Beau
The F Word
1984, New York City
It happened one late night on a subway platform. No idea what time it was, or what caused this young man to say it. All I know is, Josephine and I were alone with this boy.
Josephine was leaned against a partition, looking pretty sexy to me. She wore a red mini dress with built in corset, fake bosoms, and tall black high heels. Her black fishnets were calling me. I supposed to some she could have looked like a hooker, but to me? Perfection. I was fingering her long red wavy hair at the tips somewhere near her waist, totally lost with myself.
Something I said made Josephine giggle, and being so late at night and so alone, she didn't giggle her normal way. She giggled with her deep, masculine voice that I adore so much.
Immediately, behind me, I felt that boy's head snap up from his New York Daily News.
I cleared my throat and adjusted my faux leopard fur mini jacket about the collar. I knew why he looked up.
"Beau, don't. You're pulling my hair, it hurts," Josephine teased, using her masculine voice still. I was so enchanted by her using that voice, since it was so rare.
I could feel that boy looking at Josephine, through my back. Staring at her legs, how they were muscular and long. Maybe they didn't look entirely like a lady's legs could, but they were perfect to me. But something about his silence was eerie.
"I love you," I whispered to her.
"I love you, too," she sighed back, smiling to me with her beautiful red lips and white teeth.
"Faggot," whispered a small male voice behind me.
My eyes looked sideways. Josephine's smile was gone.
There was silence for a few moments. Josephine was staring at me, delicate light orange eyebrows raised in shock, a slight ashamed blush to her cheeks. Because of her facial expression, I knew there was something that had to be done.
No one calls my Josephine a faggot and lives.
"Excuse me, sir?" I asked, turning around.
"Oh, great, there's another one," he said, rolling his eyes and flicking his newspaper up to his face, trying to look like he was ignoring us now.
"How flattering," I sighed. I strode over to him in my leopard print high heels which meant business.
Seeing me in front of him, the boy put down his newspaper. "What the fuck you want?" he asked, a superior look on his face.
I just smiled. Josephine rolled her eyes at the boy's petulance. She stayed next to the partition, wanting no part of it.
I drew closer to the boy, wanting to irritate him further. This had the desired effect. He got up from the concrete bench and swung around me, distancing himself.
"Get your AIDS away from me," he spat.
I could feel Josephine's stare go livid. My skin prickled from it.
The boy started to walk away. I followed.
"Where you going, baby?" I asked sweetly in a sing-song voice, "I know you find me attractive. Why else would you be playing hard to get?"
"You're a fucking disgusting AIDS faggot, nobody wants you. Get the fuck away from me," he demanded, his anger rising, still striding away.
I could feel my eyes glowing in my excited heat for the chase, and no doubt if he turned around now he would be screaming. Wanting to know what I really was, pleading for forgiveness. But he wouldn't get the chance.
Because just then, the lights went out, and we were plunged in darkness.
My Josephine was out for death.
I hopped up and down in anticipation. I could still see the boy's form in the darkness of course. He looked confused and a little scared, suddenly looking much younger than he was. He was turning around, trying to figure out what the hell happened.
I felt Josephine next to me, the heat from her body wrapping around me like a blanket. Her eyes glowed red in the darkness next to mine.
The boy was feeling around in the dark, looking for partitions and benches to guide him out of the black. But it was a long way to get out.
Before either of us could even move, we started to see a distant light from the tunnel to the left. The boy was silent now, left defenseless in the sudden dark. He knew there were two angry queens somewhere in there with him, and with two against one he wasn't going to win if he couldn't see. He wouldn't have won anyway, but I'll give you the thought.
Josephine started to speak, seeing the distant light.
"I don't want to get blood on my heels. You just bought me these. What about your leopard ones? Can you stab him through the eye with those? How old are they?"
"That would be absolutely fabulous, Josephine. Blood and leopard print? Why didn't I think of it?" I laughed.
We heard him shudder in the dark, heard his wingtips clicking on the concrete like mice in the attic as he hurried his slow pace.
I was laughing uncontrollably now. Usually I wouldn't say such things, but what this boy was probably expecting from us. It was so funny. And I knew Josephine thought it was funny, too. I could see her smile in the darkness. That beautiful happy smile again. That's all that mattered to me in the world.
"Ah, Beau, I'm bored now," Josephine declared.
"Yes, let's not keep the gentleman waiting. He asked for it after all."
"Just throw him in front of the train."
This caused an echoing shriek from the man, who was about twenty feet away from us, not making much progress. Not caring where he was going now, he just took off running. To where, we didn't know. Anywhere but near us, I suppose.
I sashayed towards the man, much quicker than he could ever hope to be. Grabbing his shoulders and twirling him around, the man let out a crazed howl and tried to swing fists at me. My grip was too tight for him. Inhumanly tight.
"What the fuck!" he shrieked, "what the fuck!"
I dragged the struggling man back to Josephine like a lioness' prize.
"Fuck, I don't want him. I asked you to do it," Josephine shrugged, "I don't want to touch that hate-filled parasite any more than you do."
"How strange we are, both hating for different reasons. Are we any better than he is in our hate?" I asked, heaving the man over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, his little boy-like screams falling on deaf ears.
"Don't you dare get all philosophical on me," Josephine laughed.
"Yeah, I'm just joking," I grinned.
"Ah, I love your smile," she sighed.
This filled me with a burst of heart-squeezing pride to have her love. The man was crying now, sobbing and shaking.
"Isn't our love beautiful? Say you're sorry and we'll let you live," I sang.
"Aren't you nice," Josephine remarked in fabricated awe.
The man was just choking in his sobs.
"Come on, say it, you don't have much time," I pouted.
"I'm-I'm sorryyy," he sputtered and choked, "its beautifulll."
"Tell me how beautiful Josephine is in her dress."
"She's beautiful."
"Thank you!" I chirped.
The train's light flooded the platform.
"But," I growled in a death whisper, "you're still going to die."
The man gasped and stiffened. With a great heave, I threw him as the train sweeped in. The noise was enormous.
At that precise moment, the lights blared back on with Josephine's delighted beam of a grin.
With an explosive force, the blood splattered everywhere. All over the ceiling, the walls, us. Parts of the man fell places, but mostly he was dragged with the train. People on the train looked startled and confused, panicked.
All they could see were two beautiful queens, grinning and laughing on the train platform, drenched in blood. And as the train began to screech to stop in emergency, we simply disappeared from sight.