Mojo - 29. Chapter 26: “I Got You, Babe,” Part Two

.

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

Back in the cabin, I ripped off my wig. Pacing, I told Gordon, “I think you were right, honey. Why don’t I ever listen to you…? We should just steal a boat and be done with it. Plus, if we pull it off, it’s good opportunity to dump Sadeeq.”

My boyfriend, the voice of reason, halted my step. “It will never work. Even if we get one of the lifeboats to lower and shove off, this ship will stop until the ‘rescue party’ hauls us back. I think we should stay in the cabin until the Ekdíkisi docks. Sadeeq can bring us food.”

I took his hands and led us to sit on the bed. “Look, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. This, god, Priapus – well, not only did he hex my prick, but he visits me in my sleep.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I intercepted and pressed on.

“I know, I know; just dreams. But last night, this is what happened.

“I dreamt I was in this secluded desert, looking for you, desperate and lonely. The sun struck my dry eyes, but then from one corner appeared this mini cyclone; a sand devil, I think they call it.

“It moved towards me, but I had nowhere to hide, so ran. It gained on me and sucked me up. Spinning around and around, I heard ‘His’ voice – gruff and rustic. He said awful things, about you, sweetheart, the gist of which is that you only loved me for my, um, potency, and now that it’s gone, so is your affection.

“Anyway, this is where it gets weird, because the dust devil thing ends and puts me down on top of a craggy mountain overlooking the desert. I can see for miles and miles.

“Hearing a noise, I turn, and there is the Dirty One himself with a hand on your shoulder, and a giant bag of money in his other hand. Oddly enough, I realize we are standing by the corner of a church, and look up to see its bells ringing.

“His voice makes me look down again. ‘Choose,’ he tells me.

“And then I wake up in a cold sweat.”

Gordon hugged me. “You don’t have to – it is just a dream, Kohl. Just a silly…silly, dream.” He tenderly kissed the side of my neck.

“We have to find a cure for me, Gordon.”

There was an abrupt noise at the door. We jumped up, and I armed myself with the nearest ‘weapon’ – a giant hand mirror.

The door burst open, knocking the mirror out of my hand anyway. Behind it was Sadeeq, and he’d brought a small army of Filipinos. Draped over the arms of one was a long white dress, beautifully fringed and beaded.

Sadeeq said, “Come on, time to change. Chop, chop! No time to lose.”

“Poet—” I started.

“That crafty Trọng is already suspicious. There’s no other way”—the social media celebrity smeared on a sly grin—“you’ll just have to trust me.”

˚˚˚˚˚

Be-feathered showgirls high-kicked it while a lounge-lizard type of guy in white tails sang on stage.

In the wings, I could peek out through the heavy side drapes and see the auditorium had been transformed. Now small tables with lamps were peppered with small parties of people, including Sadeeq, Lloyd and Trọng at one front and center. The "maximum occupancy" count for the lounge was about 300, and a good 250 – or most of the passengers – were out there having fun.

Another scan of the room showed me those two sailor-waiters moving about serving drinks, and eying passengers suspiciously.

Gordon touched my arm; he had wise words to offer. “We’ve done this a million times at karaoke. Just relax, enjoy the moment, and it will all be over soon.”

“I’m worried it’s us who’ll be ‘all over soon’ – all over the deck boards after the crazy drug lord puts a bullet through our heads.”

Gordon smirked. “Always seeing the bright side, huh?”

The showgirls were gathering for their finale: a kick-line is guaranteed to generate applause. The backstage area was crowded with as many of Sadeeq’s maid and steward friends as could get off duty. They were here to see their handiwork – me and Gordon – perform.

The music crescendoed; people clapped; the feathered headdresses curtsied; and my nerves ratcheted up a notch. They trooped offstage on the other side.

Gordon took my hand just as the MC announced: “And now, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the Omonoia Room of Neptune’s Ekdíkisi, Polly Aenus and Spike Hardfist doing a dear old standby.”

Applause rang out and I was suddenly seized with the realization that they were for me and my boy. Effortlessly, I snapped into character. I was gorgeous in my white gown, so I tossed back my long black hair, and whipped my microphone cord like a pro. I gave Gordon a wink and croaked: “Shall we,” applying tongue firmly to upper lip.

We strode onto stage like we owned it. And why not? We were all that, and a natural smile came to me regarding my cute boyfriend in his Beatles wig and monkey’s foot mustache. He wore a vintage wine-colored tux with huge lapels, and a big floppy bowtie.

While the ovation was still going on, the music started, and me and my boy assumed the positions – moving our feet and bodies rhythmically to the sway of the music, and glancing at one another adoringly.

Gordon was right; we had sung “I Got You, Babe” a million and a half times together, because it was our song.

We sang the words and got lost in the realness of the emotions, and before we knew it, our hands were joined, we drew near and ended on a high note, staring straight into one another’s eyes.

The music ended in raucous applause – some of it coming from the assembled showgirls and Filipinos in the wings.

We kissed, and Gordon said in his natural voice, “I love you, Kohl.”

“And I love you, babe.”

At first I was too distracted to notice a vengeful Trọng rise and point with his full arm.

“It’s them!”

The clapping ground to a halt.

Glancing at Gordon, I hiked my skirt and mic cord, and we hoofed it.

The Filipino crewmembers and dancing girls shrieked together and piled onto the stage.

Bedlam followed as me and my boy ran for the nearest door. However, the sailor couple headed us off, and hauled us back in arm-locks to the dance floor in front of the stage.

Lloyd, Trọng and Sadeeq stood there waiting. The poet tried to ham up the shocked and dismayed routine at our deception. The drug lord turned to him. “Don’t pretend you’re not a part of this.”

Trọng shoved the poet to the ‘wrong’ side – to stand next to me and Gordon.

A soon as he got there, Sadeeq pointed at me, shouting: “It was his idea!”

No one paid him any attention, but all eyes wandered to Lloyd to see what he’d do. Hesus restrained me tighter. The drug lord walked up to me, eyed me coldly for a moment, and then gripped my package through my Bob-Mackie beading.

“Hello, Kohl. I’d recognize your dick anywhere.”

And true, when it still worked, I’d discovered Lloyd was hardly the ‘total top’ I’d imagined. Instead, he’d worshiped my Schwanz many a Catalina night on his knees. I glanced at Gordon for a moment because that was something I didn’t want him to necessarily know.

I broke out of the Caribbean sailor’s grip. “Evening, Lloyd; Trọng. Nice to see you again.”

The Vietnamese guy advanced with ire. “Is that all you have to say?! After you humiliated us; after you…. Did what you did to Lloyd! OMG.”

“Let’s play nice,” I said, “like old times. What do you say? We were good friends once, and can be again.”

Lloyd asked with icy reserve, “Is that what you want, Kohl?”

“Yes.” I chuckled, glancing at my fearful mate.

Lloyd slapped me. “Ask what I want.”

I swallowed. “What do you want, Lloyd, besides your statue back?”

“I want to know why when we’re harmed by a stranger we call him a thug, but when hurt by a friend we have to ‘make nice’?”

“Um…” I stammered; he had a good point.

“I also want to disappear you, Kohl. After you tell me who has my stolen idol, I’m confident no one will come looking for you.”

Trọng screeched petulantly: “But what about me! I want to know if criminals are still flogged at sea. And what’s more than that, I want to get my sweet Gordon away from such an awful Kraut, and in a room, alone.”

Hesus cleared his throat, as he’d decided to speak up too. “Beggin’ pardon, sir, but dees two done wrong by us as well. Worse! Day’ve angered the mighty god o’da sea.”

“That’s right,” piped Tanguay in agreement, finally releasing Gordon. “I’ve seen it with my wery own eyes, sir. This one”—meaning my boy—“clipped his nails on board a wessel, vhistled a tune in the vind, told my partner to go drown himself, said the vord ‘goodbye’! And worst of all, ate a wivid yellow banana—”

The surly redhead was cut off by the uproarious laughter coming from the stage; chorus girls and cabin crew alike regarded those as silly things to be angered over.

Hesus demanded of Lloyd: “As a man of da sea, Captain, you know how serious these affronts be to Poseidon. For ever and a day, them der cracked actions have been forbidden, and for good reason too. We can’t change the rules of shippin’ just for two fly-by-night hipsters.”

“Yeah!” chirped his boyfriend. “So let us take care of this punk in our own vay. Ve’ll appease the god, for sure, and do it wisibly.”

Trọng was indignant. “No one’s gonna harm my precious Gordon….”

“Look, look, friends!” At this point, Sadeeq, ‘trying to help,’ told the entire room: “This poor bastard, Kohl, has suffered enough – his limp noodle was behexed by some crazy sex cult. He can’t get it up, and for a Gay guy, that’s a fate worse than death!”

I thought, ‘Gott im Himmel, I could kill him all over again.’ Meek as a sheep, I glanced around the room, which was now in full-snicker mode over my condition. I saw it was especially evident in the sailors-cum-waiters.

Sadeeq pleaded, “Lloyd, take pity. The gods have done worse than you ever could.” He went up and laid a commiserating hand on Gordon’s chest. “And as for the boy, you can see, he’s already been punished enough."

“No so fast!” shouted Trọng, who went over and roughly snatched the Beatles bob off my Gordon’s head.

Pissed, I told him, “Don’t you dare lay a finger on him, you demented China Doll!”

That angered Lloyd, who said, “Watch your language.”

Sadeeq said, “More political correctness run amok.”

Me, Gordon, Lloyd and Trọng shouted in unison: “Shut up!”

That offended the poet’s Filipino friends who came streaming off stage, the befeathered showgirls caught with them in mid-stream.

The sailor-waiters tried to fend them off, but one cabin steward smacked a shoe upside the redhead, freeing Gordon fully, who came and clung to my beaded dress.

Hesus took affront to his boyfriend being abused, and within a matter of seconds, sides had formed, with all of the lounge wait staff battling the cabin crew. The showgirls with their gorgeous, sparkling costumes, bopped whomever they could over the head.

Trọng flew towards Gordon to try and grab him. I got angry, and with the brawl all around me, I shielded my boy behind me. I started to move us slowly back, waving my microphone cord at Trọng like a whip. “You stay away from him, you crazy bitch. You’re the only one deserves a flogging on his sip.”

I ripped off my wig and threw it in his face.

The fighting halted our step, but now Lloyd was pissed off again at the way I’d spoken to his partner.

The sea captain directed more waiters to “Get them!”

Me and Gordon picked up chairs and fought them back lion tamers, the cord of my mic stinging the white-jackets with stinging stripes.

The brawl raged on.

Suddenly through the din, a loud Tap, Tap, Tap was heard. The spotlight came on and swung around to stage center.

Alone up on the platform, hugging the microphone stand passionately, Sadeeq Amergin delivered these words:

“A Poem on Peace.

 

“There’s a futility

To constantly being on edge;

There’s real jeopardy too

That the razor-blade of anger

Cuts the wielder as deep

As the intended victims do.

But by seeing ourselves

In the faces of others, we heal;

By wielding forgiveness

Can we the gods themselves absolve.”

Somehow, by some alchemy of magic unknown, the poet’s words struck home. All seemed stunned into misty-eyes compliancy. Gordon and I set down our chairs and hugged; Lloyd and Trọng – and Hesus and his redhead too – moved to stand calmly next to their partners.

“Let’s end this,” said Trọng.

“All right,” I said, stepping forward, “but let’s formalize it in a kind of peace treaty. For which, I agree to tell Lloyd who has his idol, and work with the current owner to restore it.”

That seemed to calm the sea captain.

“And I,” said Gordon to Hesus and Tanguay, “promise to do the proper rituals to undo my ‘sea sins.’”

That appeased the Caribbean.

“But,” I cautioned Trọng, “you must make concessions too.”

“Like what?”

“Like, you agree to stop trying to force me and my boy apart.”

The Vietnamese throt looked not too sure.

I sweetened the pot. “And as a penalty clause, if any of the parties to this agreement fail to live up to the promises, $100 for each violation will be proffered in cash. Agreed…?”

“And,” added Gordon to Trọng, glancing at the younger sailor, “I think I know where your precious Gucci gym bag can be located.”

Trọng and Hesus looked amenable; Lloyd and Tanguay less so.

“Lloyd, darling, it’s the best way forward.”

The sea captain stepped up to me. “I can forgive and forget, but I have fear in my heart.”

Despite his concluding sentiment, he shook my hand to seal the deal.

“Oh, dear,” laughed Trọng. “There’s no need to be nervous. Sadeeq was right about dreams. They are no more omens of the future than exit polls; only after they ‘come true’ do they seem to be halfway believable.” He kissed Lloyd’s cheek.

All the warring factions, from showgirl to black-eyed waiter, hugged it out at Trọng’s insistence.

Just as I finished one of these enforced signs of peace, I turned around to face Hesus; Tanguay was at his side.

I stuck my hand out, and much to my relief, the Caribbean took it. However, the red-haired boy remained dismayed. He muttered, “This wictory ain’t right.”

Hesus replied, good naturedly, “All be forgiven, lad.”

“Maybe so vith us, but that don’t mean it’s over in their wiew.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, chuckling.

Tanguay looked me square in the eye. “Since vhen is concord among men in the best interests of the gods?”

Sadeeq tapped on the microphone again. He cried out: “I could use a drink. Who’s with me?!”

A tremendous cheer went up.

“Okay then, the night is fair, the seas are calm, so let’s go celebrate in style!”

_