Page 7 of A Straight Line

I turned to stare at my uncle, finding his eyes on the photo and a sentimental curve to his lips. If I wasn’t mistaken, his eyes looked watery.

“My God, Russ,” He said, collecting himself, “we danced. Morty—or Bang Bang in most cases—could light up a place. Even if everyone in the room was ready to fight, he’d get them all on the dance floor. It was like we didn’t go to Greece, but Greece came to us. You’d see it in Morty’s eyes when Bang Bang would take over—and you knew that something special was about to happen. No matter who might find our little foursome strange, he would make them accept us. Where he went, a celebration happened. No one hated us when Bang Bang was there. I’ve always said, where Bang Bang goes, Pride follows.”

“Who’s the other guy?” I asked, unsure of what else I could say to my Uncle. “The one sitting with Bang—Morty?”

“Robert,” Vic answered.

“I’ve never met him,” I said. “Is he…is he coming tonight?”

It seemed an odd question, considering how old he looked in a photo twenty-five years old.

“If Bang Bang is coming, so is Robert,” Uncle Vic said.

“Cool,” I responded, turning to him. “Knowing Bang Bang, that’ll be around midnight, right?”

Vic’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he opened his mouth to respond. Doorbell chimes made him stop and turn away to glance down toward the entryway.

“Finally!” Uncle Harry’s voice carried from the kitchen.

Uncle Vic raised his arm to glance at his watch.

An honest to goodness watch.

“Five-fifty-eight.” He winked at me. “Thank goodness.”

“Go on.” I waved him off as Harry’s footsteps thundered from the living room. “Intercept before he snatches the wig off of the caterer.”

“How right you are.” He sighed with a grin, then stepped past me to hurry down the hall.

Uncle Vic reached the front door just a moment before Uncle Harry exited the living room into the entryway, looking loaded for bear. Of course, the caterer had arrived before the time they had told Vic on the phone, but Harry wasn’t pleased either way. Having them arrive just an hour before the party was unacceptable, regardless of whether or not an hour was plenty of time for them to set up. Harry had his expectations—realistic or not—and if they weren’t met, everyone would hear about it. I watched with amusement as Vic took a moment to settle Harry down in the entryway. Then the door was swung wide, and catering staff was rushing in with trays and containers and serving implements.

I stepped to the side, allowing them to rush by me in the hall on their way to the kitchen. Some of the staff were carrying containers with steam coming from them, while others looked as though they had just been removed from a refrigerator. More staff spilled through the door carrying cases of beer and other beverages. At least one of the employees was carrying a box full of liquor bottles—mostly vodka and tequila from what I could tell, though I saw a few bottles that contained darker liquids. My back stayed against the wall as at least a dozen of the caterer’s people rushed past me, on a mission to make a party happen in an hour. As soon as all of the staff had dropped things off in the kitchen, they raced back down the hallway—in a professional manner, of course—to go out and retrieve more trays and containers from the caterer’s vehicles out front.

The next round consisted of giant vessels—almost like horse troughs really—being carried down the hallway. An employer at either end, the troughs were brought down the hall, and more boxes and containers followed. The third trip consisted of giant bags of ice and salt being carried along the hall as I held my position against the wall and out of the way. Harry and Vic were carrying on a conversation with the owner of the catering business in the entryway, staying clear of the open doorway. When the employees came through the house on what I assumed was the final trip, catering equipment and devices in tow, Harry began to shout orders, ignoring the conversation that continued between Vic and the caterer.

“Beers in one and sodas, waters in the other. Ice them down good, people! We need them nice and cold for everyone at seven o’clock! The extra ice can go in the deep freeze through the door off of the kitchen in the garage!” He commanded.

“Get the chafing dishes set up, guys!” The caterer followed up. “Keep the cold items covered and in the fridge until six-forty. Then we’ll get everything set up on ice!”

“Is twenty minutes enough?” I heard Harry ask urgently, turning to the caterer.

Uncle Vic caught my eye from the other end of the hall and gave me a sly wink as the caterer and Harry launched into another animated discussion. Sounds of the catering staff banging around in the kitchen sounded through the house as I pushed away from the wall, returning Vic’s wink. There wasn’t a particular secret language Uncle Vic and I shared, but we always amused ourselves pretending that Harry exasperated us. The wall of photos in front of me got a final lingering glance, then I made my way down the hall towards the kitchen.

Ignoring what was going on in the entryway was easy once I got to the other end of the house. Not only did Vic and Harry have a large house, but the clamor coming from the kitchen, thanks to the catering staff, blocked out anything else. I peered through the kitchen doorway, giving myself a moment to watch the staff work together to get things set up. Bodies glided to and fro in the kitchen, a symphony of well-trained and highly skilled staff working in synchronicity to achieve one goal. I’d worked in kitchens, even spent time as a waiter for a catering company in New York, when I was in my late teens and early twenties, so I wasn’t unfamiliar with the way things were supposed to work. The Littleburg Rainbow Catering Company put all others to shame, even the ones in big cities.

Not that I’d ever been invited to such prestigious events, but I had a feeling that The Littleburg Rainbow Catering Company could teach a thing or two to the folks who catered the Met Gala. I’d never received an invitation, of course, so that was good enough reason for me to believe they didn’t run things well there.

I slipped into the half-bathroom at the end of the hall, just past the kitchen, so that I could look out of the window to see what was going on outside with the catering staff.

Unbeknownst to me, the DJ had arrived, having apparently come around the side of the house to sneak in and start setting up his booth. I watched with rapt attention as he began his work, setting up electronic equipment I didn’t recognize, nor would I know how to use even if a gun was placed to my head. Another guy, a little older than the first guy, appeared from around the house, a stack of electronic equipment piled in his arms. Obviously, the DJ had an assistant—or a buddy—to help him get set up for my uncles’ party. Telling which guy was the DJ and which one was the assistant was easy. The guy with the jeans covered in rainbow patches, a tank top in a pink so bright it could blind the sun, enough stainless-steel jewelry for a WWE wrestler, and hair so tall it could have lunch with Jesus, was obviously the DJ. The other guy was in simple black jeans and a black t-shirt, dark hair of a natural, God-given color, and simple, yet fashionable kicks. He obviously hadn’t come to perform. He was just a friend of the DJ’s. Of course, when it came to A Straight Line, my uncles didn’t want for friends.

Ever since I could remember, my uncles’ bar had been a part of my life. Not that I was going to the bar regularly until I was older and happened to be in town, of course, since only people over the age of eighteen were allowed inside, but they’d owned and operated it for my entire life. When I was a little kid, and my parents would bring me to visit my uncles—Uncle Vic is my dad’s brother—they’d all be talking about the bar. How’s it doing this year? Making money yet? Don’t you worry, running a gay bar out here in the sticks? Really? You made that much this year? We drove by on the way in, and there’s a crowd out the door, Vic!

Sometimes, though I was too young, my parents and my uncles would take me to the bar early in the afternoon to eat. That was after the addition of a bar and grill. After several years of owning the bar, and it had started making enough money, Harry and Vic decided that serving a simple menu for lunch and early supper would help make them even more money. Much to my parents’ astonishment, my uncles had invested a lot of their profits into having a kitchen installed at the back of the bar and then had a dining area built onto the building.

After the construction, the local—and not so local—LGBTQ-plus people could stop by for a burger and fries, a sandwich and chips, simple pasta dishes, wings, and the typical things you’d see on the menu at a similar establishment. I always loved the chicken fingers and coleslaw. The bar and grill was a success, often frequented by LGBTQ-plus and not so LGBTQ-plus people in Littleburg and the surrounding area. It was good, affordable, and a lot of fun. Eventually, on Fridays, Bang Bang organized it so that all of the local drag performers came in and performed wait staff duties, cracking jokes, cackling uproariously with patrons, and slinging hash. All of the tips they made went to charity.

The money went to LGBTQ-plus charities, the cancer center a few towns over, the homeless shelter, and the soup kitchen. Many of kids at Littleburg Elementary got new books and learning supplies in their classrooms, thanks to Bang Bang’s brilliant idea. Of course, this only helped normalize A Straight Line’s existence in the community and endeared Harry, Vic, and Bang Bang to the more uptight members of the community. Honestly, I think that was Bang Bang’s primary motivation in starting Drag Queen Dinners—that’s what she called them—not so much altruism. Uncle Vic always said that Bang Bang was “one step ahead on the chessboard,” and I couldn’t help but believe he was right. Some people might think having ulterior motives made Bang Bang conniving. However, people were genuinely helped by Bang Bang’s ideas, and her conniving was only motivated by wanting more people in the community to accept and respect the LGBTQ-plus community. To me, that’s just altruism with a twist.