A Starr is Born Read online

  He grew so entranced with this performer he didn’t even hear the guy who’d led him to the table. The guy said he would send a waiter over and Harrison just stood there smiling at the drag performer singing the most wonderful song he’d ever heard. It wasn’t the kind of country rock music he sang, but it wasn’t totally without traces of classic rock music. It reminded him of one of those cross-over songs from the 90s, because it fell between the lines of pop music and rock in the subtlest way. It could have been played on any radio station in the country and it would have found an audience quickly. But most of all, it had a distinct melody, without being trite, which was something he’d thought was currently lacking all over in the music industry.

  The guy said something again and Harrison smiled at him and asked, “Who is that singing on stage right now?” He hesitated to use pronouns aloud. He didn’t want to assume anything. He wasn’t sure whether or not the performer identified as male.

  The guy shifted his gaze to the stage and shrugged. “I’m not totally sure. He’s one of those wannabe YouTube drag stars no one’s ever heard of that comes here to perform his act in front of a live audience. I’ll try to find out if you like.”

  Harrison took a seat at the table and said, “That would be great. I’d appreciate it.”

  A moment or two later, after the drag singer began another song that sounded original, a young waiter came over to Harrison’s table and said, “Good evening, Mr. Parker, what can I get for you? I’m one of your biggest fans and I’d like to buy you this one myself.”

  Harrison looked up at him and smiled. He was another adorable young gay man, with a slim, firm body and black pants so tight quarters would have bounced off his buttocks. He was definitely flirting with Harrison. He was staring at his lips and speaking with a soft submissive tone that suggested he would do anything Harrison wanted. These guys followed Harrison all over the world, and he’d been with so many by then he’d lost count.

  “There’s really no need to buy me a drink,” Harrison said. “I’ll just have a martini.”

  They guy winked at him and asked, “Do you like it dirty?”

  Harrison laughed and said, “Sure, I like it dirty sometimes. How about you? Are you dirty?” He figured it couldn’t hurt to flirt back a little.

  The guy leaned over a little and ran his fingertips across Harrison’s shoulder in a bold way. “I like it very dirty, and I’d love to show you later if you want. I’m not wearing any underwear.”

  Then Harrison lost track of the performer and he started talking to the waiter. He hadn’t intended to do this, but the cute young waiter not wearing underwear started complimenting him and telling him how much he loved his music. No one had boosted Harrison’s ego quite this way since that time he hooked up with identical twins after a concert in Indianapolis.

  They continued talking about how wonderful Harrison was and how talented Harrison was until the cute waiter said, “I’d love to sit on your lap for a minute and take a selfie. Do you think I could do that?”

  Harrison laughed and patted his legs. “Sure you can, baby. Sit right down here on my lap and take all the selfies you want. My fans love that.”

  But the guy never got a chance to sit on Harrison’s lap, because just as Harrison said, “My fans love that,” his voice magnified and the entire room turned to stare at his table. Harrison shifted his head slowly and saw a microphone directly in front of his face. When he looked up, he made direct eye contact with the drag performer he’d been admiring so much. Up close, he noticed the performer was only wearing lip-gloss, with none of the other exaggerated make-up typically worn by drag performers. He wasn’t even wearing falsies and he didn’t seem to care. His overall look was to pass as a woman, but without the camp element, in what appeared to be a gender neutral look. And it worked better than any drag act Harrison had ever seen.

  At first, Harrison didn’t get it. Then the performer said, “Are you finished?”

  “Excuse me?” Harrison asked.

  “Are you finished speaking, because you’re really screwing up my act. Now the whole room knows you want this little twink to sit on your lap, and no one heard the end of my number.” He glared at the waiter as if he could scratch his eyes out.

  The waiter just shrugged as if he didn’t care in the least.

  “I’m sorry,” Harrison said, with his sincerest tone. He knew he was wrong. He remembered when obnoxious people used to talk over his act when he was first starting out and he’d always resented them. It was probably one of the worst things anyone could do while someone was performing. Of course he’d never had the audacity to walk up to anyone like this drag performer was doing to him. “I really am very sorry. I was wrong.”

  The drag performer remained expressionless. His face remained so blank you couldn’t even call it a deadpan stare. He pulled the microphone away from Harrison and turned to head back toward the stage, with his head high and his shoulders square.

  As he crossed between tables, Harrison repeated, “I’m really very sorry,” but the drag performer didn’t turn around to acknowledge him. And that’s when Harrison knew he had to go backstage and meet this guy in person.

  Chapter Three

  After the drag performer called attention to the way Harrison had been talking during his act, other people in the club who had turned to see what was going on recognized Harrison. While he smiled and stared at the stage so he could listen to the smooth ballad the drag performer was now singing, he felt their eyes on him the entire time.

  It would have been fine if some obnoxious guy hadn’t insisted on taking a selfie with Harrison. People had been staring at him for years and he didn’t mind in the least. He was used to it. But when they crossed the line like the guy who wanted the selfie did it was another story.

  The guy sat down at Harrison’s table and spoke with a slurred voice. “Hey buddy,” he said. “Can I get a selfie with you for my wife? She’s never going to believe this.”

  Harrison noticed the guy’s eyes were red and he could smell the beer on his breath. He smiled at him and said, “After the show, man. I’d like to listen to this performer right now.”

  “I just want one selfie, dude,” the guy said. “It’s only going to take a second.”

  Harrison looked at him again and said, “I told you, pal, after the show. Now please stop talking while this nice person is performing. It’s causing a distraction.”

  Half the room was staring at Harrison’s table by then. The guy who wanted the selfie started speaking even louder. “Well excuse me, Mr. Rock Star. I’m sorry I disturbed you. All I want is one little selfie and you’re not even humble enough to do that. I guess it’s true what they say about you. That you’re a real dick.”

  Harrison felt his face getting warmer, and he reached out to squeeze the table in frustration. This time he looked into the guy’s eyes and said, “Listen, you fucking asshole. I’m trying to watch this show peacefully and you’re ruining it for everyone. Now either shut the fuck up, or take a fucking hike.”

  The guy blinked, and then he threw his beer at Harrison. He moved out of the way fast enough so the beer wouldn’t get all over his shirt, but some of it landed on his jeans, and he didn’t like that. Out of sheer instinct, Harrison reached across the table and grabbed the guy by the collar and said, “I said take a hike, dude. I’m not screwing around anymore.”

  The guy was about the same age as Harrison, he stood about six feet tall, the same height as Harrison, and he looked to be about 20 or 30 pounds heavier than Harrison. Whether it was the beer or just his basic make up, he didn’t seem to have any filters and he wouldn’t stop talking loudly.

  “That’s right. Look at the big bad rock star behaving badly. Look at the dickhead. I guess you’re too good to take a selfie with someone like me.”

  Harrison had lost track of the drag performer by then, and he didn’t even realize that the entire room was now staring at his table. He had to concentrate with all his might not to reach over
and hit this guy in the mouth. Oh, he wanted to hit him. Nothing would have given him more pleasure that night. But he refrained, with all the self-control he had, and he released the guy’s collar and said, “Look, I don’t want any trouble here. Why don’t you just leave and we’ll forget all about it, man.”

  That’s when the guy hoisted his arm back and threw the first punch. He knocked Harrison on the jaw and then reached back to hit him again.

  Harrison was faster and he was not about to let anyone hit him that way twice and get away with it. So before the guy’s fist landed on Harrison’s jaw a second time, Harrison lunged forward, hurled himself over the table, and pounced on the guy. As they rolled around on the dirty stone floor, the music stopped, people stood up, and someone turned on all the bright overhead lights. Harrison could see people scrambling around and running in all different directions. He knew they were taking photos and videos that would wind up on social media that would make excellent clickbait. But he couldn’t just sit there and take it. He couldn’t just let someone knock him in the jaw without fighting back. So he continued to roll around on the floor with this guy until a couple of bouncers from the club pulled them apart.

  One of the bouncers brought Harrison to the front exit and threw him out the front door, and another bouncer brought the other guy somewhere to the back of the club. Harrison tried to tell the bouncer that he would go peacefully and he didn’t want any trouble, but the bouncer just continued dragging him through the club until he tossed him to the bottom of the steps where he landed flat on his butt beside a black wrought iron fence on the sidewalk.

  At least it was near the club’s closing hour so everyone’s night hadn’t been ruined. And no one had called the police so this wouldn’t become one of those over-inflated affairs that mushroom into something 10 times more than what they really are. The worst that could happen would be that he’d wind up trending on social media for a day or two and then this would all disappear. He’d been through worse, and his true fans would probably love it. He’d noticed that he always received more attention when he behaved badly.

  As he tried to get up from the sidewalk, a hand reached down to help him and someone said, “Are you okay?”

  Harrison looked up and saw the drag performer standing directly in front of him. He took his hand and said, “I think I’m okay. How are you?”

  The drag performer hoisted him up with more strength than Harrison had expected and said, “I’m fine, other than the fact that you ruined my entire act. I think that’s the first time people have run out of a room screaming while I was singing. Thanks for that.”

  Harrison straightened out his jacket and ran his fingers through his hair. “He threw the first punch. Would you rather have me just sit there and allow someone to beat the hell out of me?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t fight at all,” the guy said. “I hate violence.”

  Harrison noticed that he hadn’t changed his clothes. He was still wearing the tight black mini-dress, the high heels and blond wig. The only thing different now was he was wearing a black leather biker jacket. “Are you a drag queen, or are you transgender? Do you identify as male or female? I want to get it right so I don’t offend you in any way.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” the guy said. “But I identify as a gay man, and I’m a male drag artist. I’m not transgender. But if I were, I wouldn’t hide it. I’d be proud to admit it. And thank you for asking.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me,” Harrison said. “I was just curious, is all. What’s your name?”

  “Morton Starr.”

  Harrison extended his right hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Morton. I’m Harrison Parker.” He noticed his name had the letters O and R, which was an encouraging sign. In fact, it was the first time Harrison had ever met any guy with an O and an R in his first name.

  Morton shook his hand and said, “I know who you are. I recognized you the minute you came in and sat down. I’ve always liked your music.”

  Harrison smiled. “Well, thank you, Morton. I really like your music, too. I’ve never heard anyone like you. You have real talent. Your voice is pitch perfect, your range is enviable, and you have the kind of resonance that doesn’t even need to be enhanced.”

  “Well, I guess you were listening after all.”

  “Of course I was listening,” Harrison said. “But I have to ask you one question. With a voice like yours, why are you doing a drag act? You could go anywhere and sing and perform as a man.”

  Morton shrugged and said, “It’s my comfort zone. It’s all I know. You see, I was raised with two gay fathers and both were very big on the drag circuit. That’s why my last name is Starr. They made that up for themselves. Of course they were a lot better than I am doing drag. They knew how to put on the sequins and glitter and work the room better than any two people I’ve ever known. They’re both gone now. If they were still around they’d probably help me more with my make-up and costumes.”

  “I’m sorry they’re not around anymore,” Harrison said. “But don’t change a thing. You’re perfect the way you are. I’ve never seen anyone like you, or heard anyone like you, and I think you have a great deal of potential.”

  Morton looked down, as if he didn’t know how to take a compliment. “Well, thank you. And now I have to be going. It’s been a long night, I’m tired, and these high heels are killing me.”

  As Morton turned to leave, Harrison said, “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.” Then he walked up behind Morton and rested his palm on the small of Morton’s back.

  Morton didn’t try to pull away from him, and he made no mention of the way Harrison had touched his back in such a familiar way. “A couple of blocks from here. Not far.”

  “Can I walk you there?”

  “I guess so,” Morton said. “I’d like that.”

  They started walking toward the avenue. Harrison put his arm all the way around him and pulled him closer. “Does this mean you forgive me for what happened in there tonight?”

  Even though he was wearing high heels, he was about an inch or two shorter than Harrison. He looked up into his eyes and said, “Not yet, but I’ll think about it. It just means I can’t resist a pushy guy with a deep voice and a beard.”

  * * *

  By the time they reached the halfway point to where Morton lived, they were both sweating and out of breath. It started about a block away. Harrison reached down a little lower and gently patted Morton on the butt. He couldn’t resist. It rounded out so nicely, and looked so firm, he had to touch it. It wasn’t the most aggressive move, or the most obvious, but it seemed to affect Morton in the most unusual way.

  Instead of smiling or responding to Harrison in the same subtle way, Morton stopped walking in the middle of the block and reached up with both hands to grab Harrison’s face. Then he pulled Harrison’s face toward his and kissed him so hard he had to hold on to Harrison’s shoulders to keep from falling sideways.

  They stood there kissing on the sidewalk this way until Morton had to reach back and pull his black mini-dress down. They’d become so involved in kissing neither one of them had realized that Harrison had slid both hands up the back of the black mini-dress dress to grab his buttocks. He wasn’t wearing any underwear either; just a thong. His body was just as firm and smooth and soft as Harrison had imagined it would be. And that made Harrison’s heart beat even faster. He grew so worked up and so aggressive he would have pulled the dress all the way up if Morton hadn’t said, “This is terrible. We’re going to get in trouble. My place isn’t far.”

  “I can’t wait that long,” Harrison said. “Let’s duck into an alley. I’m on PrEP.”

  ““I’m on PrEP, too. There’s a small park up the block,” Morton said. “No one’s there. It’s safe.”

  Harrison grabbed his hand and said, “C’mon.”

  A few minutes later, they reached the park and Morton led him to a small gazebo in the darkest section near a tall row of hedges. It wa
s one of those neighborhood places that go mostly unnoticed in Manhattan, and no one ever went there after midnight. When they were in the gazebo and Harrison reached out to hold him, Morton left him slack-jawed when he dropped to his knees, pulled down Harrison’s zipper and yanked his dick out of his jeans so he could burying his face between Harrison’s legs. Harrison had imagined Morton to be shyer, and more reserved. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

  He sucked Harrison’s dick for so long Harrison’s legs started to wobble. When he’d finally had enough of that, he sucked his balls for a few minutes and then he stood up and yanked the blond wig off his head revealing short dark hair. It was slightly wavy and a little longer on top than the sides. Without the wig he was even more beautiful as a man. He had those perfectly chiseled features that allowed him to get away with things other men or women couldn’t have done. This side of him excited Harrison even more and he reached forward with both hands to grab his waist. As he pulled him closer, he lifted the dress all the way up to Morton’s chest and asked, “What do you want me to do?” His only thought at that moment was to please him.

  Morton held his dick with one hand, and caressed his beard with the other. “Fuck me.”

  “If I get too rough, tell me.”

  He squeezed his dick harder. “Just fuck me. I’m a lot tougher than I look. I never do things like this and I don’t want to change my mind.”

  So Harrison turned him around and he reached for the railing that wrapped around the gazebo. Harrison pulled the string that ran down the back of his thong to the side and they used Harrison’s salvia as lube. At first, Morton was a little too small for Harrison’s length and girth. As good as this tightness felt for Harrison, he didn’t want to hurt him. He had to work his way in slowly. However, once he was almost all the way in Morton starting backing up and encouraging him to go even deeper. When Harrison grabbed Morton’s waist and started bucking his hips, Morton spread his legs wider and arched his back to let him know he was in no pain whatsoever. And when Harrison really started banging into him, to the point where Harrison could hear his balls slapping against his ass, Morton moaned so softly it almost sounded as though he might be humming a song.