Page 47

Amos

“Fuck,”

Ford said, causing me to look in the direction he was turned.

“That asshole is over there showing off. Look at that bitch on his arm. How old is he, fifteen?”

I asked, letting my inner bitch out.

Ford had been sulking next to me ever since Dorian had walked in with the twink on his arm. Of course, if Ford paid a little attention he’d see that the twink was looking at every man in the room except Dorian. They may be together, but they were certainly not… together.

If I were to guess, the twink would be in the bar’s bathroom within the hour getting his ass pounded by some random stranger.

It was karaoke night, and I’d been here before when all the Broadway singers had taken over the stage, singing their hearts out. No regular person would dare sing karaoke at this bar… not with all the talent swirling around us.

“So, want me to go kill him?”

I asked Ford and got a laugh out of him. Dorian looked our way, and his eyes squinted ever so slightly, showing just how much he was struggling with Ford pretending to be on my arm.

Before Ford could respond, Dorian stormed up on stage, took the microphone from the guy who was running the karaoke machine and said, “You Oughta Know”

to the guy.

The man looked at the playlist and at the fifty or so people in front of him, then shrugged before putting the song on. Dorian could sing, like really sing, and no one outsang him, maybe not even Alanis Morrissette.

As Dorian began, Ford basically froze next to me. The anguish coming from him caused my stomach to churn. I wish Ford could’ve gone up and blasted him with an equally good hate song, but the poor guy couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. I didn’t hesitate; I rushed over to the karaoke guy and said, “Play ‘Don’t Lose Your Head’.”

He started to say something, and I shook my head. “Listen. I’m going to sing that song a cappella or with music. I recommend you do it with music ’cause I don’t sound good without it.”

I saw his expression change and wanted to laugh ’cause, for real, with all the divas he dealt with on karaoke nights, I was sure this wasn’t uncommon.

I’d heard this performed on stage here a couple years ago when I’d first met Ford. I’d loved the song and used it in my own drag performances, so I knew the music, and it was so full of attitude, I knew it’d get the effect I was hoping for.

Dorian gave Ford a pointed look as he walked off the stage, and the timing between songs couldn’t have been more perfect as the next song began and I marched out on stage. Not in drag, but performing as myself.

I used the first few verses to garner attention from the crowd and before I knew it, a couple women had jumped on stage and were singing the background parts for me. Perfect… I thought, then began strutting my stuff.

When I got to the main part, I changed the lyrics to “don’t lose your man.”

Even though this was about King Henry’s wives, I wanted to make a point… It seemed to have landed, because when I looked Dorian in the eye as I sang to tell him that I hadn’t meant to hurt him, I saw his expression change.

I continued to perform as I saw him walk over toward Ford. I smiled to myself, knowing my game had worked. They’d be back together before the night was over. I continued singing, letting myself lose control now, turning and twerking as the music moved into its regular beat.

Of course, the crowd screamed. Damn, I’d missed performing. I looked around the audience and knew they had no idea I could sing or perform. To them I was some overly built football player. Tonight, they got to see my moves.

Before I left the stage, I looked at Dorian and Ford and said to Ford, “You better take that shit to his place ’cause I’m not listening to you two all night.”

Ford blushed and looked down. Dorian leaned back and gave a full-hearted laugh. My work here was done.

I was clapped on the back several times as I went toward the bar and got myself a drink. I saw Ford and Dorian slip out the front door a few moments later. “Hey, you’re really talented,”

someone said from behind me.

“Oh,”

I said, turning back toward an older man who didn’t look like he belonged in a bar full of young Broadway stars singing their lungs out just for the hell of it. “It’s all in good fun.”

“Maybe, but you know, you could take it to the next level… if you wanted to.”

I laughed. “Dude, look around, there’s more talent in here than I’ll ever posses. This is the next level,”

I said and waved my hand around the room, then slammed my shot.

He looked at me funny, then smiled. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

I shook my head. “No, should I? Wait, do I owe you money?”

The guy chuckled. “Funny too… Yep, you’re perfect. Meet me tomorrow at this address.”

“Wait? Why?”

I asked, confused.

“Oh, that’s where we’re holding auditions… we’re auditioning songs from Kinky Boots, and, baby, you’re made for Lola.”

What the fuck? “Um, sir… I’m a football player. I’m not a Broadway star…”

He laughed. “Son, you’re a drag queen who has been outed recently. Your career is in limbo. Trust me. This is Providence. Lola…”

he said and pointed at the card. “Come try out.”

I knew Lola well… like really well. I fell in love with the musical when it’d first come out, and I dreamed of playing the part. But, shit… I wasn’t Broadway level. I’m just a football player who likes to play around in drag.

I tucked the card with the name of the guy, Anton Wagner, in my pocket, though, and kept patting it as the night wore on. I ended up getting so anxious I took a cab back to Ford’s place and went to bed earlier than I normally would. For fuck’s sake, could this really be happening? Me, of all people, auditioning for Lola? And how the fuck had that guy known all he had about me?

Then I remembered all the recent press about me. One quick Google search on his phone would tell him all he needed to know.

I called out for Ford’s Alexa to play Lola in Kinky Boots, and she complied. I pulled the lyrics up on my phone and began practicing the songs. I’d never get the part, but shit, one day I’d tell my kids that I’d auditioned for it.

That made me think of Tommy… Did he want kids? Shit… forget that… Learn Lola’s songs so I can perform the shit out of them. That’s what I needed to do.

By the time the sun broke over the horizon, I’d learned the songs well enough that I could sing them. Thank God for my ability to remember lyrics. Thank God, Ford had stayed at Dorian’s so I could. The only song I struggled with was “Not My Father’s Son.”

Too many unresolved issues there.

I left with more than enough time to get to the audition, but I was starving by the time I got to the address, so I grabbed a coffee and a couple bagels at a place on the corner.

By the time I finished eating, I saw people going into the theater. “Guess this is it…”

I said. I thought about texting someone to tell them what I was up to but… Tommy had made it clear he wasn’t there for me right now. Owen? Josiah? No, it didn’t feel right. This was stupid. I was just doing it for fun.

I was a football player. So why was I more nervous now than I had been at any tryout I’d ever done in my football career? A question for another time. I drank the rest of my coffee, rushed to the restroom ’cause I didn’t want to have to find one over there, then headed over.

Shit! This was happening.

“Everybody Say Yeah”

was the first song they wanted me to sing. The other guys knew the choreography. Fuck, this is not going to work… I started to panic, but then I thought about how much I loved to perform. Fuck it, I can learn choreography. I can either perform or not.

So, when it was my turn, I did my own thing as I sang the song along with the other singers. I could tell I hadn’t impressed anyone with my performance, but I just laughed. I hadn’t come to them looking for a job— they’d come to me.

“Sex Is in the Heel”

was next, and by this point, I was just having a fun time. I thanked God I’d had plenty of practice in heels ’cause these damned heels they gave us were intense. Unlike the first time I performed, I knew how to work a pair of stilts so hot it made hell jealous.

Instead of trying to follow the choreography I didn’t know, I just let it all happen and had a fucking great time. I was no longer even worried about getting the part.

We ended with “Raise You Up.”

I had so fucking much fun. I saw the guy from last night for the first time then, and he was smiling. I winked at him from where I was, causing him to smile even brighter.

I owed him for letting me come do this. The other divas around me were not impressed with me, and I knew there would be some shade thrown my way before all was said and done. Nothing I hadn’t dealt with before, bitches.

When the song ended, I went backstage and changed into my regular clothes, not that we had much of a wardrobe. They were just checking to see if we could walk in heels, I assumed.

I was getting ready to leave when I was stopped. “Um, we’re not done,”

the woman said. “They want you to sing ‘Not My Father’s Son’.”

Shit, this is where the fun ended. I thought about just leaving and sparing myself the tears that wanted to fall every time I sang that song. Oh well, that demon himself had instilled one thing in me I would never lose, and it was to never quit before the game was finished.

I stood on stage, and as the music started, I felt the lump form in my throat. I forced it down, but not enough that I was able to hide my emotions. I sang the song but didn’t get far before sadness overtook me.

Tears leaked down my cheeks as I sang. Thankfully, I’d figured out how to sing through emotions long ago. Mostly this was singing through nerves, letting the feelings flow out of my eyes, not my mouth.

When I got to the emotional part of the song, my voice cracked. Apparently, not breaking down was too much to hope for. Had I been in drag, this would’ve seriously killed my makeup. So small miracles for that.

By the time I finished singing, the theater was quiet. I smiled and thanked them, grabbed my stuff, and left. This had been fun, an adventure I hadn’t counted on, but it was time to walk away.

I wasn’t allowed to live out loud… If I lived out loud, I’d have Tommy, and I’d play football without fear of being fired for who and what I was. I’d be able to visit my parents without my dad making my life a fucking hell while I was there.

I decided it was time to go home. Yeah, the media circus would be swarming my condo. I expected them to. But I was ready to face my life. I texted Erissa to let her know I was going home.

Me: Let’s turn up the heat. I’m ready to fight.

She just texted back a smiley face. So it was definitely time to make some choices once and for all.