Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love by Rob Rosen Read Free Book Online

snorting the coke from the little, silver spoon. First one nostril and then the other. “Bird can’t fly on just one wing, can it?” he said, sniffling, before handing me the spoon, newly filled for yours truly.
    I shook my head, not knowing what the hell he was talking about. All I knew was that I had to let go of something that I had waited my whole life to hold on to, only to grab something that I had no desire for whatsoever. In any case, I reluctantly let go of his willy and apprehensively snorted the white stuff. (Bad choice? Please. As if you’re so perfect.)
    I have one thing to say: yuck-the-fuck-o. It tasted horrible going down and it burned just a bit, too. Then, before I could even get my wits about me, William filled the spoon again and placed it beneath my other nostril. “Toot, toot, Sweetie. Up the hatch now.” He sounded like a mother trying to feed her baby. Anyway, I blindly obeyed, shook my head a little, like I’d just taken some bad-tasting medicine, and forced a smile on my tired face. (Okay, I know I’ve said this already, but drugs are bad. Just say no. Usually. And only do it if the situation calls for it. Which, of course, this one clearly did. Then look up justification in the dictionary and find a picture of yours truly.)
    “Thanks, William. Much appreciated.” Suffice it to say, I wasn’t talking about the coke.
    “Okay then, let’s get me dressed and get you to work,” he said, jumping up and back over to the dresser, where he set the baggie down and rustled about for some clothes to wear. Believe it or not, I was kind of relived to see him get dressed, seeing as I didn’t know how much more of William naked I could take. Honestly, if Michelangelo really was gay, imagine what he went through staring at the guy who posed for his David day in and day out.
    Thankfully, it didn’t take William long to get some clothes on, and, before I knew it, we were out of the house and into his little, red Corvette. (No, no song references here, easy as one would’ve been; he really did have a little, red Corvette.) William looked like he was born for that car of his, too, and when he put his big, black Ray Bans on, man, let me tell you, it was fantasy made flesh. My heart, by then, was racing as fast as the engine. (Oops, did it again; I forgot I was on drugs.) Quite suddenly, my head was reeling, my feet were tapping, my hand was slapping my knee, and I was up, Up, UP and away.
    WHOOSH !!!
    Well, I hated to admit it, but those couple of bumps really did the trick, and when I looked over at William, he had the biggest shit-eatin’ grin on his beautiful face. He was just smiling and nodding and vibrating all over. Least he looked that way to me. Maybe, in reality, it was me that was vibrating and he was sitting still. Whatever. Because the effect was the same. Then he cranked up the radio and we both looked at each other again, and at that exact same moment we both started singing to Rock Lobster , something about boys in bikinis and girls in surfboards. (B-52s reference there, Sweetie. Dig it.)
    That’s when I felt it, too. Do you ever have that feeling of rapture when it just, you know, dawns on you that you’re alive and breathing and happy as all fuck? When that great, big slot machine of life tumbles over to triple sevens? Well, that was what I felt like right at that split second. Yes, yes, I know it was the coke and the cool San Francisco air hitting me in the face, but all I was certain of at that moment was that I was happy, and, whatever the cause, I for one wasn’t knocking it.
    “Secret?” William said, staring at the road ahead, that mesmerizing grin still plastered to his equally mesmerizing face. The sun had fully woken up and, looking in the rearview mirror, I could see the patches of green grass on Twin Peaks as the fog began rolling in over the hills. It was a perfect summer morning in the most beautiful city in America.
    “Yes, William,” I replied, now staring straight