Paul . . .
Don’t answer your phone again. No matter what.
Why?
I’ll tell you when I get there. And tell that angel with the biceps to give you some coffee. Or tea.
Roger wilco, Sergeant Gorgeous Ass.
Really, you’re going to need the caffeine. And don’t answer the phone.
You’re rather a buzz kill, Paul – you know that?
You’ll thank me later.
Really, I will? Splendid. I will perch myself ever so innocently here amongst the angels and await your arrival.
Okay. Good. See you then.
*click*
Gabriel, blow me another round . . .
*****
Stephen stood at the limo door, waiting. Smoking. Finally, David came barreling through the sliding glass doors of the airport and tossed the driver his bag.
“How in the hell did you get through customs so goddamn fast?” David swiped Stephen’s cigarette from his mouth and took a long hit. “You would think I had leaded shorts or something.”
Stephen lit another cigarette. “Your shorts were of no interest I’m sure. It was your surly attitude and multiple passports. Why did you switch teams, by the way, dear Hutchy?”
“I didn’t switch teams. I got a goddamn British passport so I wouldn’t have all this goddamn hassle at all the goddamn airports.” David tossed his cigarette and bent down to get in the car.
And quickly stood up, smacking his head on the top of the door. “Ow! What the fuck is going on, Fry?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“There are . . . people in the car.”
“Oh, yes. David. I took the liberty of ordering us a couple of . . . treats for the ride.”
But they’re . . . clones.
“Twins. From Cirque du Soleil. Quite limber.”
“You are fucking out of your mind.” David stood up and took the cigarette again out of Stephen’s mouth. “Get rid of them.”
“But you don’t understand the trouble I went through to get them.”
“And you don’t understand the trouble I will go through if I show up at Paulie’s with two . . . what? Hookers?”
Stephen clutched his chest. “Oh, moi no. They’re artistes.”
“Yeah, whatever.” David leaned back into the limo. “Out. Both of you.”
The two men climbed out of the limo and Stephen handed them money and then laid his head on David’s shoulder as they disappeared into a cab.
“That is one of the saddest sights I have ever seen.” Stephen mopped his eyes with David’s collar.
“Yeah, well, I’ll make it up to you. Okay?”
“Oh, yes you will.” Stephen swiped his cigarette back and folded himself into the limo. “When this is all over, you will surely make it up to me.”
David crawled in beside him. “I’m not sure what scares me more – this goddamn mess you’re dragging me into, or what’s going to happen after.”
Stephen smiled and patted David on the knee as the limo pulled out into traffic. “All I suggest is that you stay hydrated.”
*****
He’s where?
Heaven.
Repeating the word is not going to make me understand it any better, Uma.
Okay, Bobby – he’s at a gay bar in
Where in
How do I know? Do you want me to go?
No, I’ll go. What did he say, exactly?
He said, “Uma, you are a gorgeous woman and I am in dire need of a gorgeous woman. Fancy a fuck?”
He said that?
Yes, plus a couple of other things I can’t mention.
You can mention fancy a fuck and there are things you can’t mention?
Bobby, just get down there. You created this mess. Go fix it.
I didn’t . . . how do I fix it?
How do I know? What’s going on with you two? Didn’t Hugh know about Gaby?
Yes, of course he did. And we were . . . done.
Done? Yeah, whatever.
We were. It’s been purely professional for months.
That last episode was anything but professional. You were bleeding all over each other.
Well, it’s complicated.
Yes, Bobby it always is. Now get your ass down there and save your boyfriend from a potential lawsuit and headlines in People magazine.
He’s not my boyfriend.
Now you’re pissing me off. You want me to call Jude to go get him? Or I’ve got Nathan on speed dial . . .
That’s low. Okay, I’m going, I’m going.
And go in the back door. You don’t need to be in People, either.
Oh god.
*****
Paul went around the corner on 17th and found the back door to Heaven. Chuckled at the irony. Cracked the door open and was met by a very large man with very large biceps. Perhaps Hugh’s angel.
“You coming or going?” Angel crossed his enormous arms and stared at Paul.
“Is that a trick question?” Paul cocked his head and hoped he wasn’t about to get hammered.
Angel took a minute and then smiled and opened the door. “Funny guy. Come on in.”
Paul ducked under Angel’s arm and took two steps forward and then stopped, allowing his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight to the dark cave. He walked up the bar and ordered a whiskey.
“I do believe you are just what the doctor ordered,” Hugh said as he slid onto the barstool next to Paul.
“Hugh. Hiya.”
“Hiya, Paul. Come here often?”
“Another trick question.” Paul took a gulp of his drink. “How are you?”
“Better now. Earlier? Despondent. Morose. Melancholia ad naseum. Be glad you missed it.”
“You didn’t use your phone did you?”
“You told me not to answer my phone. You said nothing about outgoing calls.” Hugh reached over and took Paul’s glass and drained it. “Oh, Manfred, another round please.”
Paul looked shocked. “Manfred? The bartender’s name is Manfred?”
“Apparently.”
Paul shook his head and took the glass from Manfred, the suspersized bartender. “Davey will not believe it.”
Hugh scooted closer. “What are you going on about? What about Davey?”
“Oh just something we used to do. Manfred. A doppelganger.”
Hugh flopped both legs over Paul’s. “Oh, do tell, you beautiful man.”
Paul shoved Hugh’s legs off and managed to knock him off the stool. Hugh’s foot caught Paul under the arm and they both landed on the floor.
“Hey, none of that in my place.” Manfred came around the end of the bar. “You want that kind of action, you can go down to Rawhide.”
From the floor, Hugh chuckled. “Rawhide? That is most definitely a place we need to go.” He wriggled out from under Paul, who was being lifted by the back of his jeans by backdoor angel.
Paul wiped off his shirt and tugged his jeans back down. “We’re not going anywhere.” He leaned over to Manfred. “You know who he is, right?”
Manfred rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he’s told everyone in the place. Dr. House. I watched his show a few times. Not bad. Don’t worry – it’s
“Great. You got a back room?”
Manfred’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs. “Really? You two? Never would’ve guessed. Thought he had wood for that actor guy on his show – Robert Wilson Whatever . . .”
“Uh, no – not a backroom . . . uh . . . how bout a back booth?”
Manfred just shook his head and pointed to a booth in the back, opposite the back door.
“Thanks.” Paul helped Hugh to his feet. “And can we have a pot of black coffee?”
“No way, no how, my pretty Paulie,” Hugh breathed as he leaned into Paul. “I am strictly a tea bagger.”
Manfred rolled his eyes again. “Jesus, you two are a piece of work.”
Suddenly the front door flew open and a giant stepped into the shaft of light, calling out, “She is back in New York, my angels, let the revelry commence,” followed by, “I can’t see a goddamn thing, Fry – get out of the way.”
Paul turned quickly at Davey’s voice, which caused Hugh to wrap his arms around Paul’s neck, his legs buckling. Paul stumbled back into the bar stools, cursing.
“Hugh, stand up.”
Davey came out from behind Stephen, saw Hugh in Paul’s arms and stopped.
“What the hell . . .”
The front door slammed shut just as the back door opened and Robert walked in, shading his eyes. He looked first at David, standing with his mouth open. Then he saw Hugh wrapped around Paul, Paul’s hand on Hugh’s ass. Finally he saw Stephen, who winked and swept past the statue of David.
“Well, well, in flagrante delicto of the most delectable. Junket dear, stand up so Hutchy can kill Starsky before our little Wordsworth has a stroke. I mean, really – you carrying on like randy schoolboys . . . and in Heaven.” He leaned over to Manfred, who was standing behind the bar. “I think we’re going to need your most expensive champagne, dear.”
Finally, Paul pushed Hugh against the stool and took a step toward David. “Davey . . . I was just . . .”
“Don’t talk to me, Paulie. Seriously. Shut the fuck up.” He climbed up on a barstool. “ And fuck the champagne. I need a whiskey – neat. And put it on Fry’s tab.”
Hugh turned to Robert. “Bobby . . . I didn’t expect to find you in heaven. I thought you’d be out getting fitted for your gown.”
Robert cleared his throat and put his hands on his hips. “You called Uma and she called me.”
“Really? Oh, fine friend she is – ratting me out.” Hugh slid onto the stool next to David. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Hugh!” Paul warned.
“Oh, wait – I already did.” Hugh leaned toward David. “You are one lucky bastard, you know that?”
David turned and his fist connected with Hugh’s jaw. Hugh slid to the floor.
“Hugh!” Robert rushed over, crouching down beside Hugh, holding his head. “Hugh, are you alright?”
Hugh lifted his arm and snaked his hand around Robert’s neck, pulling his head down until their lips touched.
Paul slid onto the stool next to David. “That was uncalled for, Davey.”
“You’re right – I should have hit you.”
“Don’t be an ass. He was drunk – I came here to-“
“Don’t play the good Samaritan card, Paulie. It doesn’t work. In Heaven.” David rattled his glass at Manfred. “Come on, come on. Just leave me the bottle.”
Paul folded his arms and stopped talking. Robert broke contact with Hugh, stared at him for a moment, and then bent down and kissed him again.
Stephen clapped his hands and laughed. “Oh, my I do believe this is going to be the best time I’ve ever had in Heaven. Bartender, everything is on my tab. And I mean everything.”
Manfred shook his head as he took the offered credit card. “Fucking actors. No one is ever going to believe this.” He walked over to the door and flipped the sign to Closed.
