Free Sparkle: The Queerest Book You'll Ever Love by Rob Rosen

what I say, Secret? Fuck ‘em. I was able to take control of my trust fund when I turned twenty-one and have had very little need or desire to associate with them ever since.” Now I was beginning to see how Sparkle got to be Sparkle. I could also sense that he wasn’t exactly as happy about his family situation as he was letting on to be. Not if that frown on his face meant anything.
    I got a quick tour of the house as we hurried to the kitchen, where we found a note that Sparkle snatched up and started to read out loud. “Mother and Father, I have stocked the refrigerator and cupboards with the provisions you have asked for. I am looking forward to our little visit and will see you on Wednesday evening. Yours lovingly, Lance.” He paused and then looked back over at me. “Well, well, well,” he said, appearing a bit crestfallen, “it would seem that Mummy and Daddy are arriving sooner than usual, and my dear brother, Lance, will be joining them. How lovely for them.” Sparkle again paused for a moment to collect himself. I couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through his head, because, except for the fact that my family had no clue that I was gay, we were a fairly tight-knit group. If it was me, and my family was in town and had no intention of calling and letting me know that they were there, I would be devastated. Still, I had a strong suspicion that Sparkle did not devastate so easily. He was like a storm shelter that way, buried deep into the earth, with lots of provisions, mostly of the prescription kind.
    “Well, fuck ‘em,” I tossed in, trying to cut through the tension. Besides, it seemed to be the answer of the day.
    “Exactly, Secret. Fuck ‘em. And, anyway, my dear brother was kind enough to provide us with what I’m sure will be a fine lunch. Let’s just see what we have here,” he said as he walked over to the refrigerator.
    He opened the door, and, as he had predicted, it was full of meats, cheeses, fruits, and juices. The cabinets were full of equally fabulous things: crackers, spreads, cereals, breads, canned items, and, most importantly, wines. My stomach was doing back flips, as, by that time, I was ravenous.
    “It would appear that my brother has outdone himself,” Sparkle commented, with obvious traces of derision in his voice. I sensed that there was no love lost between the two of them. “So, what’ll it be, Secret, turkey on white or ham and cheese on rye?”
    “Yes, please,” I answered, hungrier than Karen Carpenter on a liquid die, before adding, “Sparkle, can I ask you a question?” he shrugged as he went about preparing our lunch. “Now, you can tell me to fuck off if this is too personal or anything, but I get the distinct impression that you care just a little bit more than you’re letting on that your family didn’t let you know that they were in town this week.”
    “That wasn’t a question, Secret; that was a statement. And, yes, fuck off.”
    “Well, fine then; we won’t talk about it. I just thought you might like to get it off your chest or something. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t talk about…”
    “Okay then, let’s stop talking about it,” Sparkle interrupted. Obviously, I’d hit on a touchy subject.
    “What would you like to talk about then?” I asked him.
    “Whatever. Just not that, okay?” He looked at me, and I could tell that he meant business. Besides, he had a massive kitchen knife in his hand, which he waved around, menacingly. I could just see the headlines: gay virgin hacked to death in Marin cottage . Not the way I wanted to go. Especially the virgin part.
    “Fine then… um… let’s see… what to talk about?…”
    “Secret, what was your major in college?” Sparkle stopped cutting the meat. I think he was starting to get a bit angry with me by that point.
    “Um, English Lit. Why?”
    “And you can’t think of anything to talk about except why I don’t get along with my parents?” He started