I thought that in honor of Blind Items getting that honorable mention in the Rainbow Awards, I’d give you a little Drew and Jonathan:
Which was how we came to be standing outside of a club in the Village called Rooster’s half an hour later. “They’re not even trying to be subtle, are they?” Jonathan asked.
“When I was in college, I frequented a place called Manhole.”
He laughed. “Okay, that’s worse.” But he dug in his heels when I tried to pull him inside.
“Jonathan, no one’s going to recognize you.”
And still he hesitated. “I can’t be here. Going with you to a restaurant or a bar would be one thing, but this is, you know, a club where, you know…” He pressed his palms together.
“Are you trying to say that this is a homosexual establishment?” I clutched at my invisible pearls. “Rey’s gone in here with me before, and he’s a hell of a lot higher profile than you are. In the unlikely event someone does recognize you, well, it’s not totally unprecedented for the straight friends of gay men to go to gay clubs. Because you know what else they have at gay clubs? Straight-girl best friends.”
“I’m not here to pick up women,” Jonathan said.
“I should hope not.” I leaned close to him. “I’m just concocting your alibi. Do you see anybody you think you might be here to pick up?”
I could see it on his face when he started to let go. The lines in his forehead disappeared, his mouth twitched into an almost smile. “I think I might see someone,” he said looking right at me.
“Yeah?” I laughed, and Jonathan laughed with me. That seemed like a green light. “Let’s go inside. Deep breath, cowboy.”
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