Page 15

15

PATRICK

M ichael gives me my ticket and offers to stand in line for souvenirs while I get our seats. Who would say no to that offer? I rush down the stairs looking for our row, but I don’t see it. As I turn back around, an usher comes up to me with a tiny flashlight and asks to see my tickets.

“Oh, sir,” the usher says. “You can’t get to your seats from this level.” He points down to the next group of rows, just above the floor seats. “You’re three rows back from the floor.”

I turn to follow where exactly he’s pointing, and my breath catches in my chest. Lady Dame’s stage is shaped similar to a cock and balls, the base of the stage two large circles that extend out into the crowd. At the tip of the stage, it balloons out some, and a not-so-creative mind could envision an erect phallus—similar to her new album cover.

“The best way to get there is to go back up and circle around to section 180. The stairs will lead you all the way down front from there.” The usher hands me back the tickets and moves along to help someone else find their seats.

Following his instructions, I make my way to the right section and down to the next level. Once I find our seats I sit down and take in the view. These seats are even better than the floor. There’s no way Michael hasn’t spent a few hundred dollars on each ticket. The way the cock-shaped stage extends toward us, we’re right at eye level with the stage, no more than fifteen feet from it. We’re going to be able to see every last little stitch or glittering bead on her outfits when she comes walking our way.

I’m in heaven.

“Oh good, you found the seats,” Michael says as he comes over carrying souvenirs. He hands me a beer and a t-shirt with Lady Dames’ picture on it, glittery beads and rhinestones catch the overhead lights and flash.

“What do I owe you?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. My treat. I’m just glad I didn’t have to see the concert alone.”

“How’d you manage to get such great seats?”

“My credit card let me purchase them in advance before the general public.”

I scan the growing crowd. People are dressed in crazy outfits that could double for a comic book convention or Sci-Fi movie premier. There are people of all walks of life and every sexual orientation and age. It’s awesome to see and experience.

“Pretty amazing how there’s so much diversity in this auditorium right now,” Michael says and then takes a swig of his own beer.

I nod. “I was just thinking the same thing.” I feel so overcome by the whole spectacle I have to fight back tears. Leaning my head into his chest, I take in his warmth and positive energy.

He sighs and wraps his arm around my shoulders and we stay like that for a few minutes while I compose myself. Once I’m sure any possible wetness from my unexpected tears has dried, I straighten up in the chair. I can tell he’s looking at me, but I don’t want to look back at him, not yet.

The energy flowing between us is powerful and intoxicating. Closing my eyes for a moment, I envision leaping to my feet, straddling his lap, and kissing him so passionately I’d take his breath away. My heart pounds and I swallow hard. Turning to return his gaze, our eyes lock, and he smiles. The dimples in his cheeks deepen the wider he grins.

“Are you having a good time?” he asks.

I nod. “The best.”

Before we speak again, the lights dim and the crowd roars. The stage lights up with multicolored lights that flash and swirl outwardly into the audience.

“I thought there was going to be an opening act?” I yell to be heard over the crowd.

He shakes his head. “They cancelled. Lady Dame is going to play longer than planned to make up for it.”

“She is my queen,” I say.

Suddenly, the crowd erupts into borderline hysterics. I stand as everyone around me jumps to their feet. At the tip of the cock-shaped stage, no more than fifteen feet away, Lady Dame herself, blasts through a trap door and lands on her feet in front of us.

My vision tunnels, but I hold to consciousness with every last fiber of my being. I wouldn’t miss this concert for anything in the world. The music blares to life and the thousands of spectators begin dancing in place to her latest number one single, Popcorn and Candy.

Michael leans over and says into my ear, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

I throw my arms around him and squeeze before resuming my jumping to the beat of the song.

The concert lasts over two hours and I’ve been dancing so hard, I can barely make it up the stairs to exit the venue. Exhausted is an understatement.

“Let’s go get some midnight tacos somewhere,” Michael says. “I’m starving.”

Normally, I would have said no thank you because I’m so tired, but Michael is special. I feel it in my bones.

Not wanting to screw this up because I haven’t exercised in so long my legs are giving out, I give him a thumbs up. “I could eat.”

I hobble as fast as I can behind him until we get to the car. After getting inside, he asks, “Do you have a place you’d like to go?”

There isn’t any place I can think of, so I simply shrug. “You pick.”

He pulls out of the parking lot and avoids the traffic leaving the concert by turning left. I have no idea where he’s going, but he seems to, and that’s good enough for me. He puts on some soft music which soothes me to sleep even though I hadn’t planned on it.

I awake to him softly nudging me. “Patrick,” he says. “We’re here if you’re still up for it?”

“Of course,” I say. “Sorry about that. All the excitement of the evening got me drifting off to sleep.”

“No worries at all.” He jumps out of the car and hurries around to the passenger side and opens the door for me. He reaches for my hand and helps pull me up to stand.

That’s a first.

My belly flutters with nerves. We walk through the lot holding hands until we reach the entrance where he holds the door for me like a perfect gentleman.

“Thank you,” I say and go inside.

He follows close behind and tells the hostess it’s the two of us and asks if we can get a booth. We follow her through the mostly empty establishment and take a seat and begin looking through the menus.

“I’m not sure if you’ve been here before, but their guacamole is to die for,” Michael says.

“I think I’ll order the guac, chips, and salsa. Do they have queso?”

“Yes, it’s delicious.”

The waitress comes by and asks if we’re ready to order.

“Chips, guacamole, salsa, and queso dip, please,” I say.

“Should we share?” he asks.

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll share with him, but can you bring me a margarita.”

She scribbles it down on her pad. “Blended or on the rocks?”

“On the rocks, please,” he says. “What do you want, Patrick?”

“Mojito, please.”

“You got it,” she says and walks away.

A quiet settles over the table, but not in a bad way. Usually, when the conversation stops, I would look for the nearest exit and run away. Something about this feels different. Nice.

Our waitress brings the food and drinks, and we begin eating the chips in earnest. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” I say.

“Must have been all that dancing.” He plops a chip in his mouth and washes it down with a sip of his drink. “I like your moves.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I laugh. “For someone so tall, I didn’t expect you to have that much hip action.”

We both laugh now.

“I took ballet in high school. My mom thought it would be better for me than football, although my dad let me play my senior year.”

“Ballet, huh?” I wiggle my eyebrows. “Still have that tight booty?”

The twinkle in his eyes and the mischievous half smile he tries to cover with his drink, tells me everything I want to know. He likes the way I flirt with him, and he wants to show me just how tight that booty is.

“How about you?” he asks. “Any sports?”

“With a hard body like this? I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.” I laugh. “Just kidding. Unless jumping to conclusions and running my mouth count as sports, I didn’t do much other than play cards at lunch.”

“To be honest, I envied the kids who didn’t play sports. Don’t get me wrong, I loved playing, but the early morning practices got to me sometimes. Not to mention, my parents’ expectations often outgrew my ability to meet them.”

“Lucky for me, my folks didn’t expect anything from me… and that’s exactly what they got.”

“Now, don’t say that about yourself. Look at you. You’re handsome and kind. You’re pursuing your dream of becoming an actor. Personally, I think it’s refreshing.”

“You do?” I can’t believe someone who is an accomplished police officer and now detective, thinks me pursuing my dreams as an actor is refreshing. “Honestly, I haven’t received any good parts. I’ve been offered a job in a low-budget porno, and I’ve done a few commercials. That’s about it.”

I can tell Michael doesn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for me. He probably really wants me to elaborate on the low-budget porn thing too, but I decide to make him ask if he wants further details.

“Not everything happens overnight,” he says, washing down the chips with the last of his drink. “I have a feeling you’re going to make your mark.”

How can he have such faith in me? Something tells me he’s being sincere though, and the fact that he didn’t give me the talk about having a backup plan in case the acting career doesn’t pan out, makes him even more endearing to me. “And in case you were wondering, I didn’t accept the porno gig. Too low budget and there was no way I was going to star in a film named Haunted Holes.” I feign a shudder.

He laughs. “You don’t say? That’s one of my all-time favorites.”

“Gross,” I say and reach for a chip at the same time he does. Our hands brush against each other and send an electric chill down my spine.

So cliché and no way that could have really just happened, I think.

Since this isn’t a science experiment, I’m not able to test to see if it would happen again, but I do suddenly have a desire to feel his hands caressing my body.

My left nipple tingles, causing me to shiver.

“Are you cold?” Michael asks.

I nod thinking that would be the end of it.

He slides out from around his side of the booth and sits next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I lean into him and breathe in his scent. Despite dancing the night away at the concert, somehow this man still smells good. I could push my face right into his armpit but force myself not to—that’d be weird, right?

“I should get you home,” he says with a squeeze around my shoulders. “It’s getting really late.”

We pay the bill and leave. The car ride to my apartment is quiet, but again, not uncomfortable in the slightest. We listen to soft melodies, and I bask in the energy between us. Truly, the best night of my life. Once we arrive at my apartment, I turn to him.

“Thank you so much for a lovely evening.”

“My pleasure,” he says. “I’d like to take you out again soon, if you think you’re open to that?”

The words couldn’t come out fast enough. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Do we kiss? Hug?

He reaches over and hugs me. His warmth is soothing. I could fall asleep in his arms, pressed up against his thick, muscular frame.

I get out of the car, close the door, and hurry to my apartment. Before going inside, I turn back around and wave goodbye.

He waves back and slowly pulls away from the curb. I watch him go and then head inside, closing the door behind me. Once in the apartment, I twirl around, clutching my Lady Dame t-shirt to my chest.

God, I hope he calls me tomorrow.