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“One beer and one water coming right up,” Rogue quips and goes to retrieve the drinks. When he returns, he sets them in front of us. “Enjoy.”
She picks up her bottled water and gulps down half before asking, “What do I owe ya?”
“Nothing,” Rogue tells her. “It’s on the house.”
She vehemently shakes her head. “No, no. I pay my way. How much d—”
“I got it.” I grab my wallet out of my back pocket, pull out a twenty, and toss it on the bar. “Why don’t we go see if we can find a table?”
Apple turns around and scans the room then smirks at me. “Good luck with that. Place is packed.”
I glance toward the back corner where the table reserved for the club sits and see Possum, Frenzy, Heather, Lock, Asher and… Mark.
Yeah, that’s not happening.
“You hungry?” I ask, and she nods.
I rest my hand on the small of her back and urge her toward the kitchen. Surprisingly, she doesn’t put up any resistance.
Purgatory is known more for its atmosphere than its food, but we still offer a few menu items suitable for bar eating. And Raul makes a mean plate of nachos, and they’re calling my name almost as loudly as Apple’s body is.
“Malice, my man, long time no see,” Raul greets when we step through the doors.
“Hey, RaRa,” I say, using the stage name he insists upon even when he’s not performing.
Raul smiles, and his perfect teeth seem to gleam in the bright light of the kitchen. He’s sporting his usual tight leather pants, but tonight he’s paired them with a bright pink tank with the words ‘Save the Tatas’ emblazoned in white across the chest. He’s also staring at Apple with a glint in his eye, but it doesn’t bother me one bit because he’s gay as hell and not the least bit interested in her sexually.
“Well, well, well,” he drawls. “Who’s the vixen, Malice?” His eyes drop to her chest for a moment, and he waggles his brows. “Love the outfit, honey.”
Apple stiffens, and I stifle a laugh. “RaRa, leave her alone,” I say. “She’s not used to your brand of… flirting.”
“Flirting?” Apple repeats and steps away from me. “Flirting? What is it with men and their unapologetic need to treat women like we’re objects and not actual people?”
“Apple, calm down,” I urge. “He didn—”
“Calm down?” She throws her hands up. “Why is that the automatic go-to when a woman speaks her mind? Calm down,” she mutters with a shake of her head. “Calm fucking down. No, I don’t think so. I will not calm down.” Apple points toward the main room. “First, that man out there threw dollar bills at me like I’m a meal for some two-pump chump, and now this? Nope. I’m outta here.”
She starts toward the swinging doors, but Raul rushes to block her path. How he’s able to do that in heels, I don’t know, but props to him. I’d break my fucking neck.
“Honey, honey, honey,” he says as he rests his hands on her arms. “I didn’t mean no disrespect. If anything, I’m hoping I can borrow that outfit for my next show.”
“Show?”
“Yeah.” He grins and raises a hand in the air as he rests his opposite hand on his hip in a pose that’s won him the majority of his trophies. “I’m the reigning champ at all the local drag queen competitions. Rupaul has nothing on me, honey.”
“Drag queen?”
“Yep.”
“So…” Her forehead wrinkles. “You weren’t just flirting?”
Raul relaxes his stance and smiles. “As stunning as you are, no, honey, I wasn’t flirting. You don’t have the right… equipment.”
Apple’s entire body deflates, and she trills out a nervous laugh. “Oh. Well… Shit, I’m sorry.”
“No harm done,” he tells her, and then he hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “That lug back there doesn’t always think before he speaks. He doesn’t realize that others might not pick up on the not-so-subtle clues that I’m gay.”
Apple leans around Raul and glares at me. “That’s a little judgmental, don’t ya think?”
