Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Markus Fucking Nelson

Today is an ACTUAL writing day (I promise!!) so I'm going to give you guys a sneak peek at one of the novels I'm writing.

Ultra-Conservative Republican, Markus Nelson, is a very successful businessman who is so closeted that it takes his lesbian sister to tell him that he's gay and a waiter at one of his favorite restaurants to prove it to him.  Markus falls head over heels for this waiter, Ethan, and in no time at all he's engaging in a clandestine relationship with him, even going so far as to move Ethan into his home.  However, Markus doesn't see why he should have to "come out of the closet."  He refuses to even consider tarnishing his reputation by admitting publicly that he is gay.  It takes an ultimatum from his "secret boyfriend," a disastrous birthday party, a few blackmail photos and letters and someone trying to kill his man before "Markus Fucking Nelson" begins to see that living his truth out loud and without shame is the most honorable and the most courageous thing that he could ever do.





                “You know you’re gay right?” my sister whispered in my ear as we walked towards our table. 
I chuckled softly, “Tiff, I can’t be gay, I’m a Republican,” I pointed out to her as we sat at our reserved table and settled into our seats. 
“Another tragedy.  I don’t see how I, the most liberal, card carrying member of PFLAG, a lipstick lesbian, got stuck with having a Republican for a brother,” Tiffany’s smile was indulgent, her sigh exasperated. 
“You poor thing,” I teased her as I looked back at my menu, my mind immediately going over my plans for the rest of the night as I decided what to order.  I ignored Tiffany as she once again pointed out why I absolutely had to be a homosexual.  It was an old debate and one I had no desire to indulge in with her.  I couldn’t figure out why she had suddenly latched onto the idea of me being gay, I guess her being the only one of our parent’s children who was gay, wasn’t suitable, she wanted the both of us to be gay.  My parents had suffered enough though and I wasn’t going to compound their problems, by giving my Ultra Conservative Republican parents a gay son on top of an unemployed, flighty, lesbian daughter. 
Tiffany continued to chatter and I continued to ignore her.  I knew that she could tell that I was ignoring her, that I wasn't paying any attention, but sometimes I think that Tiffany talks just to hear herself speak.  Then again, she was a woman, I hear they do that a lot.  I wouldn’t know, I usually fucked them and then sent them on their way, if they stuck around for the night, they usually thought that that meant that they were sticking around forever.  That would never happen.  No one got a chance to stick around forever in my love life, it was too messy and I didn’t do messy.  Or complicated.  And I certainly didn’t do gay. 
“-And Mark if you would just stop trying to be this unattainable perfect version of the perfect son, the perfect man, the perfect fucking Republican, then maybe you could be happy with your shitload of money rather than complaining about it all of the goddamned time,” Tiffany hissed at me and I looked up, finally, to stare into her hazel eyes that were so much like mine.  I hadn’t realized that I had been annoying my baby sister with frustration with my life. 
I worked hard, as a matter of fact, Fortune Magazine called me the hardest working man in America.  I owned three different companies, had just branched out into acquisitions and mergers and had decided to snap up the few companies that I’d had my eye on.  I worked out fiercely when I wasn’t working and it seemed as though if I wasn’t working or working out at the gym then I was sleeping.  It was what my life consisted of: work, vanity and sleep.  I didn’t see a problem with that.  I did have a problem with the fact that the more money I made the more people seemed to pop up wanting some of it.  I was a bastard, I knew that, an asshole, but I wasn’t a complete bastard.  I donated money to a few charities, pledged thousands of dollars to orphanages and youth centers.  I was called a saint as well as the hardest working man in America.  I had women who threw themselves at me.  They all wanted to be the next Mrs. Nelson, none of them realized that there would never be a Mrs. Nelson. 
It wasn’t because I was gay like my sister thought, regardless of if I sometimes checked other men out or imagined what it would feel like to suck another man’s cock, to drink his sperm or to fuck his tight ass, those things did not make me gay, those things made me sleep deprived, horny and an even angrier bastard.  No, there would be no Mrs. Nelson because all of those women who threw themselves at me were gold-digging bitches, who would just as soon marry me, have children for me and then divorce me to get alimony and child support so they could have an illicit affair with the man they were really in love with as marry me and then kill me so they could get my life insurance and all of my money.  Tiffany had never understood that, never understood my acceptance of one night stands and my willingness to have short term affairs with women who never slept over and who knew at the beginning of our relationship that they were with me for two or three weeks and then that was it.  They would be gone and I would be satisfied…for a few days. 
Tiffany wanted the happily-ever-after, the marriage, the house, the kids, the minivan in the driveway, she just wanted it with another woman and she wanted me to have all of that with another man.  My sister was an idiot.  I didn’t care what this current President said, if he’d wanted to make gay marriage legal, he’d had a majority in the House and in the Senate when he’d first come into office, he could have passed it then, but he didn’t because he knew, just like every other self-respecting Republican and even some Liberals knew, gay marriages don’t work, they never would and more than that gay relationships were like romantic fairytales, good in theory, nice to dream about, but impossible in execution. 
I gave Tiffany my most charming smile, “Okay Tiff honey, you sound a little frustrated about me talking to you about my issues with my career and my finances, so I won’t talk to you about it anymore,” I reassured her.  I watched as she blinked and then growled softly in frustration, flipping her blonde hair back over her shoulder, my sister was beautiful, everyone said so, my buddies from college had remarked more than once that she was like a Christina Aguilera body double, both in face and form.  I didn’t compare my sister to anyone, she was my sister for Christ’s sake, but I knew she was beautiful.  Just like I knew that people found me attractive.  My black hair was cut short in the back, longer in the front and slicked back, always giving me the appearance of a professional man.  I had hazel eyes just like Tiffany and I went to great lengths to have a body like a fucking linebacker.  When I worked out I felt like a man, and a real man didn’t fantasize about other men. 
“That’s not what I meant you ass,” Tiffany stated furiously as she whipped out her napkin and shook it furiously before placing it over her lap.  “You’re unhappy Markus, I know you are.  I’m your sister, I know you and even sitting here looking in your eyes, I can see the sadness.  You’re not happy with your life and you’re hiding a big part of yourself and if you’d take your head out of your homophobic ass for a second, you’d realize that the reason you fight so hard to appear ‘not’ gay is because you are gay and you’re afraid of what people will think about you.  You’re not that scared, scrawny, super tall, twelve year old little boy anymore Markus.  You’re a grown ass man who owns companies and has a mansion with a butler, housekeeper, cook, gardener and chauffeur with three vacation homes, a private jet and more money than Croesus.  You’ve accomplished so much, you’ve filled out, you can take down any man that approaches you, so no one can hurt you when you’re finally honest with yourself that you’re gay.” 
I hated my sister.  I hated her for bringing up the past.  I hated her for seeing too much and knowing me too well.  I hated her for being right and I knew who I was.  I was Markus fucking Nelson and no one told me what I was, I told them.  Point blank, period. 
“Tiff, for the last time, I am not ga-“ my words cut off as I saw an angel walk towards our table and my breath caught in my throat.  Chestnut hair pulled back into a ponytail, strong cheekbones, slender neck, square jaw, green eyes, long, slim fingers, a slender build.  I was enchanted by this beauty.  I slid out of the booth and stood next to the table when this angel, my angel, stopped next to the table. 
“Hi, my name is Ethan and I’ll be your waiter tonight.  Is there anything I can start you off with?” this angel, this male angel said, eyeing me warily and I felt myself falter.  I looked helplessly into my sister’s eyes and saw them brimming with merriment.  She had seen my entire reaction, her eyes drifted down and she saw my erection pressing against the front of my black dress pants and she smirked.  I was caught, well and truly caught, lusting after a man.  What the hell was wrong with me? 
“You know what I think we’ll start with some champagne,” Tiffany said as I slowly sat back down in my seat, my eyes darting back from Ethan to Tiffany, my brain turned to mush, my body moving as if through sludge. 
“Oh, are you guys having a celebration?” Ethan asked with a smile as he wrote on his notepad and waited for us to either order our meal or ask him to give us a few minutes. 
Tiffany laughed in delight, “Oh yeah, we’re celebrating all right.  We’re celebrating the fact that my brother just came out of the closet.  He’s here, he’s queer, he’s Markus fucking Nelson!”  I watched as Ethan turned to look at me, his eyes wide, but a small smile curving his lips.  I wondered if that was because he knew who I was and he couldn’t wait to leak it to the tabloids or if it was for some other reason. 
“Well, welcome to the club Mr. Nelson.  We’re certainly glad to have you,” he said instead with an indulgent smile and all I could do was blink at him and then blink at my sister.  What was I supposed to say to that?  What did you say when you’d just been outed by your sister because you were ogling and fell headfirst into lust with your extremely hot waiter? 
“Thanks,” I said my voice raspy and ignored Tiffany as she exploded into laughter again.

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