Free The Beary Best Holiday Party Ever by B.G. Thomas Page B

whole club. And there was a lot of discussion about that one—whether to tell the members or not.
    Gary Alverez took it into his own hands with a white lie at the next meeting. He told the club they’d discovered they had miscounted and that technically meant Paddy should be their president, and then Paddy jumped up and said, “Forget that! To Ron! To Ron!” The room had roared its approval. Ron still wasn’t sure he liked it—considering a vote was a vote. But the board promised to never, ever do such a thing again. For any reason whatsoever.
    And after all, if the board had been found to have lied and resignations had been demanded, not only would the party have fallen apart, but the club could have wound up disbanded as well.
    So, for the good of the boys!
    And the party did not fall apart.
    Five hundred people showed up. The Heartland Bear Clan had never had such a turnout in all its years of operation. It was a smash.
    People came from as far away as Florida, although the farthest most came was Wichita or Topeka or St. Louis. Still, there were a few from Eureka Springs, Arkansas, and Springfield, Missouri, and Illinois. One group had come from Sacramento, California.
    Ron’s little bear articles helped. Paddy had sent a portfolio of his work to gay papers all over the country, and soon a half dozen or more were carrying his essays. From some of the comments he’d heard, they had helped bring the people in. That’s what the crew from Sacramento said.
    The cave was a wondrous miracle. People were in awe. Part real and part manmade, it looked marvelous before it was decorated. And boy, was it decorated. Not only with the huge bears the club had made together, but with the money they’d made on the bake sale, they’d been able to buy lots of lights and streamers and ribbons and other decorations. Some people donated stuff. A department store on Crown Center donated an enormous tree, complete with decorations. And, of course, there were the banners. Huge. With the words “Beary Best Holiday Party Ever” painted across them in sparkling, glittery letters.
    Cueball—proving that it was more than his smoking-hot looks that made him one of Kansas City’s most talented and desired DJs—played music and turned the place into total magic. As it turned out, he and Paddy went to high school together. Yes, they’d fooled around a couple times—when they were fourteen. Ron had not a reason in the world to be jealous.
    Plus, he really was tired of the whole jealousy thing.
    Everywhere Ron looked, he saw men having a wonderful time.
    Men danced.
    Men ate—of course they did; most of them were bears.
    And over and over again men came up to him— him !—and told him what a fantastic time they were having.
    Even Mel Gunter.
    “You did good, kid. Fuck tradition. You shook things up. And that’s good.”
    They had to stop things at three in the morning, and thank God the owner of the cave had a liquor license that allowed them to go that late. But even then, with the booze put away, men still lingered on. They just didn’t want to go home.
    Finally they did.
    But only after making Ron and the board promise to do it again next year.
    It really was the beary best holiday party ever.
     
     
    T HAT NIGHT Ron spent the night at Paddy’s. It was a bigger place and a lot more modern than Ron’s apartment. But Paddy worked in finance. He could afford it. “Boring,” he often said. “But it pays well.”
    To Billy’s disgruntlement, Ron was spending more and more nights there.
    “I’m sorry, Billy.”
    “ No hay problema ,” he’d said. “I just want to know how you could go from hating a guy to loving him so much!”
    That’s when Ron told him the story.
    Billy nodded, his eyes filled with mirth. “Ah. Now I get it. And it’s sort of sweet. Even with the whole misunderstanding thing. I hope you’ve learned something, young padawan.”
    He had. In fact, every day was new lessons with Paddy.
    Case in point: Paddy