Chapter Three
The apartment's residents were awake- and noisy- when Arthur returned. Ray was holding his blueberry scone in one hand while he scribbled notes on a napkin with the other. Malcolm stood on a stool in front of a mirror, tongue stuck out thoughtfully as he carefully lined his eyes with blue pencil. Billy was the noisy one, drumming his hands on a tea kettle as he sang along to the radio, playing not so softly in the corner.
"Hungry, Arthur?" Pearl called from his perch on the counter, where he was wedged between the smudged wall and the boots Billy had been wearing the night before.
"Nah," he replied shortly and headed back toward the room where he had left his bag. He opened the bag and began his search for the extra change of clothes he packed. As he searched, he shifted in his rumpled outfit and decided that a shower would be heaven at that moment.
He'd retrieved the shirt and the socks when Ray came peeking in the room. "Good morning."
Arthur looked up quickly and forced a smile. "Hi." Before Ray could say anything else, Arthur continued hurriedly. "Thanks for letting me have your bed… Sorry you had to take the couch."
Ray laughed. "Oh, I didn't sleep on the couch. I slept with Pearl."
Arthur blinked at that comment. His mind raced off on a tangent, wondering exactly what Ray meant, but he just shrugged and said, "Oh."
Ray clapped his hands together with an exuberant smile. "So we have a gig tonight. And I suppose we could maybe use some help with our stuff. So if you wanna come…"
Arthur smiled. "Really?"
"Of course, that means getting dressed up," Ray said with a sideways glance to Arthur's rumpled sweater and slacks.
"Uh… I was just unpacking…"
Ray reached around Arthur and picked up the starched white shirt from his small pile of clothes. He raised a thin eyebrow and shook his head. "No. You can't wear this."
Arthur yanked it from his hands. "Why not?"
"Because it looks like something my grandmother would wear!" Arthur ducked his head, muttered something inaudible under his breath. "What?"
"I don't have anything else."
"Sure you do," Ray replied, beginning to dig through Arthur's bag.
"Ray!"
Ray grinned as he pulled out a record. "'Zounds'! You can never find this one in stores anymore!" He tossed it on the bed and continued his search.
The others soon joined him and the crowded around Arthur's bed as his possessions were dumped onto the comforter. Arthur ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
"I don't blame you for bringing these instead of clothes!" Malcolm breathed, staring at the treasure trove. "I'd bring these instead of air!"
"Virginia Plain!" Billy squealed. He grinned and tossed the record to Pearl, who quickly moved to the stereo.
"Guys…" Arthur trailed off as the music began blasting.
"What?" Pearl asked innocently, then grinned. "Come on, Arthur. We need mood music."
Arthur's eyes widened as the group closed in around him. "Wha… Why?"
A wicked grin lit Billy's face. "We're going to make you over."
*
Hours later, Arthur lagged behind the Creatures as they lead the way to the Sombrero Club. "Arthur, hurry up!" Ray cried.
Arthur quickened his steps, but merely to catch up enough to say, "I can't go in there like this!"
Malcolm turned to their little pet. "You look fine, Arthur."
"Don't be modest!" Ray exclaimed, tugging on Arthur's purple sleeve. "He looks extraordinary!"
Arthur worriedly smoothed the fabric of the satin pants Billy had loaned him. "Are you sure?"
Malcolm stepped closer to Arthur and stared right at his face. Then he licked the tip of his index finger and carefully rubbed away a smudge in Arthur's lipstick. "Perfect."
Arthur smiled, suddenly much calmer. He followed the Creatures into the club and to the bar. The band onstage was obviously winding down and Malcolm looked at his band mates. "Showtime, fellas."
"What about me?" Arthur asked, as the Creatures began to head backstage.
"Meet us backstage after the set," Malcolm directed.
Ray deliberately knocked Arthur's collar askew and winked. "Be good and make friends."
They left him at the bar, staring after them with wide eyes. And because bad things came in threes, not twos or zeros, it wasn't enough that he was left at a bar alone, tarted up like a whore. No, someone had to come along and make it worse.
He was dressed in tight leather and knee high black boots, laced up with skinny rainbows. His outfit was far more elaborate than it had been the night before, but Arthur knew it was the same man that had hit on him at the Last Resort. Arthur felt panic rise up inside him as he approached. This time there wouldn't be any Malcolm to make him go away.
"Hey," the man said, sidling up to Arthur.
"Uh…" Arthur murmured, trailing off and looking around for a way out. There was none. "Hi."
"I think we got off on the wrong foot last night." He smiled, stuck out his hand. "I'm Chris."
Arthur forced a smile as he shook the other man's hand. "Arthur Stuart."
"Can I buy you a drink, Arthur?"
Arthur gave the figures just arriving on stage a plaintive look, then nodded. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"
*
The set ended well and the Creatures traipsed offstage, grinning as Malcolm spun around happily. In the middle of his second whirl around the room, he noticed their missing roommate. "Where's Arthur?"
Ray peeked out the stage door. "I left him at the bar." The others followed him and scanned the cavernous club.
"He's since gone on," Billy said and gestured.
There, sitting at a back booth, was Arthur, throwing back a shot of tequila. And beside him, ready to pour him another, was the vibrantly dressed, wickedly persistent Chris. He was vitually draped over the younger man, blatantly trying to seduce him. With an exaggerated sigh, Malcolm climbed down the narrow steps and swaggered across the room to the dark booth.
"Chris," he said, giving the young man a look. "Have you no shame?"
The dark haired man grinned and looked over at Arthur, flushed and tipsy, then back to Malcolm. "No, none whatsoever."
Malcolm groaned. "Take your rainbow shoelaces and get lost, Chris. This one's off limits."
As the young man slinked away, Malcolm dropped into the booth. "Kitten, how many of these have you had?" he asked, gesturing to the full shot glass in front of Arthur.
Arthur lifted unfocused eyes to Malcolm's face. "Five… or nine…"
Malcolm sighed exaggeratedly and was about to hoist his drunk roommate to his feet when he noticed Arthur's face. It was sullen, his eyes filled with as much sadness as liquor. "What's wrong?"
Arthur didn't struggle to word it right, just blurted out. "I can't go home. I can never go home."
"Sure you can," Malcolm replied automatically.
"No. He said so. He told me I was dead…" Arthur's head lolled backwards; a small groan escaped him. "He hates me because I don't love Katherine Jackson."
Drunks rarely made any sense in Malcolm's experience- and Arthur didn't seem to want to change his perception. "You'll have to explain that one to me, Arthur."
"Her father owns the butcher shop. My dad always expected me to marry her, I think." Arthur's lips quivered, his eyes filling. "I don't want to marry Katherine!" Arthur collapsed against Malcolm's shoulder, sobbing into Malcolm's silver mesh top.
Malcolm patted the intoxicated boy's shoulder awkwardly. "It's okay, Arthur."
Arthur's hand slammed down on the table. "No! It's not okay! I'm not normal! Why can't I be normal?"
"Normal is boring," Malcolm replied quietly, stopping his hand as it reached for the glass. "Its much more fun to be different."
Tearstained brown eyes looked up at him hopefully. "Promise?"
"Yeah," Malcolm said, pushing Arthur's glass away. "Promise."
The apartment's residents were awake- and noisy- when Arthur returned. Ray was holding his blueberry scone in one hand while he scribbled notes on a napkin with the other. Malcolm stood on a stool in front of a mirror, tongue stuck out thoughtfully as he carefully lined his eyes with blue pencil. Billy was the noisy one, drumming his hands on a tea kettle as he sang along to the radio, playing not so softly in the corner.
"Hungry, Arthur?" Pearl called from his perch on the counter, where he was wedged between the smudged wall and the boots Billy had been wearing the night before.
"Nah," he replied shortly and headed back toward the room where he had left his bag. He opened the bag and began his search for the extra change of clothes he packed. As he searched, he shifted in his rumpled outfit and decided that a shower would be heaven at that moment.
He'd retrieved the shirt and the socks when Ray came peeking in the room. "Good morning."
Arthur looked up quickly and forced a smile. "Hi." Before Ray could say anything else, Arthur continued hurriedly. "Thanks for letting me have your bed… Sorry you had to take the couch."
Ray laughed. "Oh, I didn't sleep on the couch. I slept with Pearl."
Arthur blinked at that comment. His mind raced off on a tangent, wondering exactly what Ray meant, but he just shrugged and said, "Oh."
Ray clapped his hands together with an exuberant smile. "So we have a gig tonight. And I suppose we could maybe use some help with our stuff. So if you wanna come…"
Arthur smiled. "Really?"
"Of course, that means getting dressed up," Ray said with a sideways glance to Arthur's rumpled sweater and slacks.
"Uh… I was just unpacking…"
Ray reached around Arthur and picked up the starched white shirt from his small pile of clothes. He raised a thin eyebrow and shook his head. "No. You can't wear this."
Arthur yanked it from his hands. "Why not?"
"Because it looks like something my grandmother would wear!" Arthur ducked his head, muttered something inaudible under his breath. "What?"
"I don't have anything else."
"Sure you do," Ray replied, beginning to dig through Arthur's bag.
"Ray!"
Ray grinned as he pulled out a record. "'Zounds'! You can never find this one in stores anymore!" He tossed it on the bed and continued his search.
The others soon joined him and the crowded around Arthur's bed as his possessions were dumped onto the comforter. Arthur ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
"I don't blame you for bringing these instead of clothes!" Malcolm breathed, staring at the treasure trove. "I'd bring these instead of air!"
"Virginia Plain!" Billy squealed. He grinned and tossed the record to Pearl, who quickly moved to the stereo.
"Guys…" Arthur trailed off as the music began blasting.
"What?" Pearl asked innocently, then grinned. "Come on, Arthur. We need mood music."
Arthur's eyes widened as the group closed in around him. "Wha… Why?"
A wicked grin lit Billy's face. "We're going to make you over."
*
Hours later, Arthur lagged behind the Creatures as they lead the way to the Sombrero Club. "Arthur, hurry up!" Ray cried.
Arthur quickened his steps, but merely to catch up enough to say, "I can't go in there like this!"
Malcolm turned to their little pet. "You look fine, Arthur."
"Don't be modest!" Ray exclaimed, tugging on Arthur's purple sleeve. "He looks extraordinary!"
Arthur worriedly smoothed the fabric of the satin pants Billy had loaned him. "Are you sure?"
Malcolm stepped closer to Arthur and stared right at his face. Then he licked the tip of his index finger and carefully rubbed away a smudge in Arthur's lipstick. "Perfect."
Arthur smiled, suddenly much calmer. He followed the Creatures into the club and to the bar. The band onstage was obviously winding down and Malcolm looked at his band mates. "Showtime, fellas."
"What about me?" Arthur asked, as the Creatures began to head backstage.
"Meet us backstage after the set," Malcolm directed.
Ray deliberately knocked Arthur's collar askew and winked. "Be good and make friends."
They left him at the bar, staring after them with wide eyes. And because bad things came in threes, not twos or zeros, it wasn't enough that he was left at a bar alone, tarted up like a whore. No, someone had to come along and make it worse.
He was dressed in tight leather and knee high black boots, laced up with skinny rainbows. His outfit was far more elaborate than it had been the night before, but Arthur knew it was the same man that had hit on him at the Last Resort. Arthur felt panic rise up inside him as he approached. This time there wouldn't be any Malcolm to make him go away.
"Hey," the man said, sidling up to Arthur.
"Uh…" Arthur murmured, trailing off and looking around for a way out. There was none. "Hi."
"I think we got off on the wrong foot last night." He smiled, stuck out his hand. "I'm Chris."
Arthur forced a smile as he shook the other man's hand. "Arthur Stuart."
"Can I buy you a drink, Arthur?"
Arthur gave the figures just arriving on stage a plaintive look, then nodded. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"
*
The set ended well and the Creatures traipsed offstage, grinning as Malcolm spun around happily. In the middle of his second whirl around the room, he noticed their missing roommate. "Where's Arthur?"
Ray peeked out the stage door. "I left him at the bar." The others followed him and scanned the cavernous club.
"He's since gone on," Billy said and gestured.
There, sitting at a back booth, was Arthur, throwing back a shot of tequila. And beside him, ready to pour him another, was the vibrantly dressed, wickedly persistent Chris. He was vitually draped over the younger man, blatantly trying to seduce him. With an exaggerated sigh, Malcolm climbed down the narrow steps and swaggered across the room to the dark booth.
"Chris," he said, giving the young man a look. "Have you no shame?"
The dark haired man grinned and looked over at Arthur, flushed and tipsy, then back to Malcolm. "No, none whatsoever."
Malcolm groaned. "Take your rainbow shoelaces and get lost, Chris. This one's off limits."
As the young man slinked away, Malcolm dropped into the booth. "Kitten, how many of these have you had?" he asked, gesturing to the full shot glass in front of Arthur.
Arthur lifted unfocused eyes to Malcolm's face. "Five… or nine…"
Malcolm sighed exaggeratedly and was about to hoist his drunk roommate to his feet when he noticed Arthur's face. It was sullen, his eyes filled with as much sadness as liquor. "What's wrong?"
Arthur didn't struggle to word it right, just blurted out. "I can't go home. I can never go home."
"Sure you can," Malcolm replied automatically.
"No. He said so. He told me I was dead…" Arthur's head lolled backwards; a small groan escaped him. "He hates me because I don't love Katherine Jackson."
Drunks rarely made any sense in Malcolm's experience- and Arthur didn't seem to want to change his perception. "You'll have to explain that one to me, Arthur."
"Her father owns the butcher shop. My dad always expected me to marry her, I think." Arthur's lips quivered, his eyes filling. "I don't want to marry Katherine!" Arthur collapsed against Malcolm's shoulder, sobbing into Malcolm's silver mesh top.
Malcolm patted the intoxicated boy's shoulder awkwardly. "It's okay, Arthur."
Arthur's hand slammed down on the table. "No! It's not okay! I'm not normal! Why can't I be normal?"
"Normal is boring," Malcolm replied quietly, stopping his hand as it reached for the glass. "Its much more fun to be different."
Tearstained brown eyes looked up at him hopefully. "Promise?"
"Yeah," Malcolm said, pushing Arthur's glass away. "Promise."