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“So, uh, if you’re here from the canceled and refunded show I ran out on, thanks for that,”
Richie held up the mic, staring into the crowd, ignoring the nauseous turn of his stomach. “Kind of had to go deal with something, so thanks for your patience, folks,” he grinned. “If you’re here to see what happened to the has-been comedian who ran away, I guess I should thank you for that, too.”
A chuckle scattered through the crowd, and he lifted his head a little.
He could do this.
“And when I say I had to go deal with something, I mean I had to go back to my hometown,” Richie looked down, adjusting the cord of the microphone with a quick tug and a flick. “Jesus, you’d think they’d learn by now to always give me one that wasn’t wired – I mean, seriously, does no one remember the time I nearly died by falling off stage? Damn thing wrapped around my ankles – Anyway, I had to go back to my hometown.” He looked up again, still smiling. “Haunted by a clown, had to go beat him to death.”
More laughter, some confused looks in the front row.
“Listen, fucker deserved it, okay? He’d been threatening us for twenty-seven years. What would you do if a clown stalked and threatened you for almost thirty years? You’d probably find a way to end his life, too!”
People laughed a bit more at that, probably deciding it was a bit. He could work with that.
“So yeah, I got a call before my last show and thought I could make it through, but we all know how that went,” Richie mimed vomiting, grimacing for the show of it all. “I mean, oof. That was rough. You all probably heard it, too, if you were there – That place had echoes that could tell you how the weather was fifty miles away, you definitely heard me puking in the wings.” He adjusted his grip on the microphone, shaking his head. “I will say, that’s not the worst some of you have heard from me. Given that some of my shows are eighteen and up only, that’s absolutely not the worst you’ve heard from me.”
He giggled when he heard a couple of people cheering from different points in the room.
“Yeah, there they are – What the fuck are you doing here, then, if that’s something you enjoy?” Richie called out to them. “Not the point, right, right. The running away thing. I got a phone call from an old friend of mine and he reminded me of something and that something was a clown. I hate clowns. Always have, always will – Even before the one that stalked us! Weird, right?” He gestured at himself, quickly and without hesitation, snorting as he put his body on display. “I mean, dumbass comedian, clown, not that different!”
Taking a deep breath, Richie nodded. “But I got the call, and I had to go back home to deal with things and I met the love of my life.”
A supportive cheer went through the crowd and Richie nodded. “Right? I mean, he’d been the love of my life before, back when I was a dumbass kid, but I forgot about him until I saw him again. Do you ever do that? You forget how great something is until you see it again? Yeah, that was – What?” He held the mic out to the girl who’d stood up in the front row, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. She’d said something.
“He?” she spoke into the mic.
“Oh, yeah,” Richie laughed. “Shit, right. By the way, this is also my coming out show.” He pulled a handful of confetti out of his pocket and threw it in the air. “Hey everyone! Richie Tozier is a flaming homo. Been gay for my entire life, just haven’t said anything until now.”
Laughter followed that and the girl got yanked back into her seat by her friends.
“No, see, that part wasn’t a joke,” Richie shrugged, grinning again. “I was saving the confetti for later, but I guess now works. My manager might be a little pissed off at me for that one – I didn’t tell him I was going to come out today.” With another shrug, Richie marched back across the stage, away from the edge. “While I was away, I saw the love of my life again and he reminded me I was very much gay, thanks, and the thoughts that have been chasing me my entire life caught up to me.” He put a hand around the mic, dropping his voice into a whisper. “Gay, gay, homosexual – I fought those thoughts for a long damn time, you all heard my shows before.”
Richie cackled when a giant cheer erupted, waiting until it died down before he spoke again. “I got married while I was away, too.”
More laughter, more cheering.
“See, now I’m starting to think I’m not actually funny and that you guys are just laughing at me for being pathetic – That wasn’t a joke either!” He held up his left hand, waggling his fingers so the stage lights caught the glint of his ring. “See this? Richie Tozier is officially a taken man. Sorry, ladies.” He dropped the mic a little, then raised it back up. “Sorry, gentlemen,” he said with a deep chuckle and a bounce of his eyebrows. “I mean, finding out I’m into you and then having it ripped away in seconds, that’s got to suck.”
With another grin, Richie watched the reactions in the crowd, snickering when he saw a couple of guys blushing.
“In all seriousness, I did get married last month!” He held up his hand again, turning his head to stage right. “Babe, come on out, I’m being bullied!”
“You are not being bullied,” Eddie’s voice called out. “You’re being an asshole!”
“See?” Richie put a hand to his chest. “True love.”
The crowd went silent.
“Babe, I don’t think they believe you’re real,” Richie turned again, whining. “Come on, show them you exist so I don’t get written about as a weirdo who makes up a husband for a bit.”
His heart leapt in his chest when Eddie stepped onto the stage with him, still supported by his crutches. Myra and him had gotten a quick annulment, had never consummated, and thus had no fulfilling marriage according to law. Once he had come back from Derry, barely alive but hanging in there, Eddie had healed enough to make several phone calls.
Now, Eddie stood up with his crutches for support, flipping him off in front of everyone. “There he is, folks!” Richie gestured at him, still grinning. “The absolute love of my life! He’s a dick, but that’s just how you know he and I are meant to be,” he made a kissy face at Eddie, watching the way his husband’s cheeks burned a bright red. Walking over to him, Richie leaned in for a kiss, expecting to be pushed away – Eddie had never been comfortable with all eyes on him, not even among their friends. What he got instead was Eddie tucking one crutch against his body and grabbing a fistful of Richie’s collar, dragging him closer until he could slide their mouths together.
Richie let the mic slide down until the cord was all that kept it dangling off the floor, suspending from his elbow.
Faintly, he was aware of the cheers from the audience, screaming laughter and roaring applause, but all he could focus on was Eddie. Eddie, alive and warm, his body heat pressed against Richie. His lips on Richie’s, soft and focused on what he was doing. “Holy shit, Eds,” Richie whispered when they pulled apart.
“Now get back to work,” Eddie grinned, reaching up to adjust Richie’s glasses. “I have work to do, too.”
Richie watched as Eddie moved back to the table he was using as a desk off-stage, filling out paperwork for his own job. It took a minute, people still cheering and applauding, but Richie cleared his throat and fished the microphone back up from its near-floor experience. “That’s, uh, that’s probably why I’m wired up today,” Richie admitted once he had the mic in his hands again. “They knew my husband would be here and I’d be too distracted to set it down properly.”
Grinning again, Richie looked at the crowd. “So, yeah, that was my husband. I’ve been in love with him since I was a stupid little twelve-year-old twerp and could first understand what that meant and he’s the love of my life. I forgot how much of me he held onto until I saw him again.” He held up his left hand once more. “And then I had to rush to put a ring on it.”
More cheers, more laughter.
Richie joined in.
Things were going to be okay.