* * *
It’s a short jaunt to our next destination, and soon enough I’m pulling over on a quiet side street just off the main downtown drag.
“Here we are,” Eddie announces. “Didn’t think we’d end up clubbing tonight, did you?”
The second I open my door I hear thundering music from all the way down the block, a meaty electronic kick drum rumbling through the surrounding businesses and finally arriving at my ears as a muffled pulse. All the gift shops and cafés are closed, but on the distant corner a single source of movement and energy draws my attention.
This is Club Flamingo, a Palm Springs staple and one of the most popular gay bars on this side of town.
I’ve spent more than my share of late nights within those glorious walls. The building exudes a specific kind of youthful, celebratory queerness, dripping with rainbow flags and vibrating to the tune of every season’s fresh pop hits.
More than anything, I recognize this is a great place to generate content. Ladies’ night at Club Flamingo is legendary, especially when it comes to stoking FOMO in your audience.
“Follow close and don’t draw extra attention to yourself,” Eddie says, strolling confidently ahead as I trail behind.
“That’s not gonna be easy,” I reply. “I make content here. People recognize me.”
Eddie glances back over his shoulder, an amused smirk radiating across his face.
“What?” I press.
Eddie chuckles. “Are you some kind of …influencer?” He rolls out the last word with a hearty portion of disdain.
“So what if I am? I’ve got two hundred and sixteen thousand followers.”
Eddie just shakes his head. “Your generation is doomed.”
“Mygeneration? You were in the closet for longer than I’ve been alive, old man.”
Eddie halts and turns to face me on the darkened sidewalk. “Now is not the time to get into this, but since we’re talking about it, we might as welltalkabout it.”
“Talk aboutwhat?” I snap.
Eddie places two fingers against each temple, as thoughhe’s bracing for the world’s most ferocious migraine. “Allthis,” he announces, removing his fingers and waving them before me in a loose, wandering circle. “It’s allnothing. You say you’re an influencer, but what do you actuallydo?”
“Fashion,” I retort.
“Fashion?!” he shrieks. “Is that what you call it?”
He motions toward my inconspicuous hoodie and jeans, a perfectly bland outfit meant to avoid unwanted attention on this very important evening.
“I’m dressed for work,” I counter. “Theotherwork.”
“Right,” Eddie scoffs. “Well, let’s try that again. I know you answered truthfully the first time, because I made you, but I don’t think you really thought about it. Dig deep here, sport. I know everyone in your generation wants to be an influencer, but what is it that youactually do?”
I can feel the truth bubbling out of me whether I want it to or not, the words searing my throat as they crawl from my lips. “I’m a grave robber.”
Eddie nods, oddly satisfied by this announcement. “Exactly,” he says. “Well, guess what? I’m gonna help you with that. I’m gonna give you everything you ever dreamed ofand then some. You’ll be famous, not just for some bullshit social media page, but really, truly famous. All you have to do is stick with me and get through the evening. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Like … a deal with the devil?” I ask.
Eddie cocks his head to the side, momentarily confused, then straightens himself out. “Oh,” he blurts. “No. Not that.”
“So … what is it then?” I press.
“I’m gonna make you a star—an actress, maybe? A singer? The world is your oyster,” Eddie replies, blunt and direct. “No matter what happens tonight, I promise you this: we’re gonna get there together. You wanna know why?”
“Why?”
