Alex in Wonderland (The Wonderland Series Book 1) (6 page)

“What’re you doing up here?”

“Just napping and waiting for you. You had a call from home and—”

“Daddy?!” A cold shudder rippled down Alex’s spine.

“Calm down,
bébé
. It was your mother. She was on her cell. I
couldn’t understand everything, but I saved it so you could hear it too.”

Alex replayed the muffled message three times, listening as though his
life depended on it which, in a way, it did. He shook his head. “I still can’t
figure out what she was saying over that damned traffic.”

“Call her.”

“No way. Jedediah will be monitoring the phones and reporting all
caller IDs to Daddy.”

“I assume Jedediah is the faithful family retainer.”

“More like Daddy’s faithful family spy.”

“What about your Mom’s cell phone?”

 
“That’s risky too because Daddy
might be around. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had her phone with him.
I'd put nothing past him, especially after Mom defended me.” He paced the
kitchen. “There’s really nothing I can do except wait to hear from her again.”

“Sounds like you were living under a benevolent reign of terror,” Jolie
ventured.

Alex looked drawn. “I honestly didn’t realize how bad things were until
I left and put things into some kind of perspective. You’re right. Mother and I
are like prisoners in our own home. Free to come and go but with strict
parameters and curfews.” He pounded his fist on the counter top. “If only I
knew what she meant by ‘I’m worried he’s going to.'"

“You don’t have a clue?”

“Not when it comes to my father. The night we met you said he had too
much power for his own good, remember? You’re right. I’ve seen him use it, and
I’m telling you that bastard can be ruthless when it comes to getting what he
wants.”

“So you’re worried that it’ll be aimed in your direction?”

Alex nodded. “It’s my guess that Daddy will do just about anything to
find me and make me marry Camilla.”

“You’re a grown man,” Jolie reminded him. “He can’t
make
you do
anything.”

“You don’t know my father,” Alex muttered glumly.

“Maybe not,” Jolie conceded. “But I do know that my stomach is growling
and that I have a million details to attend to for tomorrow night’s cotillion.”

“Who’s coming out?”

“
You
are, my pet. It’s a gay cotillion in your honor. Your
official unofficial debut. Not that you haven’t been debuting your charms all
over the place these past thirty-six hours. Which reminds me. How was Blondie?”

“Disappointing.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, he was hot enough, but it was more curiosity than anything.

"How so?"

"I’d never been with a blonde before.” He shrugged. "Still
haven’t.”

“I just knew that kid was a bottle blonde,” Jolie chuckled.

“I don't really know because he shaves his body!”

“Ugh!”

“Why do guys do that? Man, if I had a hairy chest I’d be thrilled. I
hate being hairless almost as much as being short.”

“Supposedly bodybuilders started the trend because it shows their
definition better. When the gay boys turned into gym freaks a couple of decades
back, some of them followed suit, and as the eternal gay quest for trendiness
continues, the rest is
histoire
!”

“I guess you're right. I've never seen a hairy chest on the cover of
Men's Health."

"And you probably never will."

Alex frowned. "I used to think all my problems would be solved if
I came out of the closet. Now I find out the gay subculture has all sorts of
weird dos and don'ts. It's all so damned complicated."

"Well, from what I see you're well on your way to getting the hang
of it." Jolie chuckled. "You should pardon the expression."

9

Alex
In
Wonderland

“Well, well. Looks like we’re off to see the Wizard!”

Jolie sipped his champagne and scanned the courtyard with pride. After
discovering all the party stores were closed on Sundays and knowing there were
no such things as cotillion decorations anyway, he made a half dozen calls to
friends and begged anything appropriate for a gay coming-out party. Naturally
that meant total immersion in the rainbow theme. Rainbow beads hung from palms,
hibiscus, jasmine and camellia. Rainbow candles shaped like water lilies
floated alongside the real thing in the lotus pool, totally freaking out the
koi which Jolie announced could get over it. Rainbow lights twinkled in the
bamboo groves and sweet olive trees, and a series of rainbow flags fluttered
from tiki lights that had been resurrected from the gardening shed and pressed
into service as Polynesian flag poles. Thanks to some hastily painted cardboard
strips, garden paths were turned into the yellow brick road.
 

“I hope you like it,
bébé
,” Jolie told Alex. “Even if it does look
like Judy Garland came in here and puked.”

Alex laughed. “Everything but the pot of gold.”

“Oh, ye, of little faith,” Jolie said. “Come along to see the
pièce
de résistance
. Mother of Jefferson Davis! You have no idea what I went
through to get this thing!”

Alex trailed him through the multi-colored madness to a gazebo in a far
corner of the garden. Tucked discreetly behind, at the base of a ten-foot-high
crepe paper rainbow was a portable toilet. Alex didn’t get the joke until he
saw the logo emblazoned on the door: Pot O’ Gold.

“A gay outhouse!” Alex roared with laughter.

“Of course it’s for decorative use only since no self-respecting fairy
would dream of using a portable potty.” He reconsidered. “Well, maybe at a
Madonna concert.”

“Then why is it locked?”

“Because booze can erode one’s self respect, and I’m taking no chances
on some drunken queen mistaking it for the real deal.”

“You’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble, Jolie.” Alex gave him an
affectionate peck on the cheek. “I’m really touched.”

“You’re very welcome, but you may have second thoughts when you get a
load of the guest list. This freak show would give old P.T. Barnum a woody.”

New Orleans is world famous for loving a good time, and nobody parties
heartier than the sizable gay population. Alex’s “cotillion” proved they were
ready to celebrate at the drop of a handkerchief, thanks to Jolie’s simple but
failsafe party planning. He called half a dozen men and told each to call half
a dozen more, and by eight o’clock his courtyard was packed with guys eager to
meet Alex. And each other of course.

“It’s a system that never
fails,” Jolie said with some pride. “If you want the word to get out,
telephone, telegraph and telex, but by all means tell-a-fairy!” He surveyed the
crowd and shook his head. “Although I must say the theme of this party is
skewing off the yellow brick road and slipping down the rabbit hole.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked.

Jolie scanned the noisy crowd. “It’s turning into
Alice in
Wonderland
right before my world-weary eyes!”

Alex looked at his glass. “How much champagne have you had?”

“Not nearly enough.” Jolie flagged the cocktail waiter and swapped his
empty flute for a full one. He took a deep sip, sighed something about
“mother’s milk” and pointed to a tall, slender guy with a buzz cut, voluptuous
lips and enormous, very glassy eyes. “It all began with him. Josh Bergman. One
afternoon, I forget where we were, but a bunch of us fired up a dooby, did a
few tokes and started making up drag names. You know. Kitty Litter. Ramona
Clay. Beth Israel. Terry Dactyl. Rosetta Stone. Gloria Hole. The usual tired
queen stuff. Then someone said he thought Josh looked like a cartoon character.
It took a while before we figured out he’s the caterpillar in
Alice in
Wonderland.
See, he’s got that huge head and that lanky body and that
perpetual cloud of smoke around him. A total pothead. I absolutely adore him
but he hasn’t drawn a grass-free breath in decades.”

The more Alex studied the guy, the more he was reminded of Alice’s
hookah-sucking caterpillar. When Josh caught his eye, he smiled, inhaled deeply
and blew a perfect smoke ring in his direction. Alex broke up. “You’re right!”

“Of course I am. Now can you find the Mad Hatter?” Alex scanned the
crowd and came up with no candidates. “Over there. By the lotus pool. Ken
Calhoun. The poor man has been through every twelve-step program in the state.
And a few in Mississippi and Texas too.”

“What’s the matter with him?”

“He’s addicted to those damned programs,” Jolie said with a shrug and a
sip. “He goes to Alcoholics Anonymous. Sexaholics Anonymous. Shopaholic’s
Anonymous. Scientologists Anonymous. Gamblers Anonymous. Chocaholics Anonymous.
You name it and he’s hooked on it. His doctors have given him all sorts of
drugs for his addictive personality, but he won’t take anything because he’s
afraid he’ll get addicted to the meds too.” Jolie shook his head. “Whew! That’s
probably the most convoluted thing I’ve ever said.”

Alex laughed. “I’m not too thrilled that I understood it either.”

“The sad thing is that Ken’s really a very sweet boy and delicious eye
candy as well, but he never ever dates. He much prefers the solo life
and…ohmigod! It just occurred to me!”

“What?”

“Ken’s even addicted to himself!”

Alex didn’t pursue that. “Any other Wonderland folks?”

“Well, there’s your
dormouse. Jeff Boyd. He doesn’t really look mousy and it’s not really polite of
me to label him because he’s a narcoleptic.”

Alex was horrified. “He screws corpses?!”

“No,
bébé.
That’s a necrophiliac. A narcoleptic is someone who
falls asleep all the time. Can’t help himself. Didn’t you see—?”

“My Own Private Idaho,”
Alex finished. “Of course. Poor River Phoenix was always nodding off, just like
the dormouse at the mad tea party.”

“Very good. Now you’re getting it.” Jolie steered him past the lotus
pool and a thicket of bamboo where he found just what he was looking for.
Standing between two much younger men with an arm around each was a pudgy,
balding, rather nondescript man his late forties. His friends seemed to be
hanging on his every word, smiling and laughing and obviously enjoying
themselves. “Make a guess.”

“The White Rabbit?”

Jolie chuckled. “He’s not here yet. Always late, remember?”

Alex noted the guy’s nonexistent neck. “The Mock Turtle?”

“Try again.” Alex thought a minute and gave up. “That’s Rodney
Milliken, the Queen of Hearts.”

“I’d never have guessed. I mean, he’s not even good looking.”

“Not really.”

“Rich?”

“Comfortable maybe. He’s a pharmacist.”

“Well endowed?”

“Nope.”

Alex was totally buffaloed. “I don’t get it.”

“Well, you may get your chance before the night’s out. Rodney has had
almost every man here, including yours truly, and he gets them the old
fashioned way. He
earns
them. Wins them over is probably a better way to
put it.”

“How?”

“Nothing but pure old-fashioned charm, darling boy. When he turns it on
full-tilt, there are damned few who can resist. I can’t be more specific than
that, but if the guy could ever bottle and sell it he’d be set for life.”

Alex watched as one of the younger guys, a dark-haired hottie with
perfect pecs, ground nuzzled Rodney’s neck. “I’ll be damned.”

“Come along,” Jolie said.
“There’s one more. Or rather two more. I think I saw them near the carriage
way.”

“A pair? Must be Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.”

“Indeed. Actually, I think they were in
Alice Through the Looking
Glass
, but exceptions must be made. Ah! There they are.” Jolie nodded
toward two thirtysomethings dressed exactly alike. Khaki shorts. Tight white
tank tops. Even the same Adidas sneaks. “René and Claude Prejean. Before you
get all freaked out, they’re not brothers, just cousins. From Thibodaux I
believe.”

“Lovers?”

“Since high school they claim,” Jolie said. “But they’ve been, shall we
say, sharing their intimate relationship for years. I’m sure their dirt poor
farm families got rid of two scandals at once when
les hommes Prejean
decided to relocate to New Orleans and bring their incestuous dabbling with
them. They have a very successful little interior design firm across the lake,
decorating for all the white flight folks. Which brings me to a most unusual
feature of their condo in the Warehouse District.”

“Oh?” Alex watched the cousins as Jolie continued.

“It’s beautifully appointed but on the small side, so the boys have
managed to maximize space in a most inspired way. Or maybe I should say they
make their living room do double duty. At first you see only a tasteful room
dominated by two oversized sofas facing each other across a cocktail table.
Very deceptive, you see, because when the table is moved and those sofas are
folded out into beds, they merge into a football field’s worth of mattress,
perfect for those group sleepovers the Prejean boys are so famous for.” Alex
had barely digested that novelty when Jolie added, “And there’s our Cheshire
Cat, big grin and all.”

“Who he?” Alex asked, eyeing a guy about his height with short chestnut
hair and a compact body showcased in snug jeans and a Lafitte’s tee shirt. “Oh,
yeah. I remember him from last night. The bartender. Killer smile and a real
cutie pie.”

“Correct. Joe’s the name and disappearing is the game, always with
someone in tow.”

“Really?”

“I guarantee he’ll leave tonight with someone’s date, boyfriend or
lover. It never fails. Ah, look! Our last guest has arrived and Wonderland is
now complete.”

“The white rabbit?”

“With hair and whiskers to match,” Jolie laughed. “And a wonderfully
pink nose bequeathed by the Goddess Absolut. Come meet Rex Locarno.”

“Wait a minute,” Alex said. “You said all your Wonderland characters
are here, but I don’t see Alice.”

Jolie grinned. “Take a
peek in the looking glass,
mon cheri
!”