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The Kid sighs. “I worry about you sometimes, Papa Bear.”
“What did you want?” I growl at Otter.
He looks at me, and his eyes go wide and he smiles that crooked smile.
“Good,” the Kid says encouragingly. “Keep it just like that.”
“Some friends of mine want to go out to a bar in Portland this weekend.
They asked if we wanted to go,” Otter says, still smiling. It’s a little creepy now.
I frown. “That’s not a big deal. As long as Mrs. Paquinn can watch the Kid, and as long as Tyson is okay with it, I don’t see what the problem is.”
“It’s a gay bar.”
“Oh,” I say. “Uh… you can go.” Even though I don’t mean that at all.
He looks at me knowingly. “The invite was for the both of us. My friends want to meet you, I haven’t hung out with them in forever, and we can both use a night off.”
“Would either of you be going in drag?” the Kid asks. “I was researching gay history and I’m quite taken with drag queens. They have cool hats and stage names. I found a drag queen name generator online, and my drag name is Minerva Fox. I would probably sing a lot of Barbra.”
“Who’s Barbra?” I ask him, glancing at Otter. Otter looks as baffled as I do.
He shrugs. “All the pictures I saw said that drag queens sang Barbra. I don’t even know what that means.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but why were you researching gay history?”
He stares at me like I’m stupid. “You’re gay.”
“I’m not….” I stop myself before that old argument comes up again. I’ll just keep telling myself I don’t like labels. Maybe one day I’ll even believe it. “Look, I don’t think I would be comfortable there.”
“How would you know unless you tried?” the Kid says wisely.
“Yeah, how would you know?” Otter echoes, sounding less wise.
“Look, maybe next time, you know? I don’t think it’s a good idea. What with the whole custody thing going on. And stuff.”
“Already on it,” Tyson says, dialing into his cell phone. “Erica? Hi! It’s me! Minerva Fox! What? No. It’s Tyson. Tyson McKenna? Minerva’s my stage name. Yeah, everything is fine. What? Oh, school is okay, I guess. It’s still a little easy, but I didn’t call to brag. No. No. Hey, is it okay if Bear goes to a gay bar? A gay bar! Yeah, with other gays. It won’t hurt his chances of getting custody of me? A what? A back room? What’s that? Why not? Okay. Okay. Thanks! Bye.”
He grins at me from my position at the table where Otter’s holding me back. “She says you can go as long as you don’t end up in a seedy back room on your knees. What’s that mean?”
“It’s where they play illegal poker,” Otter says with a straight face.
“Oh,” the Kid says. “Well, I guess that makes sense. I don’t know why Erica wouldn’t tell me what it was. But why would you be playing poker on your knees? Wouldn’t you just sit in a chair?”
“It adds to the mystery and excitement,” I tell him.
“That doesn’t sound like a real thing at all,” the Kid mutters.
“So I’ll call and tell them we’re going?” Otter asks me, his eyes flashing.
“There’s no way in hell I’m going to a gay bar.” I scowl at him. “And that’s final.”
7.
Where Bear Goes to
a Gay Bar
