Chapter Text
March 23rd, 2024
6:20 pm, EST
“I know you aint following a white girl's makeup routine.” Claudia rolled her eyes as they sat in front of the vanity in Armand’s bathroom. Claudia had come in to ask her father for outfit recommendations for dinner and the show later and it had evolved into Louis watching and critiquing her newfound makeup routine.
“She's mixed.” Louis looked at the obviously blackfishing lil girl on his daughter's screen, hands about 71 shades lighter than the foundation she was putting on, shake-and-go kinky curly wig sitting so crooked on her head it might as well be off.
“Coulda fooled me. Plus her order is all wrong. And that setting powder is gon make you look ashy”
“You do it then.” She pushed the makeup towards him. He straddled the other side of the bench like a seesaw, turned her face towards his so he could see his canvas. “You don't need makeup Claudia, you're very beautiful and you have extremely good skin.” Claudia rolled her eyes but took the compliment (statement of fact) anyway.
“I realize I'm very pretty. I have eyes. I want to be even prettier. Plus I need the practice, you can't work in this town without a full face” Louis giggled as Claudia threw her hand up to her forehead and swooned dramatically.
“Alright Patti Labelle c'mere”. Louis beckoned his daughter closer, replaced some of the products with his own to get a better color match, and began painting her face, muscle memory taking over from when he'd do this for himself, Grace, and his line sisters. It was nice, felt like all the good parts of playing dress up without the uncomfortable itch of wrong that used to stick on him as a child. They sat in a comfortable silence, occasionally broken by a “look up” or a “turn your head” or a “quit squirming, beauty is pain baby girl.”
“How do you get a man?” Claudia asked as Louis ran the eyeliner pencil just under her waterline.
“Well Armand and I-”
“Ion wanna hear about him. How did you get my father?”
“I didn't buy your father at the store honey” Louis giggled to himself. It would have been so much easier if he did, simply picked out the parts of Lestat he liked and could discard the rest. co*ck: yes, Mommy issues: depending on the day, horrific table manners and propensity for outside meat: hard no. But that is not how it works. You take the good and the bad and currently Lestat was pretty good.
Claudia was deeply unamused. “You know what I meant. How did he ask you to be his?”
“Why do you assume he asked me? What if I asked him out first? Hm? You ever think of that, Lil Miss?” Louis began blowing on the glue for the strip lashes Claudia insisted on putting on, despite his warnings about them being too thick for her eyelids.
“You don't pump your own gas, One time he told you your job was to sit there and look pretty while he paid for dinner and you giggled like a lil girl for a minute and a half, you went to catholic school for 16 years, and you had a rich, bald, Black daddy. I am surprised you can even fathom asking a man on a date, much less to go steady.” Louis faked (not really) being scandalized at his daughter clocking his tea like that. He'd asked men out before, been dominant with them, hell he even topped more than a couple times. He just didn't do (most of) that with Lestat. They had a certain way they clicked and they both enjoyed it, old fashioned and evidence of a deep seeded misogyny in the both of them as it was.
“See, you in my business now lil girl. I’ll have you know I'm only like that with your father. He's just very, very old…fashioned in that sense.” Louis and Claudia bust out into giggles.
“Tell the story!”
“Aiight fine. Your father moved here in 2003, we met at a bar, and we kept meeting at bars, and plays, and operas and the park and a rappers abandoned mansion one time for halloween. He wanted a tour guide and I wanted an excuse to get drunk and feel up his arms so we became friends. We were friends for about a year then he took me out dancing and came to my birthday dinner and by the end of the night he asked me to be his boyfriend and I said yes.” Louis gave the most barebones version possible, condensing the most stressful 8 days of his life into three sentences. Louis left out how they felt so awful for giving into temptation that he ghosted him and fasted for a week straight to sort himself out, which came to a crescendo when Lestat confronted him outside St. Augustine's late at night, begging and pleading for Louis to say something to him, to have him, love him as Lestat did. He said yes, had moved himself into Lestat's townhome and Lestat further into his soul by the time the sun was up.
Claudia sat flabbergasted. He had to be hiding something. All of his stories tooks hours, no, weeks, to tell and he thought he could get away with just saying that? No. Absolutely not. “Is that it?”
“Well…”
October 2nd, 2004
Clowning. Lestat had been talking about Clowning for 25 minutes. Louis could be doing a lot of things in 25 minutes. He could have gotten a head start on the grunt work Fenwick assigned him for the Exxon case. He could have done a quick calisthenics session. He could have driven into Lake Ponticharian and ended his miserable existence. Instead, he was here, eating brunch in the gay(est) part of the Quarter, listening to a 30 year old French blonde man, who dressed like Rockstars were still a thing and could barely read the laminated menu under their meals, yammer on about Clowning. And the worst part was, there was no where else Louis wanted to be in the world than listening to Lestat explain the difference between Augustine Clowns and Harlequins, watching the tight and veiny exposed muscles of his strong arms flex and work from under the haphazardly ripped-off sleeves of his black t-shirt while he took a hard chug of his fruity lil co*cktail.
“So yeah that's the difference, nothing too major though.”
“So your dream job is clown?” Louis co*cked his head, tried to make his way through his meal.
“My dream job, my darling, is life of the party and darling bitch supreme. The uniform just happened to be a clown costume” Louis's laughter ran through the small space of the booth they were in, sitting on opposite sides because Louis insisted. The thought of Lestat's hands or legs any closer than it already was, fleshed warmed by his own, made him want to take up asceticism. They could imagine praying in some monastery far away from those all consuming blue eyes that kept looking him up and down and that strong jaw they wanted to suck bruises into as it worked up and down and wait… Lestat just said something.
“Huh?”
“I asked what you'd do if you had no constraints. Money is no object, no family ties, no anything, just you and your deepest desires. What would you be doing?” Louis sat and thought for a moment, took a sip of his old fashioned. It burned hard on the way down. He should have gotten the Sex on the Beach like Lestat did, it would have gone much better with his egg white omelet but his more… traditional uncles sometimes walked by here to jeer and he could never be too careful.
“I'd be a father. Or a dancer again.” Lestat looked as if he wanted to be the one who made him a father, eyes running over the minute bits of skin Louis kept exposed in public. Even through Louis’s vest, dress shirt, and pants, all tailored to make him look boxier, Lestat could see the contrast between Louis’s shoulders and tiny waist, the round and full thighs, the gorgeous plushness of his ass just waiting for Lestat to claim as his and his alone.
“You were a dancer?”
“Majorette, Tap, and Ballroom for 20 years.” Louis snuck three fry off of Lestat’s plate and shrugged like he didn't believe it either. That Louis felt so different from this one it might as well have happened on another planet, in some alternate universe where he had nothing worrying him but rehearsals and buying appropriate flesh-colored tights and the occasion purge. “I was also a cheerleader”.
Lestat raised his eyebrows, thought about Louis in a cheerleader's uniform and struggled to tamp down his erection. Instead, he finished his drink in one go, and slid over to Louis’s side of the booth, looking Louis up and down while his hands did much of the same.
“Is that why you're so… well developed?” Louis almost pulled his hand off his side, almost left the bar in the quarter and walked home, almost vowed to never to return to this side of town or this side of his brain or filthy body ever again. Instead, Louis allowed his paws to run up and down his flank like a butcher, pleasure pooling in his belly when his fingertips met the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.
“That's not a very friendly thing to say Mr. Lioncourt”. What if I didn't want to be friendly with you anymore? What if I wanted you so badly it aches? What if I have searched for a lifetime for the one to call my companion heart and he was sitting right in front of me? What if I wanted to bend you over right here, right now, show everyone you're mine? Lestat thought. Instead he flipped his hair back, showed off his golden ear cuff.
“Louis, how many times have I said you don't have to call me that. Just call me Lestat” or your husband .
“Alright Lestat. And to answer your question, no this is all homecooking and Tai Bo” Louis giggled nervously and patted his thighs quickly. Lestat almost came right there as the flesh moved under their hands.
“Remind me to eat at your mother's house then. Why'd you stop dancing?” Louis sighed. This was their-bench-in-Jackson’s-Square-at-1-am-slightly-too-drunk-to-do-anything-else-but-talk conversation, not middle of brunch conversation.
“I had to be the man of the house. Daddy got sick, then he got really sick and Paul was having his… troubles, so it was just me. I didn't have time for frivolous sh*t like dancing. I had to make sure we kept a roof over our heads and that Gracie could pay her school fees and Paul could afford his treatment. God, I don't think I've danced in years”. The last time Louis had made the effort to attempt to go dancing was at his 2L Barristers Ball three years ago, which he then had to leave early to fly home and make hospice preparations for his father. He didn't even get to dance, just wasted a very expensive ticket and disappointed some of his ‘friends’ and his mother, who saw the tight fade and handsome suit he didn't have time to change out of before he stepped inside and curled her lip up in utter disgust at him, sending Louis into a spiral he isn't sure he's recovered from.
Lestat's face softened in understanding. He had been working to support his family since he was a child and he knew intimately the toll it took on someone. But at least he could sneak off to get drunk, dance, and sing stupid made-up songs in the woods, free from the judging eyes of propriety. What could Louis do if he couldn't dance? Create? Love and be loved in return?
“Your birthday is on the 4th right? We’ll go dancing. What's a good spot around here?” Louis scoffed.
“Lestat you're not taking me dancing on the 4th.”
“Why not? Scared you can't keep up with me?” A giggle floated out of Louis’ mouth.
“No, I'd mop the floor with you. I have work that day and my birthday dinner”
“Call out sick, we’ll go after dinner. It's your birthday, you shouldn't need to work on your birthday.”
“I can't afford to call out sick” Louis could, in the abstract, afford to do so. He had been working 60 hour weeks to hit and exceed his 2600 hours quota for his end of year bonus and his base associates salary was high enough (though nothing compared to other associates, who had a third of his credentials and 0 percent of his melanin) that the second mortgage on the house was now officially paid off and the cars were in his name, that Maman could have a party once, maybe even twice a season, Grace could pay chapter dues at XULA on time, and Paul could tithe away someone's rent money as repentance for the evil deeds perpetuated by Louis, who defended demons (corporations and white collar criminals) for a living. However, it made him feel dirty taking the time off, especially when he still had student loans to pay. His father could not stand idleness despite his own, a trait he passed onto Louis. There was work to be done and money to be made and Louis would do it and make it, soul crushing or not.
“How much would you get paid to work on your birthday?” Lestat had taken out his checkbook already, committing his chickenscratch to paper. Louis closed the checkbook swiftly, teeth steel trap tight.
“You're not gonna pay me to ditch work Lestat”. Louis was firm in his response. Lestat was not his man, as much as he wanted him, and even if he was that was two damn bridges too far.
“I insist” Lestat pried open the checkbook and kept writing, making a mental note to have Roget look into who owned Louis’ student loan as an extra gift.
“And I insist that I'm going to my job on Monday. I'm not a kept man. I work for a living.” Lestat rolled his eyes. Always the stubborn one, his Louis. But stubborn did not mean unreasonable and Lestat could certainly make him see reason.
“Fine Ms. Independent. We'll go out tonight then. Call it an early celebration.” Something curled warm in Louis's stomach at Lestat calling him Ms. like that but he decided to ignore it. He had to go back home to talk to their accountant and help Grace with an essay and Lestat was taking up too much of his brain power already. Pondering his gender and sexuality would only take up more precious real estate he was not in a position to waste. Louis bucked up instead, puffed his chest out a bit more.
“That works. Come get me at 10:30. We can pregame at yours. Bring a bottle of Remy, sh*ts way too expensive at the club.”
…
Louis fixed his eyes to look at his sister down the kitchen table, her eyes darting over to her buzzing cellphone instead of her Baldwin essay that was due in a couple days. “Grace, tell that lil boyfriend of yours he cant stay the night no more”. That took her eyes off the phone, a blush visible even with the brown of her skin.
“Levi is my fiancee and we ain't even did nothing! We were studying.” Grace said adamantly, hand moving to make sure no hickeys were visible on her skin.
“Studying what? Human anatomy? Ion need to hear you two learning about each other.” Louis (and obviously Grace) had been kept up all hours of the night with the giggling and barely hushed moans from Graces room. If that had been Louis at her age, hell his age now, both he and whatever lil boy he was dumb enough to hunch on in the house would have been dropped summarily onto the street corner, backs torn up like runaway slaves. Pays to be the favorite.
“Have to be home to hear that” Grace muttered out the side of her mouth. Louis shot her a look and she went back to writing while Louis kept talking.
“I’m home at nights”
“Some nights. And tell me why Uncle Yee Yee saw you up in the quarter with that white man… again.” Louis paused in fear for just a second, maybe a second too long. Grace had always been less judgemental of his… proclivities than his mother or brother but it didn't mean it isn't terrifying to be noticed like that.
“He's my friend. He makes good investments. And he not even white like that. He's French and Italian ” Louis tried to sound smug but his attraction to Lestat made it difficult.
“Mhm. You hear how that sounds right?”
“Yeah yeah niggette, finish yo essay.”
“If he's your friend, have him come to dinner on Monday, I'm tryna meet this white man who's not a white man. And he’s European, Maman would love that. Gives her an excuse to bring out the Good Good China”
“She wasn't bringing it out already? I’m only good enough for ‘Good China’?” Grace started giggling at her brothers distress over plates then tried to sober up.
“Louis you're distracting me. And I'm serious about your lil friend. Invite him.”
“Alright, fine. I'll see if he's free” Louis waved his hand as he pulled out his Motorola razor and forwarded his text evite to Lestat. Lestat responded almost immediately with a “yeth uf curset” which Louis took to be an acceptance. The thought of Lestats hands typing on his itty bitty phone keyboard made Louis smile, which he suppressed once he saw Grace looking at him.
“He said he’ll be there” Louis said, unable to keep the smile out his voice.
“Lovely, Now, James Baldwin is… who again?”
…
“Lestat, imma be… so forreal with you right now. Ion think we can leave. We too f*cked up” They were essentially in each others laps on the couch Louis picked out from the nice home goods store in Lestat’s living room, floating high as hell. Lestat had supplied the liquor, two bottles of Dom Perignon that he insisted they drink instead of Remy “As a testament to their friendship, my Saint” and Louis the bud, which Louis had ensured was not laced or too damn loud, and they alternated between the two like hummingbirds, both as crossed as a four way intersection bisected by a train. If Louis squinted he could hear colors. Lestat really needed to pee and repeated it every 15 seconds.
“Bullsh*t. I could pass two sobriety tests right now” Lestat attempted to stand to show him but could not figure out how to get his feet unstuck from the ground. Lestat put his head in his hands in defeat, sobs racking his body. Louis shifted to comfort him, pressing his chest to Lestat's back and rubbing his hands in smooth circles along the blond's chest, shushing him the way one would shush a baby or a rowdy dog, making Lestat purr and lean back and to his side so that they were spooning.
“What's wrong baby?” Louis was only ever sweet like this when drunk, and the stretched-out syllables of the pet name warmed Lestat’s chest more than alcohol ever could. He rolled over to face Louis, gazing adoringly at his beautiful doe eyes, the beauty marks dotting his face like stars, the soft curve of his lip. God, he could kiss him right now.
‘I really wanted to go dancing with you. I wanted to show you a good time. You deserve it.” Lestat bemoaned. Louis’ face warmed.
“No I don't”
“Yes, you do. You deserve everything good in this world and more. You're smart, and beautiful, and compassionate and so kind, even when you have no reason to be and I bet you can suck like a hoover.” Louis smiled deeply until the last line caught up to them and he made a face. “I'm the luckiest man alive cus I get to take you dancing but I can't do that cus I can't get my feet off the f*ckin floor!!!” Lestat began crying harder. Louis shushed him again.
“Baby. You have to put your feet on the floor to stand. You want the rest of you in the air.”
Lestat tried it, planted his feet on the ground and raised the rest of his body up and suddenly he was off the couch. He got up. He could stand. He could stand! Lestat turned around and hoisted his savior onto his feet and held him close to his chest. He smelled like champagne and the color pink. He smelled like the love of his life.
They rocked there for some time, swaying slightly side to side as if palm trees on the shore, Louis’s arms around Lestat’s neck, head pressed to clavicle while Lestat's hands sat almost too low on his waist. Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, Lestat had an idea.
“Give me a second”. Lestat scrambled over to his cd collection, searching for the correct mix for the moment. He decided on Songs For Louis No. 25. It felt apt. He placed the cd in the slot and pushed in, skipped 6 songs into the mixtape and let it play. Grover Washington Jr. 's Just The Two of Us (extended version) wafted through the living room, the bass boosting on the stereo slightly warping the lyrics so Lestat turned it down until the song could be heard clearly in its entirety.
He returned to Louis, who had gone back to sitting all ladylike on the couch, one knee crossed over the other. Lestat bowed at the waist and extended his hand to Louis. “May I have this dance, Mon Cher?” Louis nodded and rose to his feet, his face warmed by Lestat kissing his hand as if he was a princess at a ball.
They assumed their positions and stood facing each other, hands clasped in the others as they made their way around the room, spinning in tight circles in time with the bass of the song. Lestat led, twirling Louis around himself, occasionally hugging their back to his chest with both arms wrapped around him as if he couldn't stand to lose him for a moment. He couldn't. By the time the saxophone solo hit though, the combination of depressants in their systems made true coordination difficult so they simply held each other and swayed in a tight circle the way middle schoolers do with their first crush at a dance.
Louis looked up at Lestat. His hair had long since fallen out of its ponytail holder and framed his face like a halo of light, making him look even more beautiful than he already was. They could not believe how in love he was with a stupid white man who was sweet and honestly pretty intelligent all things considered and he held him so tenderly as if there was nothing more valuable than him. There might not be, according to Lestat. Louis didnt believe this himself but if Lestat said it enough, he may start to.
Louis, emboldened by the liquor in his system, the synced pounding of his and Lestat’s hearts in their chests, and the well of emotion threatening to swallow him whole, took the other mans face in his hands and kissed him once, just to get the feel of Lestat’s lips on his, just to get it out of his system so he could stop being like this, could go live a normal life, one he wouldn't be sent to conversion therapy for, and never have to think about strong hands on his thighs, or how his embrace felt like home and how he only really felt like Louis when Lestat was around. Jesus Christ I am sick, Louis thought as they kissed him again, this time more passionately. Lestat immediately reciprocated, keeping his hand at the back of Louis’s neck, careful not to ruin the finger waves Louis had so elegantly styled his hair in.
The pair stumbled their way over to the couch, lips intertwined like they didn't need to breathe. Lestat fell back onto the couch and Louis quickly stripped, tugging off his tank top and pants until he was just in his underwear. Louis climbed into his lap and straddled him, kissing up Lestat’s neck while their fingers worked deftly to take off Lestat’s dress shirt while the other man shifted his hips up to rid himself of his pants. Lestat’s hand went to cup Louis’s face softly, thumb parting Louis' beautiful lips. Louis could stand it no longer and began to suck and lick Lestat’s thumb as if it were a co*ck, moaning around it as Lestat began to massage his tongue with the flat pad of the digit. Lestat replaced his thumb with his middle and ring finger and Louis did much of the same, creating a vacuum with his mouth while using the flat of his tongue to lick at where the fingers met the palm while Lestat f*cked his fingers in and out of his mouth.
“Such a greedy little bitch. You want me that bad?” Louis nodded, almost staining Lestat’s briefs from grinding down on his erection. Lestat pulled his fingers out of the vice once they were wet enough for him while Louis whined at the loss. “Don't worry Mon Cher, we’ll find something else for you to suck.”
…
“ So, my takeaway from that story is… you weren't a virgin when you got married?” Claudia sat and looked confused. How was that gonna help her get a man? Louis sighed. This was all wrong.
“No Claudia, I was still a virgin when I got married, we only did hand and mouth stuff that night. We both wanted to be sober if we went farther. And your takeaway from that story should be that you should try to find an emotional connection with a man. I don't think I would have been with your father if we weren't friends before we started seeing each other. Do that make sense?”
“Yeah” So she just needed to become Charlie's friend, then he’d hold her. Seemed simple enough. First step. Make a friend. How did she do that? Claudia scrunched up her face as her father took out a spray bottle and aimed it right at her eyes.
“Claudia relax, its just setting spray, and dont scrunch up your face like that, you're gonna make the makeup crease and its gon look weird. Just close your eyes baby ok?” Louis’s hands moved to smooth out her eyebrows until her face softened and she sat still. He pumped the nozzle, once, then again, and again until he was satisfied the makeup wasnt moving. He looked up at his handiwork.
“Ok, I’m done, take a look”. Claudia turned to sit princess style on the bench and looked up at her reflection. Hm.. She, honestly didnt think she looked all that different aside from the lashes, which made her eyes feel heavy. Her pores were smoother and the pencil under and around her eyes made them look bigger, which fit with the lashes. Her father had opted not to use the bright red lipstick she bought, instead going for a lighter pink lip tint which went with her bronze eyeshadow. She looked great, of course. And she felt good. Her father had done a good job. She just thought the makeup would make her feel more grownup, empowered, like a girlboss even. This… just felt like there was stuff on her face.
Louis hugged his daughters shoulders, leaned his head against her collarbone so he wouldnt f*ck up his hard work. “How do you feel? Do you like it?”
“I feel like the makeup industry Lied to me” Claudia said, examining her face in the mirror.
“You're telling me. This setting spray is supposed to be animal cruelty free and they tested it on your father. Look, they have his picture on it and everything!”
March 23rd, 2024
6:59 PM
This was untenable. Armand had called 7 other restaurants in the area that he knew were halal and common allergen free and they had either been summarily dismissed by Louis or Claudia, who only gave answers through the locked door to his (now their) bedroom or had no tables available for such a large party on such short notice, even with the suggestion of serious cash inflow or bodily harm. Lestat had little luck either. The smaller children could not come to a consensus on what they wanted or would spout nonsense suggestions to give their father false hope, sensing the urgency in his eyes. The two men came together in the living room, foreheads pressed together to try and figure out what the f*ck to do.
“Maybe if we kick down the door he'll say where he wants to go.” Armand sighed in frustration.
“Lestat, why must everything be violence with you? There has to be a simpler way to approach this.” Armand paced around the room then popped up as if there was a lightbulb above his head. “I got it! We wrestle naked and the sounds will force Louis to come out and join us then afterwards he'll be so hungry he'll go wherever we say”
“We wouldn’t have enough space and the kids need to eat before 8. I don't want them going this long without a hot meal.” Lestat threw his hands up in frustration and stomped over to the end table to grab his phone “f*ck it, lets just pick, order, then ask for forgiveness”. Lestat went to dial the first place Claudia suggested and Armand smacked the phone out of his hand, shattering the screen further and knocking two of the little charms off the side of the mostly decorative case. “WHAT THE f*ck” Lestat shouted, face growing redder and redder.
“We can't order if we don't know what he wants you stupid f*ck!!” Armand snatched the phone up and shook it at Lestat, who took great offense to the gesture and made to tackle him.
“I want you to stop yelling.” A voice emerged from behind the two squabbling men, soft and cool. It was Louis, looking beautiful and statuesque as always and Claudia, looking simply beautiful as usual. He had changed from his Black airport loungewear set to an ochre satin halter top and skirt set that tapered at his delicate ankles, left his skin glowing, and showed off his figure very, very well. He capped it off with a matching white long-sleeved flowy top that covered the straps of his binder in the back, and strappy, prohibitively expensive white YSL heels, the type Lestat or Armand would have to carry them over grates when he wore them out (Louis could certainly walk over grates in them, he just didn't want to), and white rimmed geometric sunglasses. He smelled of honey, vanilla, and ovulation (his favorite perfume to wear when he was pregnant).
Claudia meanwhile, was dressed in a 70s blue jean collared jumpsuit, zipper done halfway to show the white longsleeve turtleneck bodysuit underneath, one of Lestat's silver belt chains he was certain he lost two weeks ago and a pair of big ass doc martens, also probably stolen from her father, as they sadly shared the same shoe size. Her red bandana was emboldened in pink and white hearts and her sunglasses were white to match her father's and she smelled of Japanese Cherry Blossom from Bath and Body Works, a scent she stole off her cousins.
“The two of you look beautiful” Lestat said, eyes going from his husband to his daughter.
“We know” they said in unison.
Louis walked over to the two of them, a quiet ‘click’ generating as he made his way over into the conversation pit the two men were about to fight in. In the heels he could almost see over his husband and was eye to eye with Armand. He gave the two men a once over. “My daughter’s hungry”
“I could eat Subway, I'm that hungry” Claudia said from her vantage point at the top of the stairs. A shudder rocked Lestat. What type of father was he?
“My love, we were just about to order.” Armand handed the phone into Louis’s awaiting palm, kept his eyes down to look more submissive so Louis would take pity on him and caress his chin. Louis backed up to look at the phone, simply entered in his husband’s password (Gabrielle then Louis’s birthday) and scrolled through his cart at an upscale Nigerian place. It was good, perfect even; the owners didn't use peanuts or tree nuts due to an allergy in the family and it was halal. It had a James Beard award. It was near the theater the improv show was at. They even had a (limited) kids menu for Viktor. Louis thought about stretching this out, making them beg and plead for him to say something, anything. But he was in a benevolent mood. Besides, they all needed to eat something, and Armand lived in an ingredients household and nobody was trying to figure out his damn stove after several hours in the worst gridlock they had seen in years. Louis alternated his gaze between Armand and Lestat, the added height making him feel powerful.
“Whoever can get us a table there within the next 20 minutes will get a very special reward.”. Louis walked off with Claudia, Lestat and Armand watching his hips move as they walked off down the hall to get the younger kids ready to leave. Louis leaned down into Claudia’s ear. “That's how you get a man”. Claudia nodded sagely.
“Whats the reward?” Claudia asked, pushing open the door to the kids room.
“Firm handshake”. Louis replied flippantly. It was mostly a lie of course. He was going to suck the soul outta one of them but she didn’t need to know that. Besides they would get a firm handshake before or after, their choice.
5 minutes later the table was secured, the car was called, and Louis made very good on his promise.
…
March 23rd, 2024
7:51 pm
Jealousy reared its uglyass head as Lestat looked down the table at Armand and Louis, immersed in conversation about what felt like f*ck all. Friendship be damned, Armand's hand should not be resting on his husband's elbow like that and his husband should not be leaning in that close to Armand. He had ears, he could hear. Especially since they were sitting right next to each other!
“How’s Paul doing?” Armand asked between swallows of Nsala soup and Eba.
“Oh he's good! He’s watching the house for us right now. Someone keeps stealing the copper wiring out our sh*t, prolly to do some trailer park deals or some sh*t and I'm hoping having someone at the house while we gone will stop it” Lestat and Claudia’s eyes darted to look at each other. How did he know about their trailer park deals? They both decided to Change The Subject.
“Armand, how are Benji and Sybelle?”
“Daddy why’d you lie to me about your age?” Movement at the table stopped as the rest of the table turned to look at Claudia and her father. Lestat, the little gossipmonger he is, turned to Claudia to figure out what the f*ck she was talking about.
“Benji and Sybelle are g-”
“f*ck them autism creachers, Your father lies about his age?” Lestat cut Armand off swiftly to chagrin of his husband and currently oldest friend.
Claudia straightened her back up. “Well you said you turned 25 in 2004. But you were born in 1981. You would have turned 23 in 2004”
“Must’ve gotten the date wrong then. It happens when you get old Claudia” Louis tried to wave it off, turned to tell Rose to eat her pepper soup.
“Yeah but you also said your first memory was your parents freaking out when Reagan was shot, which was in 1981. You’d be a baby then”
"Claudia what are you looking to get out this interaction, hm?”
“I just wanna know why you're lying about your age?”
“Claudia, I'm not lying about my age. I’ve had three kids and I take lithium, you're lucky I remember where I am currently. Now drop it.” Louis said in that tone that meant drop it. Again, He sounded like his mother but he wasnt going to interrogate that right now.
“But-”
“Claudia. If you want to get on someone for lying, get on your father. Do you really think he played violin on both the Thong Song and Back That Azz Up?”
“Now why am I in it?” Lestat asked. He had played violin on both songs, just not their original recordings.
“Cus you keep lying! About easily verifiable things!” Louis teased. Lestat would say just about anything, for reasons that truly escaped Louis. His therapist said that Lestat had a deep need for attention due to his personality disorder and little to no brain-to-mouth filter due to his neurodivergencies so he would just blurt out whatever came to mind, untrue halftrue or anytrue. Louis did not see the need to pathologize his behavior,chalked it up to a consequence of being raised weird and white.
“Well isn't that the pot calling the kettle-” Lestat stopped himself with a swiftness when he saw the looks on Claudia and Louis’s faces. That would be a doghouse he could not charm his way out of so he shut his mouth, focused on the Asun and yellow rice on the plate. That sh*t was gass too.
“What? Calling the kettle what Lestat?” Louis kept teasing Lestat, only stopped when he noticed Viktor began squirming and making grabby hands in his high chair, a classic sign that he needed to go. Louis got up, snatching up the baby bag from the chair next to him and held Viktor on his arm close to his chest as they walked to the family bathroom in the back of the restaurant, Armand and Lestats eyes watching him walk off, the fabric barely concealing how his ass moved when he walked. Lestat bit back the urge to whistle. He wasn't allowed to objectify Louis in front of the kids anymore, especially since having Viktor. Dr. Dixon wanted them to practice modeling less toxic forms of affection and attraction and that meant not catcalling Louis, even when he looked really, really good and catcallable.
Armand made to eat more soup, savoring the flavor of Maggi and Uzizi leaf in his soup as a way to distract himself from how well Louis’s clothes were fitting since having Viktor and how good he smelled as he walked by. Ramadan was a time for self reflecting and what was being reflected was that he was really f*cking gay. He felt a small tug on his shirt and turned to see Rose, her giant eyes made even more massive by how much she had widened them.
“Mr. De Last Name sir?”
“It's Mr. De Lassnamé and You don't have to call me by my last name honey. Armand is just fine” Armand swallowed more soup, wiped his hands off on his napkin so he wouldnt get his clothes or anything dirty, unlike Lestat and Claudia, who were just rawdogging life, eating Asun and pounded yam dripping in red palm oil while wearing crisp, clean, obviously expensive white shirts with no napkin in sight.
“Ok Mr. De Lassnamé. I have a question. Can you do an abortion on a baby that's outside already?” Viktor had gotten his saliva on one of her bobbles while in the car and Louis had to take all of them out and replace them with a new set because they had been forever tainted to her, which was quite sad as she really loved those bobbles; they were very shiny and a crow may have wanted one.
“No honey, that's called murder if they’re loose already” Lestat chimed in, mouth stained red with palm oil.
“Woah. Have you ever murdered someone?” Rose asked innocently. Armand laughed and changed the subject immediately. She did not need to be that much in his business.
“You wanna hear a animal fact?” Rose gasped and nodded her head. She loved animals, and especially facts about them. Rose would catalogue any animal she saw on their family walks and Louis and her would find a little fact about them for her to write down and Lestat and her would draw a picture of the animal together in a little book that said her name on it and everything. She called it the Roseapedia, after herself and her 3rd favorite book, aside from Rats in Blenders and Wayne Barlowe’s Expedition, The Encylopedia. One time they saw eight chickens in one night, which felt like, to Rose, too many chickens to see in Audubon Park.
“Did you know the limbs of an octopus each have their own pseudobrain so they can operate unencumbered and untrammeled by the main head of the creature?”. Rose turned her head in slight confusion and Armand sighed. He did not know how to talk to children. The only memories he had from being her age was being barked at and a lingering fear of grown men. Worse still, his only frame of reference for children this age were his younger siblings Benji and the even smaller Sybelle, who both spoke like Harvard professors at a conference and began reading, not reciting, when they were in diapers.
“What he means is, the tentacles can move without the brain telling it to baby.” Louis came back from the bathroom with Viktor, who was smiling and suspiciously in a new outfit. Louis looked over to Lestat, eyes slightly hollow from whatever he saw in there, and simply mouthed the words “up his back” and left it at that. Lestat shuddered and made a note to start potty training him when they got back to Louisiana.
March 23rd, 2024
10:57 pm
“What was you favorite part of the show?” Lestat asked while they walked down the street, cars occasionally honking at them and random drunk white women saying they looked hot, polite thanks abound.
“Hm?” Louis looked up from his phone. He had been sent an, of all things, a meeting invite for tomorrow morning, a sunday, to get clarification about that stupid f*cking licensure agreement, even though he told the entire office and the university that he was on vacation at this time, which meant that he was not working, which meant don't f*cking email him, especially during an improv show that he was forced to be at and it was Not. His. Problem. He had declined of course, and could feel the spectre of ‘being a team player’ creeping up on him but he ignored it. He was on vacation with his family for Gods sake.
“I liked spending time with my two favorite people.” Louis pulled the two of them close, snaking his hand around Lestat's waist and Claudia’s shoulders as they walked, hoping their love of physical contact would distract them from Louis’s… thoughts on the show.
“So you liked the show?” Claudia asked. She and Lestat had both loved it, thought the actors were so funny and creative. Lestat even pulled some strings because he was still on good terms with one of the actors he habitually fingerf*cked when they were in a traveling production of Next to Normal together while he was in his cheating on Louis phase (Lestat played Dan, Deon was his understudy, you know how it goes) and got them backstage to meet and take pictures with the actors.
“Yall want ice cream? My treat!” Louis had… different thoughts on the show but he tried to not ruin their good time and kept his face neutral, even through remembering Santiagos 5 minute and 17 second (Louis counted) monologue about sh*tcum. It was apparently an audience favorite and the only static part of the show. Louis thought it should be changed. And that Santiago should be taken out back and shot like the rabid bottle-blond dog that he is but he didnt tell Claudia or Lestat that part.
“Daddy”
“Louis”
“Alright fine I hated it. It took every fiber of my being to not get up and leave and go see For Colored Girls.” Lestat almost scoffed.
“For colored girls??? Baby that show is so sad”. Louis’s mouth gaped as Lestat bemoaned his favorite show.
“It's moving and a beautiful expression for black women”
“It's sad as f*ck!”
“I watched it when I was Claudia’s age and I thought it was lovely”
“So that's why you're the way you are?” Claudia asked, still in her good mood from the show. She got to take a picture with Brennan Lee Mulligan and he liked her bandana so whatever sh*t her daddy had to say kinda didnt matter to her.
“Leave me be. It's just not my scene. The show was crass and the Santiago guy was a showboat, and some of their characters felt real minstrely if i'm being real.”
Before Lestat or perhaps a theater-struck Claudia could defend some of the more ‘artistic’ (racist) choices of the actors on stage pretending to be monkeys who spoke with an accent far too similar to Louis and Claudia's own to be comfortable, a shrill voice rang through the street, stopping them in their tracks.
“Lestat? Is that you” Lestat’s blood ran cold and he looked out the corner of his eye, only to confirm his worst fears. f*ck. Yup, that was Antoinette. Coming towards him, while Louis and Claudia were there. Lestat turned to look at Louis, his delicate features schooled into something close to rage, closer to southern mom bitchiness. This was not going to be good.
“Oh My gosh how are you? I saw that you were in the city on your instagram story but I didnt know you were gonna be at The Pit! I work right across the street at the lounge we should get dinner sometime since you're in the city.” Antoinette slid her hand up Lestats arm with practiced familiarity and Louis seethed from his position next to Lestat, gripping his arm tighter to compensate. Lestat had the decency to look embarrassed and annoyed that she was touching him and pulled his arm out of her grasp.
<“Is this the hoe?”> Claudia stage whispered to her daddy in French, narrowing her eyes. Claudia already didnt like her and it made her see her father in a different light. She knew her father made bad decisions sometimes but that? Her perfume was nasty, much too thick and had the vague undertone of unbathed whitey, that pennies in the rain smell. She also had a botched bbl. He destroyed his home and could only see her on weekends for 2 years for that?
<“Dont call women hoes but yes this is the bitch”> Louis replied, stepping up so that he was in the middle of Lestat and Antoinette, a position Lestat had once offered as a consession during the period of sanctioned unsanctioned infidelity they had going on but the thought of a white woman seeing him naked and touching him made him want to vomit so it never got out the groupchat as it were.
“Hello Antoinette” Louis said, barely able to mask the bitchiness in their voice. Antointette looked up at him, smiled politely at best.
“Oh, Louis, you're here too. And thats great. How are you doing?”
“I'm good. We’re renewing our vows next year. Pregnant with his child. You know how it goes” Louis placed a comforting hand on their belly, specifically placed to show off his new engagement ring on his left hand while Lestat did the same, wrapped his arm around Louis’s waist so his hand lay on top of theirs. It didnt matter that the lil guy was gonna get thrown up outta there like Jazzy Jeff on the Fresh Prince in 31 hours, what mattered was the look of barely restrained grimace on Antoinettes face when his hand went to his belly then to Claudia’s shoulders.
“Wow, thats good. Great for you even.” Antoinette turned her head, finally remembered Claudia was there. “And this must be Claudia, love the braids” Antoinette reached her grubby ass hands out to feel up Claudias braids but multiple hands mushed her in the forehead, stopping her in her tracks.
“Don’t touch my daughter’s hair, the f*ck?” Louis and Lestat said in unison, putting space between Claudia and the offending white bitch. Louis was currently making a pros and cons list for knocking her extensions outta her skull but ultimately decided not to due to the racial optics, his pregnancy and the fact he’d have to take off his shoes to do it and being barefoot on New York City concrete was a recipe for something Jesus couldnt cure with 40 days and 40 nights of trying.
“Alright, Antoinette, this has not been fun. We have to go.” Louis said, the urge to cuss this heffa out growing stronger and stronger the more she stood there looking dumbfounded that she couldnt just touch random Black children. He tugged on Lestats shirt and he got the message immediately, turning around and walking to the curb so they could get the f*ck up outta here.
“Oh, alright, Lestat we should catch up soon” Antoinette said as they were walking away, pointing at her cell phone.
“Ha! No, I’m good” Lestat said, pointedly not saying goodbye and hailing a taxi so they could get as far from her as possible. The taxi came quickly (thank you white privilege) and Lestat opened the door for his husband and Daughter, told the driver Armand’s address.
“You should shower more often, you smell like mildew and dog tiddies!” Claudia yelled out the window as the taxi stopped at a red light. Louis, against his better judgement, also stuck his head out the window and yelled:
“And stay the f*ck away from my man, nasty-ass-racist-ass-cant-sing-ass-bad-body-built-ass-Michael-Jackson-in-2007-face-ass homewrecking bitch!” Lestat began guffawing at the display from his seat in the car, laughed even harder when Louis came back in the car, demanded to see his phone and blocked Antoinette’s official account from his professional account and her burner account from his personal instagram. Louis turned to him, face like granite, and leaned in so only Lestat could hear:
< “I’m gonna write my name on your chest, then I’m going to ride you into the mattress and send a video to that bitch. Show her who you belong to.”>. Lestat’s heart skipped a beat and his eyes widened, moving from side to side in excitement.
51 minutes later they were back at Armand’s penthouse, all three children put to bed with a truncated bedtime story, love and kisses, and promises of trips to the Aquarium and shopping tomorrow. Armand was presumably off to Munich, leaving them with a quiet apartment and a Texas King with a mirror above it to get freak nasty in.
Louis made very, very, good on his promise. Or at least the first parts of it. In their f*cked out and blissful state, examining the claw marks up and down Lestats back and ass, they completely forgot about sending the video to her or even who she was. All Louis could think of was Lestat, lying on top of him, placing lazy kisses on his chest and collarbone while whispering sweet nothings to him, wearing, finally, his own f*cking bonnet.
