Authors: Kelli Jae Baeli
Helki handed her glass over, as did Brittany, and Tru went to the kitchen. Helki went back to thumbing her bass softly, and Brittany listened and watched. “How long have you known Tru?”
“Let’s see...
it’s been a couple of years, now. She rescued me from another band of addicts.”
“Another?”
“Well, yeah, it’s often hard to find musicians who aren’t using something. Even if it’s too much alcohol. I was so thrilled when Tru invited me to play with her. She’s the real deal.”
“How so?”
Helki stopped playing. “It’s odd to know that you feel like a stranger in a strange land...that must suck. But if you’re trying to find out whether or not you can trust Tru, let me just say that she’s aptly named.”
Tru then appeared with the tea glasses on a tray, and served them both. She sat down at the console, took a drink of hers, had a puff of her eCig, and then looked at both of them. “What did I miss?”
12
BRITTANY SLIPPED BEHIND THE WHEEL of the leased Nissan and closed the door, for a moment unsure of whether she remembered how to drive it. The dealership delivered it, and it was identical to the one she had owned before, but—she decided her doubt was ridiculous, and
started the engine, careful to keep Tru’s tail lights in view. She had to know what sort of “appointment” would draw Tru out at this hour.
After a solid week of almost complete isolation on this mountain, does she really expect me to wait at that big empty house while she runs off to get her jollies elsewhere? Never mind what Helki said. What else would her best friend say? She had an interest in keeping Tru happy.
She had followed her for miles, from Castle Mountain, and Estes Park into the North edge of Boulder, through a jumble of obscure streets. After almost an hour of driving, Tru finally steered her Cherokee into a spacious parking area in front of a far-removed brick building behind a large warehouse. A sign at the landing by the front door read,
Finders-Keepers.
Brittany stopped her car, switched off her headlights, and watched Tru gather her things and go inside. She carried a guitar case.
Maybe it’s an open mic
.
Soon, more vehicles arrived, and more couples went inside, most of them female. “A damn gay-bar,” she grunted. She would have to go in, now. A shame to drive this far and then turn around and go home.
Traversing the lot to the door, she stepped inside, and was careful to keep her attention focused directly at the reception desk. She walked through the foyer quickly, for fear of being noticed by anyone she could not deal with. The man behind the desk recognized her. “Hey, darlin’, long time no-see.”
“Hi...” she said, off balance, then fumbled for the cash in her pocket.
“Don’t be silly, girl. You don’t have to pay, tonight. Have a good time.” He smiled impishly and stamped her hand with a little black silhouette of a bird.
“Thanks.” She touched the ink, and it came off on her finger, a transferable tattoo. She moved up the stairs from the foyer into a generous table-strewn room, vibrant with revelers. Ahead and below, she could see a larger room with even more tables. Candles glowed from netted bowls on each tiny table, and she was thankful for the darkness. She slithered through the clumps of bodies and chose a table in the corner by the stairs overlooking the stage beyond tables and chairs, behind which couples danced to the blaring pop music.
A waitress appeared to take her order, leaned down to look closely at her, and exclaimed, “Hey! How ya doin’ Brittany?
“Uh—hi...
fine...”
“You guys work it out?”
“I guess you could say that,” she answered evasively.
“That’s great. You two are such a perfect couple... we’ve got some of that white wine you like.”
“...sounds great.”
As she watched the waitress maneuver through the crowd toward the bar, she was struck with a sensation of vulnerability. A complete stranger knew what she drank, and she did not. Brittany’s eyes darted around the room, wondering if there were others who would recognize her. She chastised herself for not wearing a disguise. She could get up and leave, but then she’d have to admit her guilt in bad judgment, and somehow she didn’t like the way that felt.
Brittany scanned the area again, slowly. Two young women, short haircuts, but stylish and attractive, stood with their arms around each other watching two other women play pool. Leaning on the table nearby, a small, elegant woman with oriental features talked to another woman, gestured smoothly, tossing her hair away from her dainty shoulders and letting it sway where it fell to the back of her knees. She laughed, holding a glass of wine gracefully in one thin-fingered, long-nailed hand. Brittany thought the woman should be anywhere but here.
As she surveyed the other patrons, men and women, she noticed they all seemed diverse, yet bound in an elusive quality of family. Across the room she expected, somehow, to find wretched, desperate-looking souls hugging the bar, not confident-looking females totally ignoring the males...everyone seemed to blend in an odd, festive sort of way. It felt like a carnival, like a
jubilee. No one seemed to be alone. Some of the women were masculine, some of the men, feminine, but all were fused in an androgyny of harmonious revelry.
Brittany looked back at the dance floor behind the chairs and tables in front of her and knew that all these revelations must have taken place when she came back to Tru after whatever happened in Germany made her flee, and wondered why she still felt as if she were here for the first time. The waitress returned, interrupting her thoughts. “Here ya go.” She placed the goblet on a napkin bearing the club logo. “Anything else?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Okay. Enjoy the show.”
As the waitress zipped through the crowd again, taking a few orders as she went, carrying the tray above her head, Brittany pulled the eCig from her pocket and began to puff it in earnest.
The show
...
The music was loud, but no one else seemed to mind. They shouted above it. Brittany looked back toward the front door and saw the other marquee. Even from a distance, she could see it was Tru, though the name below the picture was ‘Raven.’
I’m stupid! Of course, the show...Tru wasn’t part of the show. She WAS the show.
Brittany felt a surge of adrenaline assail her veins and tried to ignore it, as she turned back to the stage where Tru would undoubtedly be performing soon.
“Brittany? Brittany Jabot?”
She turned and met the dark eyes of the woman; mildly attractive and wearing no makeup.
“Girlfriend, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! I emailed you a few times. Never heard from you. You and Raven get back together?”
Brittany cringed. “Seems like everyone else knows more about it than I do.”
The girl laughed and tapped Brittany’s arm. “Girl, you know how the grapevine is...the rumor one, not the bar.” She laughed openly at her own joke.
“The bar?”
“Haven’t been there, yet? Well, you ought to go. It’s about time they got us another choice besides this one and Menopause Manor, since all the older Lezzies took it over.”
Brittany took a generous drink of wine, hoping to drown anything stupid before it came out of her mouth.
“Hey. Gotta go. Good to see you!” The girl gave Brittany’s shoulder a meaningful squeeze and pushed through the crowd, having evidently spotted a target of some sort.
Brittany mocked a conversation.
“Hi, Brit.”...”Hi. Who the hell are you?”
Then she looked around sheepishly, casting an accusing glance at the half-empty wine glass in her hand.
A young man slid into the empty chair at her table. “Long time no see.”
“I’m sorry—”
“I know. I heard about your accident. I’m Travis—” He extended a hand and she shook it briefly. “I’m Macy’s brother.”
“Who?”
“Tru’s manager?”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” He slid the half-chewed drinking straw from his mouth. “So it’s not just a rumor. You really do have amnesia?”
She sighed wearily. “I’m afraid so.”
A show tune blasted through the video music accompanying the TV sets over the bar, and the din receded for a few seconds before the patrons began clapping and whistling, moving to tables near the stage and all around her in the upper level.
“Well, I didn’t mean to bother you. I wanted to drop over and say hi. Take it easy.”
She nodded as he got up and moved into the shadows by the bar.
She turned back to the stage and saw several young men milling about in the darkness. She noticed, now, as the lights came up a notch, the microphone stand in the center and a set of drums. Guitars were sitting on stands to either side.
A rather beefy looking girl touched the recently vacated chair at Brittany’s table and leaned down. “Can I borrow this chair?”
Brittany determined that the woman could easily break it so that no one else could sit in it, and since she did not want to draw any more attention to herself, she nodded amiably. “Sure.” The big girl slid the chair back to another table and sat down, gathering her tiny date into her lap, clapping and whistling toward the stage.
Brittany enjoyed another long drink and focused on the platform. A sultry epicene voice came over the loudspeaker. “Testes one, testes two! IIIIIIt’s show time!” The crowd cheered wildly, obviously drunk out of their minds, already.
A tall woman came out onto the stage in a red sequined gown and took a theatrical bow, shouting, “No applause, just throw money!” Seconds later a wadded dollar bill sailed over the stage, landing at the emcee’s feet. The crowd laughed and she added, “Oh, you’re too kind!” Then Brittany realized she was a he.
Oh, dandy, a drag queen
.
“I hope all you wild women brought a change of underwear!” The crowd responded eagerly, the big girl in the chair near Brittany’s table whistling with two fingers in her mouth, her large black diver’s watch catching the lights. “Have we got a show for you! After a short vacation— seems like years—our special guest has returned to us. I saw her backstage, and let me tell you...the things that honey does for leather is lethal!!” The audience responded with applause and wolf-calls, mostly from the women. “Please put your sweet little hands together and welcome to the stage, Ms. Gay Colorado and Lady of the Year...the princess of Rock and Roll...Raven!” The sequined emcee exited, and the clamor prompted Brittany to cover her ears.
The stage lights went out, and the backup band began a rock intro with a driving bass. An amber light pierced the dark stage; a spotlight aimed at Tru’s back. She watched the drummer, and bobbed his eyebrows at her. Helki moved toward her, thrumming the bass, and grinned, and Raven smiled back.
Her black leather jacket was accentuated with silver chains, and she wore faded, ripped blue jeans. Tru rocked one knee to the beat and turned, microphone in hand, to begin the song she had written not long ago. The background music boomed over the speakers, and Brittany froze in her seat as she watched Tru and listened to the crowd.
I don’t know where I’m goin’,
But I’m on my way right now,
Don’t know where I been to,
But I’m stayin’, anyhow.
I don’t believe in liars,
but I do believe in love,
Baby, are ya thinkin’
you’re the one I’m thinkin’ of?
I got it bad, lover, Cause you’re so good...
yeah, yeah
I got your number, Baby, I’ll call you up tonight
And we’ll wake up the neighborhood,
I got it bad, Cause you’re so good...
The music played on, thrumming bass, cracking drums, and bold electric guitar, while Tru took the dollar bills from the line of girls who had approached the stage. She kissed each one briefly on the cheek.
The next verse took Tru to the edge of the stage closest to Brittany, and reflexively, Brittany leaned back into the shadows hoping Tru wouldn’t see her.
...Ah, Baby you’re a Goddess,
you’re an angel in disguise,
A saucy prima donna,
with the devil in your eyes.
Can’t keep my heart from poundin’,
I can’t even catch my breath
I’ll take you in my arms,
and you can put me to the test.
I got it bad, lover, cause you’re so good...
Tru milked the song for its full effect, clutching her heart, and pointing to women in the crowd, as she romped about the stage. Audience members bounced and clapped and cheered. By the end of the song, she held a fistful of dollar bills, and had numerous others pushed through the links of the chains that dangled from her leather jacket. The waistband of her leather pants also held tips. The song ended abruptly, and Tru relaxed, smiling at the audience.
The women screamed and whooped at her, applauding brazenly, some of them banging their beer bottles on the tables, in an insistent rhythm. Brittany saw that many women, young and old, were comically swooning, gesturing at their hearts and fanning themselves and others with the drink coasters.
These people act like they’re locked in a cell five days a week,
she thought, then amended, o
r in a big house on a mountain...
She noticed that her lips had glued themselves into a smile, and she quickly wet them, the smile disappearing. Dry-mouthed, she was about to have more wine, when she noticed her hands were otherwise engaged, applauding with everyone else. She pressed them together, then dropped them in her lap. She had merely been responding to the energy of the crowd, she told herself. Her hands began to tremble and the reaction spread until she felt her whole body was one big shivering nerve. Her face felt hot, and she found it hard to breathe. Suddenly light-headed, she glanced around and noticed several women watching her reaction. Brittany looked away, unable to feel the seat beneath her.
Awkwardly, she started for the remaining wine and knocked it over. Jumping up, she tossed a few napkins on the spill. The same waitress appeared then. “It’s okay, Hon’...” She freed a towel from the string on her apron and sopped it up, heading for the bar.