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“I am.” Daniel draped the tux over the back of the couch and sat down beside me. “I’m planning to leave partway through the fundraiser and drop in on Brad at the office. If he’s actually there, I want to look devastatingly handsome and claim I came by to bring him some coffee. If he’s out fucking around on me, I want to look devastatingly handsome when I track his ass down and dump him.”
I nodded and told him, “That’s sound logic. Dumping him in a powder blue polyester tux wouldn’t have the same effect.”
“Exactly.” Daniel turned to Hal and asked, “Did you find something to wear tonight?”
“I already had the perfect thing, a puffy wedding dress that I cut up, distressed, and spray-painted. I’m going for a late seventies punk rock meets early eighties Madonna vibe.”
“I can’t wait to see it.” Since he was an aspiring fashion designer, I had no doubt my genderfluid housemate was going to look absolutely amazing.
“The dress is going to slay,” he said. “The only question is whether I should attempt to starch my hair into a big, spiky mohawk.”
Daniel got up and said, “I think we should start pre-gaming with some cocktails. I bet the mohawk starts to seem like an awesome idea after three or four adios motherfuckers.”
As our friend headed to the kitchen, Hal asked me, “Is that a drink?”
“Yes it is, one strong enough to make you question all your life choices.”
The three of us were feeling no pain by the time all my housemates gathered in the living room at a quarter to seven. Everyone had dressed up, and aside from Daniel, we’d all really gone for it with our outfits. Hal was a total show-stopper in the former wedding gown, which he’d transformed into art. So what if his attempted spiky mohawk was listing to one side? Meanwhile, Yolanda was sporting a midnight blue velvet tux, while her wife looked absolutely radiant in a long, red satin dress that hugged her curvy figure.
And then there was Lark and Dylan. “Okay, so it’s less prom and more retro,” Dylan said, in regard to his outfit, “but as a proud Black man, how could I pass up the opportunity to dress up as the original Shaft from 1971?” He was wearing a brown faux leather trench coat with bell bottoms and a turtleneck, along with a stick-on handlebar mustache and platform ankle boots. The latter made him look like he was about two feet taller than his boyfriend Lark, who inexplicably was wearing a rainbow unicorn onesie.
After Dylan tried to explain his choice of costumes, Yolanda shot him a look. “Plus, you already had all of that in your closet, from the movie-themed costume party we threw last fall.”
He nodded and smoothed down his fake mustache. “Correct.”
Yolanda turned to Lark and said, “I know there’s a reason for the footie pajamas with the hood and unicorn horn.”
“There is. I never got to go to the prom in high school. If I had, I would have wanted to dress like my true, authentic self. Since I couldn’t do that back then, I’m doing it now.” I thought that was actually very touching.
We spent several minutes mugging for photos in front of the fireplace, and when someone knocked on the door I yelled, “I’ll get it!”
I flung the door open and instantly burst out laughing. Aleksei was decked out in a burgundy velvet tux that was actually kind of cool, and he’d paired it with a mullet wig with frosted tips, which was hysterical. I held up my phone and snapped his picture as I told him, “That’s completely epic!”
“Thank you. I felt like the tux was a bit too restrained and needed some accessorizing, though I applaud my assistant Maureen for actually finding something in my size on such short notice. I’m not exactly easy to fit.” When he stepped inside, he smiled at me and said, “You look adorable.”
“Thank you. Burnt orange is definitely my color.” As I led him into the living room, I indicated the large shopping bag he was carrying and asked, “What’s that?”
“Seven boutonnieres and seven corsages, for you and your housemates to choose from. I didn’t want to make any assumptions about which variety each of them would prefer.”
After I introduced him to my landladies and Hal, there were squeals of delight at the flowers—mostly from Lark. Once the clear plastic boxes were arranged on the coffee table, I said, “JoJo, you should pick first.”
She raised a perfectly groomed brow and asked, “Why me?”
Lark answered for me. “It’s because you didn’t get to wear a corsage when you were in high school, so you need the best, most beautiful one now.”
We all knew this prom meant a lot to JoJo. In fact, she and her wife had bought their tickets months in advance. She looked emotional as she stepped forward and selected a lovely corsage with white orchids.
