Mojo - 28. Chapter 26: “I Got You, Babe,” Part One

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Chapter 26: “I Got You, Babe,” Part One

I had to stop and adjust my pantyhose.

Sadeeq, walking two paces behind me, said, “That’s not very ladylike.”

“Fuck you” was my reply. “Why do we have to go so public anyway?”

“Simple. Hiding in plain sight makes you invisible. Now, shall we?” He extended the crook of his arm. I took it, and we strode into the ship’s main lounge for breakfast.

As the pair of us stepped leisurely to the buffet, Sadeeq’s hand slipped down my waist to settle objectifyingly on my upper ass.

I removed it.

“What…?” the poet asked mildly. “Just trying to blend in. Plus, you better get used to this kind of treatment, now that you’re a….” He let the final word trail off.

“A lady!” I said, and grabbed a plate to start looking over the scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon. My mind was awash with uncertainty concerning this new and unwanted situation. Last night, it turned out the mad poet’s idea was – just as he’d reminded me – to conceal ourselves out in the open, as women. I’d never done drag before, and as I scooped some eggs, I mused how most straight women assume Gay men have closets of finery we flit about in when no one’s looking. I selected some pork links. Last night had been something of a flap: first Sadeeq needing to convince us of the soundness of his idea, and then a squadron of his fey Filipino friends transforming me and my boy. I resisted tooth and nail their wanting to shave my eyebrows, but in the end, they won, and now I have to admit the rakish, pencil-thin, black-liner brows really change the shape of my face. I selected a slice of toast, glancing around the room; I’d never been so nervous about acting ‘normal’ before.

Just as I dabbed a spoonful of jam on my plate, I tensed up, feeling my nuts get squashed again. I wanted to slam my food down, pull and yank the bindings free right then and there…but I didn’t. Instead, the fake smile I had plastered on for Sadeeq became a real one when I considered how Gordon was still back in the cabin, getting the finishing touches of his ‘look’ done by the poet’s flamboyant friends.

Sadeeq led us to a table – his hand on my ass, again – and we sat down.

I snapped my napkin and used it to cover my crotch while I tugged on the polyester torture device to finally get some relief. As I picked up my fork, I told the poet honestly, “We should’ve run the boat aground.”

“Don’t be silly.”

I rocked back on my chair. “Don’t be silly?! Look at me.”

Sadeeq speared one of my sausage links. “What? You look hot, babe. Good tits, nice ass; you’re as qualified as any woman in Trump’s America could be.”

Suddenly Lloyd and Trọng were there; waiters stood behind them holding food plates.

Lloyd greeted Sadeeq with a chin bob. “Hello, old friend. I’m pleased you could join us on our little excursion south after all.”

The poet grinned, cool as a watermelon. “Wouldn’t miss a trip like this for the world, Lloyd, ole buddy.”

I started to fumble with my purse, and was relieved to find a rhinestone-encrusted compact there. I pulled it out to appear self-absorbed and busy, but accidentally caught a glimpse of my worried expression. I was glad one of the crew lent me some violet-colored contacts.

Still looking in the mirror, I heard Trọng ask, “Mind if we join you?”

I panicked; surely Sadeeq would send them away.

“No, please do!” said the poet happily.

Lloyd and Trọng sat down. The food was set before them, and now to my continuing horror, I recognized one of the waiters as that redheaded psycho Popeye from the ferry and flea market!

I glanced around, and sure enough, this boy’s insane junior officer boyfriend was similarly dressed and bussing tables. His jerky movements and ugly scowl told me he was just as surly as ever.

‘No doubt,’ I considered, ‘they want their revenge for the Rose Bowl fiasco. What are the odds they’d be on this boat too…?’

Lloyd’s typically resonant tones sounded while he inquired of Sadeeq, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your lovely companion?”

I thrust a ladylike hand for the sexy sea captain to take. “Why, it’s an outright pleasure to be making y’all’s acquaintances, I do declare – y’all.” On the spot I had decided to put on an outrageous mush-mouth Southern accent to hide my naturally beautiful one, however, I sounded more like Foghorn Leghorn channeling Carol Channing.

Lloyd, the real corny type, kissed the back of my hand. As I withdrew it, I could tell the Vietnamese guy had been goaded into some mild jealousy.

After a moment of silence, with the newcomers looking expectantly at me and Sadeeq, Trọng finally asked, “And your name? Didn’t catch it.”

I opened my mouth to rattle off something sweet and forgettable – something ending in ‘Smith’ – when Sadeeq interrupted.

“Polly. Her name is Polly Aenus.”

All at the table were astounded, including me….

Sadeeq casually took a bite of scrambled eggs. “Stage name,” he explained. “Her and her wife are female female-impersonators.”

I drained my mimosa.

“A female female-impersonator?” Lloyd asked.

“A woman playing…. A woman?” Trọng seconded the query.

I smiled, sat back and let Sadeeq go over the details.

“Sure! Her and the missus have studied the art of being a woman from all the best drag queens in the world, and they carry it onto the stage.”

‘That’s not what I was thinking at all.’

Lloyd and Trọng glanced at one another. “Really?” they asked simultaneously.

Sadeeq crunched on the end of a bacon stick. “Absooolutly. I hear it’s exactly what Lady Gaga and Maggie Thatcher did. Learn from the masters, right, Polly?”

I tried to chuckle. “Saq – sweet pea – you know it’s not quite true. I—”

“Oh, yes. I see what you mean. Obviously, Martha Stewart studied drag too – what else could explain her.”

“Hmmmm,” I cleared my throat. Although the notion that someone like Angela Merkel could use lessons on the finer points of femininity stuck me as highly plausible, I wasn’t sure where the mad poet was leading all this.

“Oh, yeah; oh, yeah,” Sadeeq added excitedly. “Actually, Polly’s ball-n-chain is what they call a Drag King – a girl who’s studied the macho arts. You know, from the likes of Steven Seagal, Paul Ryan and Mr. T; them types.”

“Fascinating,” said a stunned Lloyd.

I smiled and nodded at our table-guests, stealing Sadeeq’s mimosa and draining it too. The sight of the lipstick on the glass startled me. ‘Maybe time to dig in my purse again,’ I wondered.

“So…?” Trọng said inquisitively. “You were hired as lounge acts. How interesting.”

“Yes,” added Lloyd. “We look forward to seeing you perform tonight.”

Sadeeq piped up: “Me too!”

Gott im Himmel, I could have killed him.

Lloyd picked up his napkin and gestured towards my plate. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

The four of us settled down to our food, and I wished to melt away like butter in a muffin. The redhead sailor was standing by Lloyd when the sea captain said to him, “Get more mimosas for Sadeeq, and Ms. Aenus.” He then chatted with us. “How are you liking the cruise so far? We’ve had fair weather and calm seas.”

“Indeed,” replied the poet.

“Yes. Sturdy as a rock,” said the captain with pride, “She’s a fine old dame, and they don’t build ‘em like this anymore. The Ekdíkisi had her keel laid in 1977, only she was christened as the S.S. Gerald Ford back then.”

“Really?!” asked Sadeeq with false enthusiasm.

…I had a vague recollection about it being bad luck to rename a vessel….

“It’s true. I rescued her after the President Line sold her to a San Diego scrapping outfit.”

“Yes, sweetheart. And then poured ten million dollars into interior renovations to make the old gal look wrinkle free. If only every ‘fine old lady’ could be gussied up with a mil or two.” He chuckled vainly. “But we’re not talking about Doris anymore, are we?”

After a tepid grin, Lloyd leaned forward a bit towards us. Lowering his tone, he asked, “Just wondering, but have either of you seen suspicious characters on board?”

“Oh, yes!” confirmed Trọng. “Two in particular. A lovely, sexy teen boy with wavy hair, and a sauerbraten Kraut with surly lip, mousy brown hair and bile-colored eyes.”

‘Hey!’ I thought. ‘That doesn’t sound like yours truly at all….’

Just then, I turned and made accidental eye contact with Tanguay as he was setting my glass down. After that, he stood behind Lloyd and glared at me suspiciously.

“We’ll keep our peepers peeled,” Sadeeq assured them. “But tell me – what’d they do? Must have been something awful.” He stroked his ponytail and pivoted his glance on me.

Lloyd appeared pained by the subject, but willing to explain how I’d accidentally outed him on television, however, Trọng laid a hand on his arm and snapped Lloyd out of it.

The drug lord frowned and divided attention between me and Sadeeq. “Let’s just say, we need to have a serious talk with those two scoundrels.” He cracked his knuckles.

“Don’t excite yourself, dear. We know they’re on board – they will be delivered unto us.”

“How do – y’all – know?” I asked.

The sea captain bobbed his manly chin at Sadeeq. “Tell me, poet, do you believe in dreams?”

“What do you mean by believe?”

The couple glanced at one another for a second, as if seeking and granting permission for the other to speak freely.

“I have dreamed this four times, poet. Most recently just last night,” said Lloyd. “Tell me what you think.

“It always starts with fog. I’m cold, wet and afraid, trying to get away from something off the stern of my rowboat on the sea. Just then, the mist fades away and I can see the Statue of Liberty rising about a quarter mile behind me. It’s her I was running from. As I watch – right before my eyes, as they say – the copper-clad goddess with all her folds of drapery transforms into the awesomely lean and naked form of Poseidon; he’s still the same ravishing verdigris color though.

“The god comes to life, lowering his head to look straight at me. He opens his mouth, and the air around me vibrates with his mighty, electric tones. ‘Woe betide the man who let My image be defiled by unclean hands; allowed my holy shrine be defiled and robbed.’

“Just then, as if in slow motion, the god crouches down on the massive stone pedestal, and uses his trident to touch the sea. Three times, he rakes the tines through the waves, and three times, the ocean becomes more violent and infuriated.

“Again his eyes fall upon me. ‘The villain you seek has been led aboard your flagship vessel. Go and consign his earthly form to my depths, or—’

“Then my dream ends; I wake in a cold sweat.”

“Oh, my darling,” cooed Trọng, “our visions are so similar, you’d have thought we slept the same sleep together, not merely in the same bed.

“My dream starts with me roving barefoot in the woods, the sunlight strobing on my face cubed by the leaves overhead.

“Suddenly, I hear a scream and go towards it. Under the shadows of a grove of poplars, I find a white bunny in a cruel snare. I release the poor, frightened thing and hold it tight, stroking it and saying all will be made right.

“Just then, I hear a twig snap. Behind me stands The Blue-Green One, his disheveled hair and slightly soiled cheeks leave me in no doubt as to who he is – that and his enormous schlong, obviously.

“Anywho – I say, ‘Oh, Great God, why show thy presence to humble little me?’

“’Look again,’ he says and gestures.

“The place he bids me look is down, and the rabbit in my arms is the lovely Gordon – my Gordon.

“As I stroke his curly hair, Priapus tells me: ‘Know this, in your search for the boy you love, I have entrapped him on Lloyd’s main ship.’

“I awake with a smile and sweet, sweet desire; The God’s ultimate gift.”

‘Brazen hussy,’ I think, ‘lusting after another’s pet….’ But I had to admit I was freakishly enthralled to hear another describe the dark, dirty face that visits me. Only when he comes to me, it’s with the intent to torment.

Sadeeq finished the last of his eggs and placed the cutlery noisily on his china.

“Well,” asked Lloyd. “What do you think?”

“About dreams?” said Sadeeq dismissively. “I think they are merely vague remembrances. Yes, the residual electrical activity of a tired brain. That’s all.”

Trọng asked, “Don’t you trust in signs, or portents of the future?”

“From above?” The poet sputtered with a frown. “No. The gods are so distant, they are hardly a concern. Now, man’s avaricious nature – that, as they say, is an ever clear and present danger. As for somnambulatory visions, I say:

“No message from the gods are our dreams –

More like upset stomach troubling

Our erstwhile indifferent night slumbers.

 

When sleep comes to lift our burdens,

It's neither Heaven nor Hell that 'sees,'

But every chest reliving what it needs.

 

Whatever 'tis in which we take delight,

And think of most by day, we dream at night.

 

Soldiers and boys with video games

Slaughter at night as much as at day –

Dreading a bullet will bite their frame.

 

Panhandlers and lawyers alike plead

Their case in public opinion's court,

Knowing everyone judges them wrong.

 

Conscience's plain, half-drowned in blood afar,

Comes to those who by day noised it at the bar.

 

Bankers and elected men count coins

And ferret out where to hide it best –

Offshore accounts or money schemes.

 

Stockbrokers dream of crashes and falls

Whereby the richer only get more

To stamp the little man in the ground.

 

These soulless types are the worst among men,

Thinking God it's blesses them and their ken.

 

And so thus dogs will run in their sleep,

And the hunter too, if I'm honest –

Pursuing the hare through the dark woods.

 

While other sports fill the lonely head;

The hard-up only find what's not there,

Looking for sex in all the wrong spots.

 

Thus the good wife dreaming of her stallion's charms,

Oft seeks pleasure in her cuckold husband's arms.”[1]

I stood up, having taken all I could stand.

Lloyd rose to his feet as well, like a true gentleman, while Sadeeq simply continued munching his toast.

Singsong, I sang: “It was certifiable pleasure, I’m sure, to make y’all’s acquaintances, but I must be off, to…um—”

“Rehearsal for tonight, Polly,” the poet added most unhelpfully.

“Yes. Rehearsal. It was a pleasure to meet you, all – y’all.”

I saw Trọng react to my voice like he was trying to place something familiar.

Distracted, I felt someone assist with my chair by pulling it out of my way. I smiled and turned straight into the face of the fanatical Caribbean sailor. The man also seemed to spark with a dim recognition.

I quickly made my way to the door, as ladylike as my pinched testicles would allow.

“Oh, thank God." I hooked onto Gordon’s arm just as he was about to enter the lounge.

“But, I’m hungry,” he cried as I dragged him in the other direction.

“We’ll go someplace else. Lloyd and Trọng are in there.”

As we walked down the corridor, away from a roomful of danger, I started to chuckle.

“What?”

“Your getty-up. It’s…adorable.”

And indeed it was. My handsome boyfriend had been transformed into a butch boi – a drag king of the sweetest description.

Clothes of vaguely 1970s vintage flare made him seem like a Filipino fembot. But his cutest aspects were how his naturally wavy hair had been teased and sprayed into near-Afro proportions. A little eyeliner and blush softened his facial features, while a mascara ‘stache rounded out the Shakespearean liminality – that is, the out and out gender-fuck – of a man playing a woman playing a man.

I kissed my ‘wife,’ feeling blessed.

˚˚˚˚˚

After we got Gordon some food, we spent hours hiding out in the loneliest place on any cruise ship: the library. Not a soul bothered us, and we began to feel a little more optimistic.

At about four o’clock we decided it was as good a time as any to sneak below decks again. We made our way casually along one of the cabin levels. With no one watching, we ducked through a service door used by the maids for bedlinens.

As we walked into the abandoned staging area where the commercial laundry baskets on wheels lined up, I tugged on Gordon’s sleeve to halt him.

“I need to talk to you about something. It can’t—”

Gordon stopped up my mouth, whispering, “Listen.”

Our luck sprung again, and sure enough, it was the voice of Hesus, the mad sailor, talking to his redheaded partner.

We quickly assessed they were coming out way. I removed Gordon’s hand from my face. “What do we do?”

“Hide!” He picked up sheets and buried himself in a basket.

I hiked up my pantyhose – which had become surprisingly supportive and ‘refreshing’ – and climbed into the neighboring cart.

In a second, I was totally covered and regulated my breath as our enemies’ voices drew nearer.

They stopped by our baskets, with Tanguay saying, “Hold on, Hesus, ve need to talk about those losers on this here woyage before ve get on deck again.”

“Oh,” said Hesus, “I’m a-keepin’ my eyes on the alleged woman-impersonator. Something fishy – or, more than supposed to be fishy – if ya catch me drift.”

“I do. But Captain Lloyd’s telling all this wessel’s crew to be on the lookout made him up his bounty to five grand, a head!”

“Oh, my boy, I’m spittin’ mad all right. Them two water varmints got us sacked from the Mrs. Jared Kushner for a-brawlin’ with passengers. And look at us now! Sunk to the lowest rank of sea-work – waiters on a cruise ship. Humiliatin’!”

“There, there, love,” the hothead redhead cooed. “Ve’ll get back on our feet soon as ve put things right again. Ve’re awaiting Poseidon’s werdict to see which vay his wendetta goes. But one thing’s certain – as long as those two are on board, ve’re all in danger.”

(to be continued….)