"Hey, can I get a beer and a gin and tonic?" The guy asking had just squeezed himself into the fractional space along the bar next to me.
"What kinda beer, honey?" Asked the bartender, already pouring out the gin and tonic water simultaneously.
"Whatever's good." The man turned toward me; out of the corner of my eye, I could see his eyes dart from my face to the half empty glass of beer in my hand. "Gimme what he's got. And make it two."
The bartender craned his neck to see my glass. Unquestionably able to hear that I'd been drawn into this situation, I raised my glass slightly and said, "Heineken."
"Oh. Oh, no. Cancel that, sweetheart." The man said, leaning his head toward the bartender but keeping his gaze on the side of my face. "Better make it something else, uh..."
He clicked his fingers, trying to remember, before saying, "What's that hoppy one at the end with the lighthouse?"
There was a gentlemanly drawl to his southern accent, the kind that made each syllable a slow and deliberate delicacy. I chanced a glance at him as he waved at the lighthouse shaped tap. He looked back at me briefly and caught my eye as I stared. I quickly turned my gaze back to my beer.
The bartender came back with the beer in two glasses, the froth overflowing, and I dared a second time to watch him as casually as I could while he dealt with the check.
He was a brawny man. Taller than me and had dark curly hair and beard with bright blue eyes. His forearms were hairy, as was his meaty chest and round belly, which were visible through the striped button down he wore open. If I asked Josh, I bet he'd tell me this guy was a 'bear.' For his bottoms, he was wearing only a bright red speedo.
"Here you go, darlin'," he said when the transaction was complete and he slid one of the beer glasses over to me. "This one's for you. Trust me, it's better than whatever you believe you're gettin' outta that piss." He nodded toward my glass.
I turned, finally, to face him. "Hey, listen. I'm not..."
"Darlin', I don't really care what you're about to say," he leaned in closer and tapped me delicately on the nose, "just try the beer and tell me that's not better."
I was taken aback by the bold move, and he just stood there with a playful and expectant expression on his face. Up close, I could see that his face was well groomed. There was not a curl out of place nor a beard hair astray. A pearl dangled from his right ear and he wore a thin gold chain with a pendant I couldn't quite see. It lay partially obscured by his copious chest hair. But it was his eyes that held me captive for that brief moment. They were just so blue.
"I... I..." I let out an exhale when I couldn't find the next words, and I reached for the beer.
Turns out, it was definitely a better beer than the Heineken.
"You see, darlin'?" He said, not even waiting for my response. Then he blew me a kiss before whisking away with his drinks in hand. I watched him blend back into the crowd of similarly dressed men before turning back to the bar to sip my new beer.
The weekend was just getting started and already I was regretting having come. Random gay men don't buy me drinks at home.
"There you are!" Josh's voice came suddenly from my left and I jumped. "We've been looking for you for like ten minutes!"
My brother was dressed in even less clothing than the burly man who bought me the beer. His white jock strap, white chest harness and flowing white veil marked him as the blushing groom for our bachelor party weekend.
"What are you doing, hiding all the way over here?"
"I'm not hiding," I fired back half-heartedly.
"Yes, you are! The bar is for you to get drinks, flirt with the bartender, and leave!" He produced a bright white fan out of nowhere and clacked it hard on the last word. His gaggle of groomsmen all hooted and hollered at this. Each one dressed in a hot pink speedo with matching pink harness. The uniform for our group tonight, which I was indeed wearing, but still had covered by a pair of cargo shorts and a black tee, having literally never been so exposed in public before.
"Well I'm definitely not here to flirt with the bartender," I said into my beer, taking an embarrassed sip.
"Obviously," Josh said bitingly as he eyed my clothes with disdain, before switching tact. "Come on, big bro! You promised you'd be a part of the fun this weekend. You promised you'd try!"
"Yeah, Dan! Come on!" One of the other groomsmen joined in.
"Let's go, party boy!" Called another, reaching forward and scooping my nipple through my shirt. I flinched in response and the thin redhead giggled together with the others.
Josh put an arm around my shoulders to turn me away from his friends' taunting.
"Come on, Dan," he began in a sweetened brotherly tone. "It's just this weekend. Then you can go back to your Call of Duty crew or whatever you call those video game friends of yours."
"I just call them friends."
"Whatever," he said dismissively. "That's not the point."
I sighed.
"I know. I know."
"Ok, so you'll brighten up a bit?" Josh said hopefully. He hitched a searching smile that I knew to be sincere.
"I... oh, alright," I conceded.
"Yay!" He clapped his hands quickly and pressed his advantage. "So you'll take off these horridly straight clothes now, right?"
"Definitely not, little bro."
"But we're doing a whole thing!" Josh pouted.
"I have never been anywhere in public dressed like you guys." I swung my hand broadly at the sea of flesh churning with the music around us.
"Well then don't think about this as public!" He draped an arm around my shoulder again and gestured at the same crowd with the air of one fox showing another how the latch of the hen house worked. "None of those people know who you are. Isn't that brilliant?"
"How's that supposed to make me feel any more comfortable walking around in a bright pink speedo?"
"Because, big bro, that means you can play a character." Josh thumped me on the chest with that foxish grin, but I still didn't get it. My face must have shown it because he rolled his eyes.
"Tonight you're not 'Dan,' okay?" He sketched air quotes around my name. "Tonight - you're 'Danny'!" Jazz hands.
I blinked.
"What I mean is you have nothing to be afraid of with all these guys out here. You don't know them, they don't know you. You can be whoever you want to be and no one will know the difference! That's what queer spaces are all about. So, how about tonight, you pretend to be just a little more gay and a little less..." He waved a limp-wristed circle at me.
"Less what?" I said flatly.
"Tragically straight." He deadpanned.
"Ouch."
"You know what I mean! Ugh!" Josh squared off in front of me and fixed me with that all-business stare he got from our mom. "Look, how about this. You pretend, or do whatever you gotta do to convince me and all these other bitches" another sweep at the writhing mass of muscled men "that this weekend, you're here to have a gay ol' time, just like the rest of us. And next month, I'll join your team for that COD tournament you keep talking about."
Now, that made me pause. Flamboyant as my younger brother may be, strutting around here in his jock strap and bridal veil, he was the best goddamn Call of Duty player I'd ever seen. I couldn't tell you how he got that good, if I'm honest, and none of my buddies ever believed me when I told them he was. But when Josh sits down in that chair, patches into the comms and gets in the zone, he's damn near unstoppable.
Until now, though, he'd never agreed to play with us in our tournaments. It's been such a shame to see his talent wasted, since he never likes to play in groups (something about "toxic masculinity" or whatever). But now, maybe we could actually have a shot at the prize money!
"Well?" He could see my gears turning. "Do we have a deal or not, bro?"
"O- okay," I said tentatively. He cocked his head and I strengthened my voice. "Yes. Fine. Alright!"
"YASSSSS!" Came a loud call in my ear. One of his other groomsmen - Benji - had obviously been listening to the dealmaking. I jumped, but Josh smiled broadly and joined in.
"Yas! It's 'Danny' time!" He clacked his fan again as the other groomsmen rushed toward me.
"Come on, let's get you more comfortable!" Craig - one of Josh's more muscly friends grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it upward. I sighed and reluctantly raised my arms to let him take it off me. A deal's a deal, I guess.
I did grab his hands to stop him undoing the button to my cargo shorts, though.
"I can get these myself," I said warningly.
Craig raised his hands and stepped slightly backward, "Hey, you do you, love. But hand them over and I'll take them to the coat check."
I undid the button and unzipped the fly, slipping the shorts down my legs slowly and keeping my hands covering the bulge I knew to be on full display now that I was down to just the speedo and harness.
"Damn, Josh!" I heard Allan, the shortest of the group, loudly club-whisper in my brother's ear. "I didn't know your brother was so hung!"
I felt my face turn red and I turned my body away from them just as I heard Josh reply severely, "Ew! Down dog," he dipped his fingers in his drink and flicked them at Allan, "off limits, you hear!"
I didn't catch Allan's response, which was drowned out by the music, but in the mirror behind the bar I could see him raise his hands in mock defeat, though his eyes very obviously roamed down to my pink-clad ass.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My short cropped hair was hard to mess up, so I seemed well-enough groomed. And at least I'd shaved before coming out tonight. The harness cut into my underarms a bit and I fiddled with the straps to get them in a more comfortable position.
"Looking good!" Benji yelled behind me; I turned to look at him. "Seriously! I didn't know you could get arms like that playing video games all day."
"You can't," I said, not really picking up on the banter. "I'm a landscaper, I do a lot of physical stuff during the day."
"Well, it definitely shows." He gave me a quick wink. "Now we just gotta wax you up from clavicle to panty-line, suck it in a little, and we'll be good to go!"
