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

ahead, not wanting to miss a moment of the picturesque scenery. (Plus, looking at William still made me a trifle bit nervous.)
    He began to nod. “The way I see it, we have two choices. One, I can keep driving and, in about five minutes, we’ll reach Joe Joe’s and you’ll get out of the car and go into the restaurant, where you’ll serve hung over queens and tweeked out clubbers for the next eight hours. Oh, and that shit you snorted will wear off right about the time every one of your tables has been seated and twenty other people are waiting for a chance to fill one of them the split second they become available.”
    “Or?” I wondered, not really liking the first option.
    “Or, two, we can turn around right here and keep driving until we’re far, far, far away from Joe Joe’s. And far, far, far away from the tweekers, geekers, slackers, hung over, fucked up, drugged out messes of humanity that you call customers, and be somewhere… somewhere (and here he pointed hither to the north)… somewhere where there are no people ordering coffee or asking for change for a five.”
    “And where, pray tell, would that be?” Forgetting that, not only did I have to be at work in approximately five minutes, and that if I failed to perform that duty, I would, no doubt, be unable to pay for food, gas, rent, or (heaven forbid) a new bottle of Wet.
    “Black Sand Beach,” he answered, smiling and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Blondie was now singing One Way or Another . Somewhat prophetic, huh? You betcha!
    “You know, I really can’t William. You live high up in your ivory tower without fear of starvation or homelessness, but I need Joe Joe’s to live. To eat. To sustain my meager existence.” I sighed, heavily. “Maybe you should just take me to work.” Now, I may have said it, but it was obvious from my tone that I clearly didn’t mean it.
    “Way too melodramatic, Sis, for this early hour of the morning. I mean, please, you’re like twenty-one or something, probably fresh out of college, and Joe Joe’s was, like, the first paying thing that came along. Am I right, Secret? Am I?” Of course, he didn’t wait for a reply. “Well, just sit there and stop your fretting; Auntie William will take care of everything.” (Hey, you up there, are you sitting there screaming at me right now? Are you shouting no, No, NO! Don’t do it! No good can come from this. Well, are you? Yeah, smart of you. Bravo, Einstein.)
    Well, he was right about one thing; I did take the first thing that came along. And, to tell you the truth, it wasn’t all that hard to get that job. There had to be a million jobs just like that or better, in fact. So I sat there for the next couple of minutes, as we drew ever nearer to the aforementioned dining nook, and I tried to convince myself that William was right.
    “Fuck it!” I soon relented, throwing my arms up as I motioned William forward, willing my brain not to think of the dire consequences.
    Again, I was only twenty-one. William was also right about that. Meaning, common sense and thinking things through were not my forté. And if I’d waited one more minute, I probably would’ve changed my mind. I do like to eat, you know. But I threw caution to the wind (I threw it, but it came back and whopped me in the face. Yep, the breeze was that strong) and I chose the road less traveled.
    “Fuck it!” William shouted back. “Fuck the whole damn thing!”
    And we were off. Not surprisingly, the elation I’d been feeling just five short minutes earlier had given way to an awful feeling of doom and apprehension. What, I thought to myself, had I just done?
    Naturally, William had the cure. “Oh, I see worry on that adorable face of yours, Secret. I told you I’d take care of it. Here, take this and perk up, Sweetie. Grey clouds are gonna clear up, so put on a happy face.” Then he handed me that same little baggie. Well, I was already in it up to my chin, might as well go all the