“Why are the police here?”
Theo doesn’t answer. He’s got a fist bunched in the back of her shirt, pushing her forward, but she digs her heels in.
The police have pushed their way into the club now. The officers at the front are grabbing patrons left and right, pulling handcuffs from their belts and patting people down. The performers on the stage, dressed mostly in skirts or dresses, are being yanked down to the floor. The bartender is arguing with the police at the door, blocking their way into the club.
Near the bar, Theo’s friend LeAnn pushes at an officer’s shoulder while he pats down someone that looks a lot like Theo did on Halloween. The officer shouts to a colleague, and quickly LeAnn is pushed face-first against the wall with her arms twisted behind her back. Her face bunches up in pain. When she turns itaway from Claire, her dark hair and stature bring someone else to mind.
Claire sees not LeAnn, but Jackie. Jackie with a black eye, a busted lip, and a maddeningly persistent refusal to explain how she was beaten up.
Even Claire is surprised at her own strength when she tears away from Theo, making a furious beeline in the opposite direction. All the rage and helplessness she felt that day seeing Jackie beaten up is propelling her forward at full speed until she barrels into the police officer shoulder-first, sending him flying over a barstool and into a group of three other cops who are struggling to cuff the bartender. They scatter like bowling pins.
The hit reverberates painfully up her shoulder, but it comes with a rush of adrenaline. It doesn’t make up for not being there to protect Jackie, but it feels good. It feels right to help LeAnn. She’s never thought to do anything to a police officer besides thank them, but right now she feels like she could take on every cop in the place.
LeAnn turns around, flexing her shoulders back into their right place, and when she sees Claire she breaks into a grin.
“Look at you. My hero!” LeAnn grabs Claire’s face, planting a firm kiss to her cheek. “Thanks, sweets. Let’s get outta here.”
Theo appears at Claire’s elbow. He’s more insistent now, and LeAnn follows them towards the back of the bar. There’s a door near the bathrooms that looks like a supply closet, but Theo rips it open to reveal a large storage room.
Claire spills into it with LeAnn on her tail. All around them are crates of alcohol and boxes of tiny straws, and there’s another door nearby that looks to lead to the back alley outside, but there’s a big padlock on it.
“Why are the police here?” Claire says again. Her heart is pounding—she can hear shouting from behind the closed door.
Theo doesn’t answer. He looks to be searching for something, peering into crates and moving things around.
LeAnn plants her back against the door. “Hey, help me hold this closed?”
Claire anchors her shoulder against the wood. Something slams into it on the other side, but the handle doesn’t turn. “Theo? Shouldn’t we –”
“Shut up for a second,” Theo says. He doesn’t sound angry, though—he sounds scared, for the first time since Claire has known him. Finally he reaches into a crate of tequila bottles, his hand rattling around while the noise behind the door gets louder, until he pulls out a tiny key. In a practiced flash he unlocks the padlock, and pulls Claire and LeAnn through the open door.
Immediately he’s off down the alley at a sprint, and Claire tries to match his pace in her too-big shoes. She can see red and blue flashing lights at the opposite end of the alley, behind them. A man’s voice shouts, but Theo grabs her elbow and pulls her hard to the left as soon as they reach the street. Claire bowls someone over, scraping her hands against the sidewalk, but LeAnn grabs her arm and pulls her to her feet again to keep running.
“How did you know where that key was?” Claire pants, once they’ve weaved a few streets over.
Theo slows his pace down to a jog. The back of his shirt is stained with sweat, despite the cool night air. “I used to hook up with one of the bouncers.”
“Why were the police there?”
“They raid the gay bars. Usually it’s not until the end of the month, when they come to collect their money,” Theo says darkly. “I thought we’d be safe tonight.”
“Their money?” Claire says. Theo is still jogging, and Claire finally slows to rip the loose shoes off her feet—hopefully thedouble socks will keep her soles relatively safe. “Shouldn’t we have stayed to help your other friends?”
“Normally I would. But I doubt you want to spend your first night of freedom in lockup,” Theo says. Once it’s clear that they aren’t being followed, he slows to a quick walk with Claire hopping to keep up.
“None of them are in drag tonight,” LeAnn says, her heels clicking frantically to keep up with the pace. “If they get caught up, they’ll be out by morning.”
Claire stumbles, one shoe on and the other off. She knows, of course, that homosexuality is a legal grey area. But she’s never seen so many people being so open about it and consequently punished. “Drag?”
“They arrest anyone wearing the wrong clothing. The queens and the butches, usually,” LeAnn says.
Butches. The word is just as foreign asdrag, but it settles somewhere in Claire that doesn’t feel unnatural. For now, she tucks it away.
The trolley ride home is less comfortable than the one they took to the bar. LeAnn leaves them after a few stops, headed back to her own place, but she gives Claire a grateful squeeze before she hops off the car.
Once they’re safely inside Theo’s apartment, sweaty and sore, Theo pulls out a chair for her at his tiny kitchen table. While she sits down, he opens a cupboard and produces a bottle of vodka.
“This is part of it,” Theo says heavily. “I didn’t mean for you to see it this early, but this isn’t an easy life, hon. We’re all deviants. You have to decide if being yourself is worth it.”
