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CHAPTER TWO

TONI

I see her as soon as she walks in the door, which is saying something with the crush of queer people crammed into the bar. She looks like a CEO on casual Friday—dark skinny jeans, Chelsea boots, a black blazer and a sky-blue silk shirt underneath. Tasteful jewelry. Hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

I’m immediately turned on.

She catches my eye and stops for a moment, before continuing through the crowd, her gaze never leaving mine.

I don’t know her name—it starts with an A, I think—but I’ve seen her here at the Dew Drop Inn a few times with her girlfriend, Shae (with an e). Whenever she isn’t here Shae makes at least one trip to the bathroom with whatever woman in the bar has a passing resemblance to the CEO, if she didn’t bring the doppelgänger with her.

“Audrey’s finally had enough, I see,” Max says in her bored-with-the-world deadpan voice.

“Who?” I ask.

Max scoffs. “The woman you’re tractor-beaming toward you with your fuck-me eyes.”

“I’m not looking at her like that.”

“Sure.”

Audrey. It suits her perfectly. How could I have forgotten it?

And suddenly, Audrey pops out at the front of the stage, which is a one-step platform crammed in the corner. She’s a little breathless. She lifts her chin to meet my gaze.

Of course I know she’s pretty—I might have stared at her more than a few times when I’m in town and DJ karaoke nights at Dewey’s—but I’ve never been this close to her. Her skin is pale and flawless, though her cheeks are flushed from the heat of so many bodies packed into a tiny space. Her makeup is subtle, her lips a glossy dark pink. Dark eyebrows contrast with her blond hair. Audrey had always been the quiet one at the table, laughing at her girlfriend’s jokes, blushing on more than a few occasions each night, grimacing when Shae got too tight, never giving in to her entreaties to sing on karaoke night. The Audrey standing in front of me though isn’t reserved, but fierce and determined. There’s fear in her expression, too. My gut clenches and a strange feeling of protectiveness comes over me.

She inhales deeply, as if mustering the courage to get on the stage, or maybe to speak at all.

“Can I go first?” she asks. Her voice is smooth as warm honey.

You can do anything you want, I think, but thankfully don’t say. In fact, I don’t say anything. I’ve apparently lost the ability to speak.

“Sure,” Max says.

Audrey smiles at Max. A stab of jealousy wakes me up.

“What song do you want?” I ask.

One side of Audrey’s mouth quirks up, and she looks mischievous. My stomach does a little tango.

She steps up onto the stage next to me, leans close, and purrs into my ear, “The greatest break-up song of all time, Toni D.”

Oh good lord in heaven. This woman is going to kill me.

I grin and put one headphone next to my ear. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Her grin is full and wicked.

Audrey steps on the stage and I catch a whiff of her perfume, clean with the subtlest hint of spice. She faces the back of the stage, takes off her jacket, and drapes it over a stool, revealing a silk tank and long arms with creamy skin. She releases her honey blond hair from her ponytail, runs her hands through it to give it volume. My heartbeat is racing like a thoroughbred’s. This isn’t some half-drunk lesbian blowing off steam with a bad rendition of “I Will Survive.” This woman means business.

And I am more turned on by the second.

Max nudges me, and nods toward the crowd. “Shae with an E, two o’clock.”

Audrey’s girlfriend is hot, no doubt about it. Shae is androgynous, tall and thin, with olive skin and perfectly coiffed short dark hair. Audrey and Shae make a striking couple: two stylish, professional lesbians that ooze money. I never bothered to learn too much about Audrey because she is so obviously not my type, not to mention out of my league. I’ve noticed her watching me from time to time, but I chalked it up to her being fascinated by a dirtbag like me. Fascinated like I’m a bug under a microscope, that is.

Shae hasn’t seen Audrey, yet. Neither has the woman draped over Shae’s shoulder.