“Exactly. Damn feminist friends. With all their feminism. Down with the patriarchy.”
“Because that’s believable. Say hi to Darren for me.”
“I will burn everything you love.”
“Hollow threat. I love you, therefore you’d have to burn yourself.”
“Well played. Damn you.”
I didn’t know what Darren was up to, but I didn’t like it one bit.
I would figure out his game.
And I would make him wish he’d never decided to play in the first place.
I laughed evilly as my grip tightened on my phone.
Chapter 7: Hey, Republicans! Suck My Balls!
NORMALLY, I arrived at Jack It at eight on Wednesdays to prepare for my show at nine, but Mike had texted me that morning,
asking that I come earlier and meet with him. I couldn’t think of a single damn thing he’d need to meet with me over, not that I was really giving it that much thought. I was more distracted by Darren and plotting his death in such a way that it would look like an accident. I didn’t know if it would be believable or not if he suffered a fall from the balcony above the dance floor. I would have to be distraught. Repentant. Possibly screaming why, why, whyyyyy. I could do it. It wouldn’t be that hard. Naturally, I wasn’t arriving early to speak with him at all, even though he wanted to. Darren would never have access to the Queen’s Lair, I’d make sure of that.
Vince and Paul had promised to bring my wigs and costumes later so I wouldn’t have to try and carry everything in myself. Corey had a late class on Wednesdays and was usually too drained to attend my show, the poor dear. I’d told him that his education was far more important than any old thing I would be doing, which is why he was living with me rent free to begin with. That had brooked a few heated arguments, but in the end, I’d won, however begrudging the victory had been.
When Corey had announced he was coming back to Tucson, I knew I was going to do everything I could to make the transition smooth. His foster parents didn’t have anything to contribute to him (not that I thought he’d actually take anything from them, even if they did), so I felt personally responsible for him. I was the one who’d found her as she was then, a seventeen-year-old girl in a frayed but pretty dress, riffling through the racks at a secondhand clothing store, trying to find a skirt that she could wear to school. She’d been in awe of me when I told her the reason I was looking through women’s clothing. I was in awe of her (and him and therefore them) when she told me the reason she was looking through women’s clothing, her words shy and her voice small. I’d paid for her clothes that day and took her to lunch, and when we parted the first day, my number programmed into her phone and a promise to meet the following weekend, I had hugged her. She’d been stiff for a moment, unused to any kind of physical contact. But I waited. And she’d hugged me back.
He was Corey the next time I saw him.
She was Kori when she’d shown me the acceptance letter to Dartmouth.
He was Corey when he’d graduated high school.
She was Kori when she cried about leaving.
He was Corey when he’d moved across the country.
She was Kori when she’d told me she’d met a boy named Tyson Thompson.
He was Corey when he said they were dating.
She was Kori when they’d broken up.
Corey when they became best friends, Kori when she said she wanted to come back home, Corey when he decided to transfer to the University of Arizona, Kori when she said she was spending part of the summer in Oregon, Corey when he’d whispered conniving plans down the phone line in getting Tyson and his hot cop together.
Darren wanted to talk to me.
Corey had a penchant for interfering.
I wouldn’t put it past him to have his finger in this somehow.
But no matter.
I had more important things to deal with.
Like why the owner of Jack It needed to meet with me.
Mike was a bit of an asshole, which is why I liked him. He ran a tight ship, everything from the go-go boys to the bartenders to the support staff vetted personally by him. Everyone knew that if you worked at Jack It, you worked hard, were paid well, and your boss was a fucking dick.