***
It turned out Mason and I were equally desperate in the end, albeit for different reasons. The idea took off instantly after they convinced me it was merely a 'social experiment'. I accepted not just out of desperation, but perhaps out of boredom, too. We decided to try it at least once to see if it would actually work.
Using face masks and high-necked shirts to cover the Adam's apple I lacked, we prepared to visit the pub Mason had shown us. We spent the following week planning my persona, practising my 'manly' voice until it was perfect. Since it was the end of the semester, we had plenty of free time, and it became a hilarious excuse to meet up.
It was lucky that I already had a naturally low tone, so it wasn't a huge struggle to sound masculine. Mason had mistaken me for a boy when we first met without me even trying, so we knew idiots like him would take the bait. However, we couldn't assume everyone lacked as many neurons as my best friend. We had to be thorough. Mason suggested I could even claim to be a 'femboy' if things got tricky, so I trusted his expertise and prepared to act the part.
Nothing could have prepared us for how extraordinarily successful our first attempt would be. That night, I scored six free cocktails all by myself. I even got a seventh thanks to a guy flirting with Mason, who was kind enough to buy his target's 'friend' a drink as well.
The first impression was brilliant, so we kept doing it until it became a staple of our weekend plans. Occasionally, a bothersome guy would approach us, but the people around us were mostly respectful and would help us out of any awkward spots. Luckily, we never ran into serious trouble, unlike some of the drama we witnessed while pulling off our tiny, innocent scam.
I soon learned that the bar was the prime spot. Being near the staff and bartenders provided a safety net if anyone got too pushy, and it made it easier for guys to approach us. We also discovered that exclusively male gay clubs worked best. Since I'm occasionally approached by girls in the real world, the risk of being found out was much higher if a woman started flirting with me. Therefore, we stuck to the places open only to men. Gay men.
Mason was truly happy with this arrangement as well. Having someone he trusted to accompany him to those specific pubs made him feel significantly less anxious. Although I did tease him about already knowing he was gay, there was one particular evening when we were on our own that we finally had a serious, heart-to-heart talk about it.
"Thank you for never saying anything, even though you already knew," he said at the time. He was acting awfully shy, his fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "And for agreeing to do this with me."
"I could tell you were that way inclined, but I wouldn't go around joking about it when it was obvious you hadn't sorted it out enough to say it yourself." I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light despite the weight of the moment. "As much as I seem not to care, things like this can't be taken so lightly. Besides—"
"What?"
"Well, you're the first real friend I ever made. You and Sophie. Why would I do something that I knew could trouble you? That wouldn't be nice."
He burst into tears right after that. I honestly didn't understand why, since I felt it was just the bare minimum and I was simply being honest. I felt a wave of cringe wash over me; I'm not exactly used to telling him how much I care about him, but it still felt like the right thing to do. I like being able to support my friend, even if I don't fully understand every nuance of his experience.
If I'm honest, when he first admitted he had been going to gay pubs and bars on his own, I felt a sharp pang of worry. He's far too naive—enough to think nobody suspected his sexuality—so I had to step in.
"I agreed because going together will be safer. We can protect each other if anything happens, and we can enjoy ourselves in our own way too," I told him after he calmed down.
Naturally, he broke into tears again. It turned out he had been terrified to continue going on his own, but he just hadn't told us out of sheer embarrassment. As outgoing as we are when it's just us, we would usually be seen by others as "good kids." Behaviour-wise, we actually are. This kind of nightlife scene was genuinely scary for us at the start.
Even so, we grew to love this routine. Today, more than a year has passed since we started this innocent play.
Perhaps it's not entirely innocent, since I do it for the lure of free alcohol. But we didn't have bad intentions, and I'm not hurting anyone. I'm always upfront about not wanting anything "spicy" after my drink is finished.
Either way, today we came to a coffee shop to hang out, the three of us together like any other day. It was supposed to be a relaxed, carefree afternoon. So, how come I'm suddenly having a full-blown anxiety attack just because of this one e-mail?
"What? What is it?" Mason asked, leaning in.
"You wanna go do number two? Maybe number three?" Sophie chimed in, her eyebrow arched.
"I might go, actually." I stared blankly at the condensation dripping down my frappe, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"Why? What happened?"
"Guys—I passed all the interviews. I start work on Monday," I announced to my friends. I timed it perfectly, just as both of them took large gulps of their drinks so they could choke on them and feel just as miserable as I did right now.
"Cough! You—cough!! You what?!"
"Heh. Cough! You b*tch. Ha. So you finally got a job," Sophie said sarcastically. She wiped a stray drop of coffee from her lip, her eyes gleaming. I've been unemployed for over a year, so she wasn't going to let me off easy. "Serves you right."
"Yeah. This sucks."
"You did say that company is like your dream job, though. Isn't it awesome that you managed to get in after avoiding it for so long? Good job," Mason said. He tried to make it sound like a grand accomplishment, even though he still had tears in his eyes from the coughing fit and it was clearly hard for him to talk.
It was indeed an accomplishment, but it still depends on the perspective you're taking.
"Yeah, it's awesome. But there is a downside to that dream. In reality, I do have to work there. Like, to really be a productive new asset. It's like once I sign the contract, I'll be signing my life sentence into true adulthood, you know?"
"Sigh. At least that means you'll get paid. Feel darn happy, you b*tch. I still have a year left of uni; I envy your troubles. Idiot."
"Right. Thanks, Sophie."
"You're welcome." Concentrating on her frappe again, she smirked.
"Cheer up, Layna. Sophie's right. You'll get paid, work where you dreamed of, and actually make use of your degree. Don't be stupid. Be happy."
"Urgh. Yeah, I know. I'm being stupid."
The two of them were clearly getting frustrated by my lazy character, but in the end, I knew I was being unreasonable. It's good I have them to point it out, since I acknowledge that I should be happy, but still...
"HAaAahH!" I melted over the table, my cheek pressed against the cool wood of the coffee shop booth. I continued to whine over nothing, feeling exhausted just thinking about what it meant to earn the money I so desperately needed. "I guess... no more free drinks, huh? If I get paid, I can't continue using gay gentlemen's invitations anymore."
"Huh? Why?" Sophie asked, genuinely surprised.
"Well, to start with, I do have some ethics and morals. Even if you doubt it."
"Oh, you have those, do you?" she teased, her voice taking on a playful, singsong lilt. "Just get rid of them and problem solved!"
"And also, Mason seems to be kicking it off with that one guy he met two weeks ago. I think it's just the right time for me to stop."