Friday, June 19
The New Town Street coffee shop in Tribeca is one of the best open mic spots according to Yelp—and Dylan, who has been here for the exact amount of time as the rest of us. I don’t have anything to compare it to, but it’s pretty cool. The first comedian we saw managed to finish off his set without being completely offensive, which is always a win. What sucks is how the lighting is really dim so you can’t really make out the paintings on the wall donated by artists for exposure. That’s like me donating my manuscript to a library only for it to be used as a doorstop.
Dylan returns with drinks—two ginger ales for Samantha and himself, a Pepsi for me, a lemonade for Mario—and we toast to our night out. It’s been almost an hour and I haven’t heard from Arthur yet. I even texted him a look who’s late now joke, but no response. I’m going to give it another ten, fifteen minutes before I call him to make sure he’s okay. I wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep in front of his laptop while rewatching Waitress covers like he’s been known to.
“Please welcome the Pac-People to the stage!” the host says.
“Woooo!” Samantha cheers, and Dylan keeps pumping his fist like he’s at some sports game.
“Who are they?” Mario asks.
“Yo no sé times a hundred,” I say.
“Patrick recommended them to me,” Samantha says. “The Pac-People were trending on TikTok and he thought I’d like their sound.”
“Patrick may be right about one thing,” Dylan says.
“What about when he said he liked your man bun?” Samantha asks.
Dylan raises his chin indignantly. “I happen to disagree with him. Man buns are out.”
I pay him no mind and focus on the Pac-People, who are setting up onstage. There’s five of them, all dressed up in classic Pac-Man/Ms. Pac-Man and ghost colors—bright yellow, red, blue, pink, and yellow again. And once the music starts, it’s so energetic, it feels like something you would hear during a really fun level in a video game. Mario hugs Dylan from behind and sways with him, and Dylan is not shy at all about dancing.
“Hold my drink, babe,” Dylan says, handing his ginger ale to Samantha, which she double-fists like a champ.
“Sostén mi bebida, Alejo,” Mario says, handing me his lemonade.
“Boys will be boys?” Samantha asks me.
“Mario and Dylan will be Mario and Dylan,” I say.
They’ve been really chill with Mario tonight, and Dylan has only made ten you’re-stealing-my-best-friend jokes. I need Dylan to step up his game because Samantha and I have five dollars on the line here on how many times Dylan harasses Mario on my move to LA by the end of the night.
“So cute,” someone says as they pass our guys.
“Thanks!” Dylan says.
“He makes confidence look exhausting,” I say.
“And exhilarating,” Samantha says with a smile.
“I won’t tell him you said that.”
“I tell him enough.”
“Samantha, you’re feeding the beast!”
“I knoooow.”
The Pac-People put up another song, and Dylan and Samantha turn to each other and cheer.
“ ‘Ballad of Aphrodite’!” they say at the same time.
Samantha pulls Dylan away from Mario and they sway together.
“This sounds like Cupid created a song with only a harp and an electronic keyboard,” Mario says.
“And it kind of works though, right?”
He holds out his hand. “Let’s see if it works.”
“How do you even dance to this?” I ask.
Mario grabs me by the wrists and moves me around like I’m some puppet. “Don’t know, don’t care. You just move.”
And I move with him, laughing, up until his phone rings.
“It’s my uncle. Mind if I get this?”
“¡Ve! ¡Ve!”
Mario turns to leave, but comes back and gives me a kiss before heading toward the front door. Between this kiss and the ones he’s given me all week whenever we’ve greeted each other, this is what I’ve been missing with him the entire time.
While Dylan and Samantha are busy swaying, I call Arthur. It rings once before going to voice mail. It’s immediately followed with a text: Be there in five mins, sorry!
Yay! I type back.
I’m watching the Pac-People finish their set when Mario comes back and drags me to the front door with the biggest smile on his face.
“I have news,” Mario says. “I have the news.”
“The show—”
“The show sold in a bidding war! It’s all happening!” Mario bounces around, almost like someone hammering the jump button in a Super Mario game. He stops and grabs my hands. “Alejo, I feel like my dreams are coming true. I’m going to get to work on a TV show and help bring some androids alive. Power them on. Whatever. Wow. WOW! I can’t believe this.”
He stands there, frozen. Like he’s imagining his amazing future.
Now I’m doing the same.
Mario will go to Los Angeles and I’m going to follow him. This is the most exciting fresh start ever.
He grabs my hand. “There’s more, Alejo.”
“Oh my God. What?”
Maybe he’ll be more than an assistant on the show.
“So Tío Carlos has a lot of industry contacts, obviously, and he’s friends with this one film agent at UTA—the United Talent Agency. The agent Dariel is this queer man who loves fantasy stories. Carlos brought up The Wicked Wizard War.”
I’m almost sure I’ve heard him wrong. “Say what? Your uncle knows about that?”
“Of course. I told him how much I love it.”
Mario really does have me on his mind, even when I’m out of sight.
“But I’m not done with my revision.”
“You’ll get there. Dariel is really into the premise and could recommend some literary agents, too, if he likes the book.”
This is really exciting and also really overwhelming. I feel like I should run home and get to work in case this offer has an expiration date.
I’m so grateful that I want to kiss him. When I lean in, I hear my name—out of Arthur’s mouth.
“Sorry I’m late, but surprise!”
Arthur is holding Mikey’s hand—the same Mikey who’s supposed to be in Boston. My stomach drops. Seeing them together makes me want to cling to Mario even more.
“Wow. Hey, Mikey.”
“Hi!”
I lead Arthur, Mikey, and Mario back to our table, right as Dylan and Samantha are returning to their seats. Dylan does a double take before he launches straight into Mikey’s arms.
“Triple date!” Dylan shouts. “The very first in the history of the world!”
“That can’t be right,” Mikey says.
“What brings you back?” Samantha asks. “You here for another Broadway show?”
“I wanted to surprise Arthur. Just because.”
“And surprise Arthur you did!” Arthur says.
“I’m going to grab a drink,” Mikey says. “You want a Sprite?”
“Perfect,” Arthur says. Then after Mikey walks off, he stares blankly at the next comedian to come onstage.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask.
“Perfect,” Arthur says again, even though there are tears forming in his eyes.
I inch closer to him. “Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”
It’s heartbreaking to see him like this.
Arthur shakes his head. “I can’t. I mean, I don’t need to. Everything is fine. I’m like that GIF of the dog in the hat who’s saying everything is fine even though there’s a fire. Except there’s no fire.”
I want to stop time and only talk to Arthur. No Mikey, no Mario. No one else. I want him to be honest with me so I can be there for him like he obviously needs right now. But he’s not letting me.
He’s acting like he’s listening to the comedian, fake-laughing to jokes that Mario and Dylan are genuinely reacting to.
Mikey returns with drinks. “Sorry I took so long.”
“No need to say sorry. You’re banned from apologizing forever,” Arthur says.
Seriously, what did Mikey do to him?
Or what did Arthur do to Mikey?
I can’t get comfortable during the next couple sets. Someone sings “Jingle Bell Rock.” Mikey remarks how that’s a choice and praises her singing. Then two people do improv, which is hard to watch, and Dylan is not having any of that shit either, so he turns his back on them.
When the host comes back to the stage, he says, “Next up is Mikey!”
Arthur’s eyes widen. “Oh wow. Yay!”
The thing is, as much as Arthur loves Broadway, he’s no actor. I can tell that he’s not as enthusiastic as he’s pretending to be. Whatever he’s going through, maybe Mikey is doing this to cheer him up?
Mikey kisses the top of Arthur’s head and walks to the stage. He grabs the mic and says, “This is dedicated to my boyfriend, Arthur. You deserve big moments, and this is the first of many more.”
“Awww,” Dylan says, rubbing Arthur’s knee.
Someone begins playing the piano.
“ ‘Arthur’s Theme’!” Mario shouts. “Great pick!”
I’ve never heard this song before. I’m speechless when Mikey sings about getting caught between the moon and New York City. His voice is gorgeous and my eyes water at how beautiful this is. Under this spotlight, Mikey is so endearing as he sings into the mic, “The best that you can do is fall in love.”
I push my chair back and stand.
Mario smiles up at me. “You good?”
I mutter something about the bathroom, and then I get the fuck out.
I should be happy for Arthur. He deserves this, right? He deserves a boyfriend who will deliver personal Broadway-worthy performances and surprise him just because. I could never in a million years give Arthur the kind of moment Mikey’s giving him right now.
And sure, maybe Arthur wasn’t happy when he walked into the bar tonight. Maybe he and Mikey aren’t perfect. But I speak Arthur’s language better than anyone, and I know exactly what this sort of grand gesture means to him. Whatever the two of them were going through, I’m sure it all went out the window the minute Mikey stepped onto that stage. I’m sure they’ll go home and have sex and make a bunch of big tearful love declarations.
That’s totally fine. I can have my own do-overs, too.