“Check this out guys, not only do we have an interview with the same Vegas radio station that kept slamming the door in our faces, but with Jose Mangin at Octane as well,” Chase pointed out.
“Dude, the irony in that.” I ran my hand over the scruff I’d let get out of control. “This is so fucking unbelievable.”
“Looks like we won’t be applying for new jobs when we get home,” David happily pointed out. If I never scrubbed another fucking toilet in my life, I’d die a happy man.
“We will be if we fuck this up,” Seltzer added. “And I’m not eligible for re-hire.”
I’m not sure why, but him saying that had every one of us laughing our asses off for some odd reason. “Sorry man, I know it’s not funny,” I said. “But yet it is.”
Seltzer flipped us off which only fueled our uncontrollable giggle fit. “My fucking clothes still smell like pickles,” he mumbled.
“Great,” David said as he stood. “Now I’m hungry.”
“What’s on tap?” I asked as he pulled the catering tins from the oven.
“Hell yeah, tacos baby!” David announced which had every abled body running for the kitchen. Tacos and pizza were staple items for this group. Simplicity at its finest for these broke ass band boys. Although we weren’t so broke anymore, which had me thinking we needed to do something positive with our new income and find a source of housing for when we returned to Vegas. I loved my mom to death but living with her for an extended period of time wasn’t high on my list.
“Hey guys, I know we’ll be in Seattle for a couple of weeks, but we need to pick a home base. Do we want to stay in Vegas? Los Angeles? Seattle? We made enough money off the Euro tour that we have options now,” I mentioned to the group.
“Vegas is pretty central,” Seltzer said, munching on a chip. “Plus our families are there.”
“Yeah, good call. Do we want to rent a house and the four of us live in it together until we see what happens or does everyone want to go their separate ways?” I wasn’t one to live alone, not including my current situation camped out at Mom’s house, plus it worked well for Seltzer and me as roommates. We could easily get sick of the four of us in the same general vicinity twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week though. Yeah, I’m not sure I could handle that many bodies around.
“I don’t know man,” David said. “Let’s see what happens but it’s definitely something we need to decide sooner rather than later. Not so sure my parents want me crashing at their place for too long. I’d also like to set up time with Mash. I’ve been wanting to get our logo tattooed on my person.” Our mouths were full, but all hands shot up in the air in unison.
Chase yelled, “On it,” as he shot off a text I’m assuming was to Diamond. The only tattoo I had was my dad’s old band logo on my shoulder. The beast was a roughly drawn wolf mid transformation with the four main elements surrounding it — water, fire, earth and wind. My plan was to have our band logo inked beneath it.
“Maybe we could find two houses near each other. You and Seltzer could room and Chase and I could be in the other. Then the spaces won’t be so cramped, but I’m totally down with the house renting either way. I’m sick of apartment life and I’m pretty sure our lives are about to change — like monumentally,” David added. Like I mentioned before, this show would make or break us.
“Yeah, maybe look at some in a gated community. Just in case,” Seltzer added.
“I’ll talk to my mom and have her hook us up with her friend who’s a real estate agent,” I told them.
We spent the remainder of the drive playing games, messing around with some of the lyrics we’d been working on, and talking about the future. Far too amped up to take a catnap. When we pulled up at the venue, all four of us were glued to the blackout tinted windows. Able to see out, but no one could see in. The security guards at the main gate directed our driver around to the back and through the next set of gates to where I swear there were like a million freaking rows of busses.
How did I ever let my boss, Jordan, talk me into working this massive three-day concert in the middle of Nowhere Nevada? In October? In the heat? I never should have told him I had four days off from school, but I needed the extra money. My dream to be an executive chef was so close, I could taste it. Literally and figuratively. Attending the Culinary Academy in Vegas has been a dream of mine since I moved there. Growing up, I loved cooking and baking with my mom. We would endlessly bake during the holidays. Our house had more cookies and cakes than the local bakery did. But then once I came out everything changed, and not for the better.
This event was a big deal for Jordan, winning the bid to cater it against easily a hundred other companies was major. Jordan has been there for me when no one else was so I would be there for him. He has helped so many of us that found ourselves in need of the love and support The Center, Las Vegas’ LGBTQA+ youth shelter, offered. When I first started working for Jordan, I was barely eighteen.
My parents kicked me to the curb the night I graduated high school, literally right after the ceremony. Growing up in rural Utah, effeminate, extremely campy and oh yeah— did I mention Mormon?— didn’t work in my favor. No matter how many times I got my ass beat, both at home and at school, I refused to be something that I’m not. To this day, the sound of a locker door slamming shut sets me on edge. I lost count of how many times I had been stuffed into them. Even though I wasn’t technically eighteen the day I graduated that didn’t stop my father. At his direction, I packed what little I owned into one duffle bag and hitchhiked my way out of there, landing in Vegas. Haven’t heard from my family since. As for friends, never really had any to miss.
Jordan was one of the volunteers and a local catering company business owner who hired those of us old enough to work that lived at the shelter. I heard so many horror stories while I was there. Tales of abuse, worse than mine ever were. At least, in my eyes. Some were forced into a life of prostitution as a medium to survive. Some never made it back from whatever demons they were fighting. While my parents’ words and actions were hurtful, they paled in comparison to what others in the community had endured. Between Jordan and the other volunteers’ connections at the shelter, I was able to get an apartment with three others a couple of months later. It took me the better part of two years to be able to save enough money to go to the academy and not have to work full time while doing so, but I made it. I’ve worked for Jordan for three years now, but he knows my dream is to become a professional executive chef and own my own restaurant. Jordan and I both volunteer at the shelter in our free time; it’s something that personally fills me with a sense of community. A way to give back and pay it forward to those in need, and as a way to thank those who had provided me with guidance and support in my time of need.
I can’t deny that I miss my brothers and sisters terribly though. It kills me that I have no way to talk to them without going through my parents which I’d never get past. I’m the oldest of six, and not a day goes by that I don’t think of something silly I’d done with them. Outside running through the sprinkler during the warm summer months. Playing with the kittens and barn cats we had to keep the mice away. Teaching them to skip stones in the pond on our property. My love of lace, silk and six-inch heels is ultimately what pulled us apart. Seems frivolous that tangible goods could ruin one’s life when the only thing that should be considered is whether someone is a good person or not. Skin color, who you vote for, who you sleep with should never be considerations factored into that equation. It is the decisions you make that mold the person you become and that is what counts. We choose right from wrong. Pure evil will prevail under a false facade while those of us who are genuine, are cast aside. What if it was the other way around and hetero norm was the anomaly? I still choose to believe my brethren would see past that and would only cast judgement upon one’s negative actions. As it should be. There is good and bad in every race, every religion, even in our community and the individual should be judged for their poor choices. The entirety of the group shouldn’t be held accountable for another’s mistake and labeled as such.