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She helped him take her T-shirt off, and she was beautifully bare underneath. “I’m having an amazing time.”
“Good. Now get your ass to the bedroom, and I’ll make it even better.”
PART TWO
A NIGHT AT THE CLUB 2
CHAPTER 6
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Vandy exclaimed Friday night, her last full day in Cleveland. Tomorrow she’d share a lunch at the hospital with her parents, say good-bye to Royce, and hop on the late flight to Chicago.
“Don’t think, just do,” Royce encouraged her and took her hand.
Vandy stepped onto the stage clad in her bra and a tight new mini skirt. Wolf whistles greeted them from the crowd.
“Here’s Royce and Mandy singing Light My Candle from Rent,” the Emcee announced.
For her final adventure, he had taken her to karaoke, musical theater style, at Cleveland’s Cherries Lesbian Bar. The rules were simple, you could sing from any musical you wanted but you had to be in character. And she had somehow agreed to be the stripper Mimi singing to the doomed musician Roger.
It was humiliating, embarrassing, and quite a fucking adventure.
The song called for them to sing to each other as they pretended to resist their attraction. Or so Royce said since musical theater was low on her list of movies to watch.
She was supposed to be the seductress, but Royce was seducing her again. The spotlight’s glanced off his tattoos, each word familiar, as was the texture of his skin.
Then his eyes flashed when he sang a line about a girl he used to know. She wondered who he was thinking about then.
Fiancée or her. She hoped it was her.
So she changed the words a little at the end, wishing this wouldn’t end. The plan called for her to dance away, but she kept getting closer. “They call me Vandy.”
“Kiss her!” the front row of lesbians called.
Royce didn’t hesitate to obey. And the kiss was crazy good.
They climbed down and ended up sitting at a table next to a Black guy and a blonde, a rare straight couple in the bar.
“Good work,” the woman said. “Your pitch wasn’t that bad.”
“I can only imagine how terrible music class has to be for you,” the man laughed. “I’m Michael, and this is Angela. She’s a teacher, just move here to Cleveland.”
“Hey, I’m Vandy, and that is a great dress,” Vandy said. Angela didn’t look much older than her, and she was wearing a short number that emphasized her boobs. Vandy prepared to be jealous, but Royce hardly glanced at Angela.
Angela, the schoolteacher, smiled, “Half of your dress forgot to be here. But you stayed in character.”
“Extra points for staying in character,” Michael said, and, like Royce, he only had eyes for his date.
“I’m Royce, not Roger. What are you singing?”
“Nothing. Didn’t come here for the music.” Michael said. He and Royce shared some type of mysterious masculine communication that she didn’t quite get. “And here’s our food.”
“I feel like I need to use the little boy’s room. Then you need to powder your nose.” Royce excused them and walked to the back of the club.
As if powder fit in her tiny micro purse. It had just enough space for her phone, some cash, and her ID.
The bathrooms were neither male nor female. They were just bathrooms.
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?” Vandy whispered.
