Latin Night

Author: • March 12, 2018 • Short Stories

“This is Luis, and that is his friend… I’m sorry what was it? Oh Mario!”

We shook hands. Luis beamed a smile at both of us. I thought he was afro cuban, dark skinned. Darker than me. Bobby Lee was attached to him by the hip.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t you guys come to dance? You both look depressed!” Luis said.

“No thanks,” Jason said, in a voice that was fully dismissive, which in a twisted way pleased me, because he hadn’t talked to me that way.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” I said.

I left Jason pointedly behind me and rushed to the dance floor with Bobby Lee, Luis and Mario. I was surrounded by bodies dancing against strobing lights. I took off my beanie hat and tucked it into the back of my pants. Bobby Lee had Luis stuck to his hip, and their friend Mario put his crotch right to Bobby Lee’s butt, and they danced like that for most of the night. I backed away a little and lost myself in the crowd. I watched as the drag queen that talked to Jason got up on stage and introduced a gymnasts who spun around on two suspended silks, later a fire-spitting queen came out, and I looked back to try and find Bobby Lee. I spun around and caught Jason—who was still at the bar—just looking at me. I smiled at Jason, and he raised his glass, and smiled back. In that moment I felt like the rest of my life was in his raised glass.

Later that night, Bobby Lee tapped me on the shoulder, and asked me if I wanted to head out. I was surprised at the timing since it was an early night, but I figured Bobby Lee had bagged two boys and was in a hurry to get them both back to his place. Had it been a grungier night, or a different scene, I may have stayed to troll around some, but I had so many conflicting thoughts that I thought it was best if I went home too. We found Jason still at the bar and headed back to the subway.

Jason and I stood on one side of the train watching Bobby Lee talk to Mario and Luis, and it was obvious to me at least that Bobby Lee was into Luis—the one with a personality—and was simply stringing Mario along with him, as was his right I supposed. Jason was seething at Bobby Lee, and I was mostly dumbstruck at his luck. I noticed a foil wrapper sticking out of Bobby Lee’s front pocket and pointed at it, determined to embarrass him:

“What’s that?” I said.

“What’s what?” Bobby Lee replied.

“That? Is that what I think it is? Is that a packet of lube?”

About the Author

Cecile's Writer: K. JoffréAuthor: K. Joffré

Country of residence: United States of America

Nationality: Guatemalan-American

Mother tongue: Spanish

Joffréis the child of immigrants from Guatemala who moved to Los Angeles, California looking for a better life. He received a bilingual education before the passage of Proposition 227 banned the practice in the state. He is a contributor to Slate with fiction in ContemporaryQueer.com. Slide into his DMs @meanhood on twitter.


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One Response to Latin Night

  1. […] and On Conspicuous Families. Early last year I wrote short stories for fiftywordstories, and Cecile’s Writers. I placed a story in Opossum Literature’s Fall 2018 issue. During the last half of the year I […]