Page 42 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

His eyes narrow, and he drives a finger into my chest. “Now, you listen to me. I have waited long enough. I love you, Miles. I’ve loved you all my life, and I’m not letting you ruin this because you’re scared of losing your church.” He points at the clothes in my hand. “Go get dressed. I’m taking you somewhere.”

I arch an eyebrow at him. “Where?”

“If I told you, that would defeat the purpose. Go get dressed. I won’t tell you again.” He reaches for the handsaw and gives me a terrifying grin. “Tick-tock, Daddy.”

Sighing, I close my eyes. “Fine.”

It takes me five minutes to get changed, and when I return to my bedroom, Dare is sitting beside Mal on the bed, holding a can of soda in front of her face as she sips from a straw. They don’t notice me yet, so I lean against the door frame, watching them in silence.

“I promise we won’t be long,” he whispers. It’s the kindest tone I’ve ever heard him take with her. “And I’ll untie your arms if you want.”

She shakes her head. “I’m comfortable enough. It’s fine.”

“I brought my laptop. Loaded up a bunch of funny videos I thought you might enjoy.”

Her lip tugs into a smile. “That was sweet of you. Thank you, Darren.”

Dare’s cheeks grow red. To my surprise—and to Mal’s, judging by her quick gasp—he leans in and gives her a hug. Engulfed by Darren, Mal spots me in the doorway, and her smile goes just a bit wider.

“I’m ready,” I say, getting his attention. He quickly launches off the bed, looking embarrassed at being caught hugging his alleged archnemesis.

“Alright,” he squeaks, not meeting my eyes. “Let’s do this then.”

chapter sixteen

“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,” Miles growls, his fake mustache clinging to his upper lip for dear life. “I can’t believe you brought me to a dang gay bar.” The corner of his fake mustache slips,and I reach up, pressing it back to his skin, letting the adhesive bond again. During the ride to Manhole, the closest gay bar to Tallulah, Texas, I had to reglue it to his upper lip twice. The ridiculous blond wig I picked out for him makes him look like something out of a low-budget soap opera, but that’s fine. The more ridiculous he looks, the less likely he is to be noticed, and that’s the entire point. I planned this knowing Miles wouldn’t be super comfortable in a gay bar, worrying someone might notice him, so the costumes were a must. Luckily, Party Planet is open year-round and has the best wigs this side of Dallas. Okay, maybe that’s not true, but who cares? This is my internal monologue, and if I want to embellish for emphasis, I will. Fucking sue me.

As for me, I’m wearing a red wig and glasses, bearing a striking resemblance to famed 90’s talk show host, Sally Jesse Raphael. Did I need to disguise myself too? No. But I’m gay, and the gays love a good wig.

When Miles took Mallory’s hand at church, leaving me alone in my heartbreak, I thought it might end me. Then I realized that was just stupid. Because this is Miles, and Miles loves me. He’s just scared. He’s fucking terrified of giving up everything, and I get that. After so many years of hearing people telling him gays were devilish degenerates, he probably has a warped view of what gay life is really like. Tonight, I plan to give him a front-row viewing.

The bar is packed, and twinks, twunks, bears, and daddies line the dancefloor, all watching as local drag legend Sukki Cox prances around on the stage ahead, miming to an old Cher song. Miles and I are front and center, right below her. Miles nuzzles closer to me. He’s shaking, and that makes me bummed, because I want him to enjoy himself. Every gay man should have the chance to experience a drag show without worrying about their eternal soul being damned in the process. At least,that’s what I assume his issue is. Unfortunately, that assumption proves wrong when he leans in and whispers, “They shouldn’t be performing sexually suggestive choreography in front of impressionable minds.”

I turn and glare at him. “We’re going to have to work on that internalized homophobia.” I inconspicuously motion around the room with my finger. “Do you see any children here?” Miles nods and points at a short man who’s knocking back a Red Bull across the bar. The guy is wearing a onesie and has a coloring book and two crayons in his hand. “For God’s sake, he’s not a child, he’s a little.”

Miles stares at me, dumbfounded. “He’s a little what?”

“No, I just mean he’s into age play. He’s a sweet guy. You’d like him.”

“Age play? What does that even mean? You know I don’t know all this gay lingo.”

I snort a laugh. “Who the hell are you telling? It took me half a fucking hour to teach you the difference between bisexuality and pansexuality, and if I’m being completely honest, I’m still not sure you’re one-hundred percent clear.”

“I’m trying, Dare. I’ve been in the church all my life, so I never got the chance to learn all this stuff like you did at college.” He stares down at the glass of soda he ordered from the bar, watered down from melted ice cubes, and I’m pretty sure there’s a pubic hair on the rim. “I’m scared.” The hand not holding his pube-spiced Coke slips into mine, our fingers weaving together, and he gives me a squeeze. There are cracks in his heart. I know, because it’s written all over his face. So, I place my hand on his cheek, and I touch our foreheads together.

“When I got to your window and saw the bars—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. “I’m so sorry. Everything’s happening so fast and I feel like I can’t catch my breath. I just needed some space.”

“Away from me?”

He breathes slowly, pulling his forehead away and studying my face. “I thought I did.”

“And now?”

He swallows, and after an uncomfortable moment of silence, he says, “I’m still not sure.”

The pain must be clear on my face because he quickly shakes his head. “I just need a little time to breathe, and to figure out what comes next. If I do this, I lose everything. I’ll lose my home. I’ll lose the church, Dare.” His jaw trembles. “I don’t know who I am without the church.” A tear falls down his cheek. “Who am I outside of God’s light?”

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