Page 52 of Up In Smoke
Trixie stands back up, her make-up still perfect despite rubbing Klaus’s fur into it. “Service dogs are welcome when we’re open,” she informs me earnestly. “But when it’s just family durin’ the day, I say that’s fine. I’m the boss, after all!” She laughs heartily, and I find myself smiling faintly with her.
My heartrate is slowing a little, I think.
“Shall we take a pew on the boards, sweetie?” she asks me. “Can I get you some water? You look a little spooked.”
I’d be embarrassed about my stupid gremlins still causing me trouble, but I’m so touched by her kindness, I just find myself nodding. Wordlessly, she leads me by the elbow to perch on the edge of the stage, Klaus sitting by my feet, and she’s back in aflash with some cold water in a glass complete with ice and a slice of lime.
“Don’t be nervous,” she says brightly as she drops to sit beside me. “You’re gorgeous, and your muscle tone is insane, so I already have a hunch that you’ll be just fine. Your application said you’ve been dancin’ for years, so I assume you have an itty bit of rhythm in those hips.”
“Um, yeah, I think so,” I say, taking a gulp of water and letting its coolness rinse through me.
Breathe, just breathe.
I glance back at the bar and try and weigh up if it’s worth me wasting Trixie’s time. But as I’m nibbling my lip, I feel her hand slip over my knee and squeeze, making me look back at her.
“You’ve been through it, huh?”
I gaze down at my water. If I admit she’s right, will that harm my chances of getting hired? Or does she deserve to know the truth?
If I’ve learned anything since I started taking my recovery seriously, it’s that honesty is always the best policy.
“I’m four months sober,” I rasp, shame burning through me.
Except Trixie shakes my leg and squeals in delight. “Really? That’s fantastic! Oh, hon. I’m so proud of you. Now I can see why you’re frettin’, but would it help to know that I have a strict no drinkin’ policy for everyone who works here? From me to my boys to my gals that keep the Tavern spick and span. While you’re on my clock, you’re sober as a judge.”
A nervous, shaky laugh falls out of me, and I blink back tears as I look at her. “That’s good to know, yeah. Thank you.”
“Obviously, our guests do drink, though,” she says seriously. “Some of them…a lot. Is that gonna be a problem for you, sweetie?”
I swallow and consider it before answering. “I’m not sure,” I say truthfully. “But I know rules help me and I don’t like lettingpeople down. So that could make it easier on me. I might not know until we reach that point, though.”
“All righty, then.” She slaps my thigh and grins at me. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But you won’t get a lick of judgement from me or any of my boys, you here me? We accept all kinds of kinds around here. That’s pretty much why I came out west and started this silly dream of mine.”
My hands are more steady now and my heart feels less like a galloping horse. “It looks great from what I’ve seen,” I tell her earnestly. Kitsch, perhaps. Definitely fun and cute. But that doesn’t mean silly to me.
“It’s taken a lot of elbow grease and cussin’ to get it this shiny, I’ll say.” She whistles and jumps to her feet. “Would y’all like a tour? We can gab on the way.”
“That sounds great.”
I leave my water on the bar counter and Klaus trots by our feet. Trixie slips her arm through mine and leads us toward the side of the stage. “Okie dokie, this is where you’ll be shakin’ your toosh. We do a lotta group numbers, so I’ll get you to learn a few eight counts for me later and see how you fare. But everybody does solos, too. I like have little themes, you know? Makes the guys and gals holler louder if there’s a story. I’ve got a doctor, a football player, a tiger, a superhero, hell, even an alien who comes to ‘probe’ all the sexy earthlings.” She titters to herself as she pulls me backstage. But then she frowns. “We used to have a cop who arrested folks, but that didn’t sit right with me no more. So now one of my boys does this whole routine with a metal grinder, making actual sparks fly. Ain’t that neat?”
“Wow, yeah,” I agree. “I, um, actually really liked making up characters and stuff at my old place. But the manager hated it. He said I was overthinking something simple and customers just wanted me to take my damn clothes off.” He actually threw inthe usual homophobic slurs as well, but I don’t want to bring the mood down like that by mentioning it.
Trixie snorts. “Let me guess? He was straight, white, and cis?” I nod and she tuts. “Well, we’reallabout bein’ camp around here, sugar. Life’s too short not to live your truth and live it damn loud. People come here to the Tavern for a fantasy. Just like folks do in Vegas. It’s supposed to be escapism. So you have a think on some ideas. The more ridiculous, the better. I wanna hear them.”
“I actually had a cowboy act before, if you can believe it,” I tell her with a shy laugh.
“Well ain’t that somethin’?” she cries. “That seems like fate to me you’d end up here then.” We open a door into a noisy space that’s half dressing room, half rec room. “Okay! So this is where you’ll hang with the rest of my boys. Hey, y’all!”
A couple of the dancers are rehearsing. Others are stretching, eating, or on their phones. There are more than the ones I saw previously on the stage. They all call out in a cacophony of voices.
“Hey, Mama!”
“Hey, Trixie!”
“Oh, is this the new guy?”
“Of course it’s the new guy.”