Boy Queen

by George Lester

  ‘Hmmm,’ Natalie says, putting a finger to her chin and looking skyward. ‘I wonder what the actor-dancer-SINGER could do at an open mic.’ She punches me in the arm. ‘Sing out, Louise!’

  ‘I didn’t know you were a singer,’ Seth says, reminding me he is there and I look like a total dick right now.

  ‘Can you be called a singer if you don’t sing?’ Natalie postures.

  ‘Stop it.’

  ‘Come on,’ she groans. ‘It’s just a suggestion. You go up there, you sing a song – what’s the worst that could happen?’

  ‘The worst that could happen?’ I repeat. ‘The worst that could happen is that I could burst into flames and die. I’m unprepared, I’m not warmed up, I’m—’

  ‘Making excuses,’ Natalie says. ‘Look, you can go and get your name taken off the list if you want but someone needs to get you to bounce back, OK? So bounce the fuck back, or bounce.’

  She stares me down. I love singing, I really do, but if I’d known I was doing this I would have prepared something, rather than just going up there, plugging my phone in and hoping for the best.

  I take a breath. I can totally do this. I’m frantically searching for the Robin I was before and coming up with nothing, so it looks like I’ll just have to fake it.

  ‘OK,’ I say, pulling my phone out of my pocket, scrolling through the instrumentals I have. ‘But I’m still a little bit mad at you for doing this,’ I add.

  ‘Understandable,’ Natalie says. ‘But you can thank me later.’ She walks away, heading in the direction of Greg and Priya, making eyes at Seth and I as she goes.

  ‘You’re looking a little green,’ Seth says, which pulls my attention back to him. He is smiling at me, trying his best to be supportive in the face of my breakdown. ‘Maybe you should get some air before they call your name,’ he adds. ‘The last thing you want to do is go up there and vom.’

  I blink. ‘Is this you giving me a pep talk?’

  ‘It was meant to be.’ He chuckles. ‘Definitely not my finest. Can I try again?’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘You’ve totally got this,’ he says.

  ‘You’ve never even heard me sing before.’ And something about this is calming me down, something about the way he is looking at me, the way his eyes twinkle a little bit in the limited light.

  ‘I know,’ he says with a shrug. ‘But Natalie wouldn’t put you up for this if she thought you were going to be shit. She’s your friend – she wouldn’t want to embarrass you.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘And I’m excited to hear you sing,’ he says, flashing me that smile again. ‘It’s not what I was expecting for my night out, but sometimes unexpected is better, right?’

  That is quite possibly the dorkiest thing I have ever heard, but I kind of want to write it into a journal over and over and over again until it’s imprinted on my soul.

  ‘Thanks, Seth,’ I say. ‘I’m going to step outside. Do you . . . want to join me? You can keep working on your pep-talk skills.’

  He smiles. ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘I’ll meet you out there.’

  ‘OK.’

  I work my way through the crowd, glad to be out in the night air when it hits me with the slightest chill. I keep my head down, trying not to let anyone see my face. It’s one thing to be in Entity wearing make-up, but out on the street alone I feel exposed. I start to hum quietly to myself, a desperate attempt at a warm-up.

  I decide on a song, ‘Feeling Good’ by Michael Bublé in a pretty high key. If I’m going to sing in front of Seth, I might as well try something impressive.

  The streets are a little more crowded than they were earlier. Sure, it’s not as bad as it would be if we’d come down here for Dragcellence, but this town has a thriving nightlife during the week because of the nearby universities and colleges. I’m nervous, Mum’s words echoing in my head, but I keep my head down, keep on pacing, keep on humming.

  ‘Robin?’

  I look up and am suddenly face to face with Connor. Connor who I’ve not spoken to in days. Connor who has stopped trying to catch my eye at school. And now he’s saying my name like nothing has changed. And I can feel myself getting sucked back in.

  He is smiling at first, but then his face twists into a look of absolute disgust. I look around him, looking for his friends. Is he out here alone?

  ‘What are you doing?’ Connor hisses.

  ‘What do you—?’

  ‘What are you doing here? What’s . . . ?’ He trails off and looks at my face. He can’t find the words and I suddenly realize what I must look like to him. A boy standing in the middle of town, a face covered in bright colours, a war paint that is supposed to make me fearless, but which right now makes me want to curl up into a ball and die. ‘Why are you wearing that?’

  ‘The make-up?’ I ask dumbly. Of course the make-up.

  ‘What do you think I’m talking about?’ he hisses. ‘You look weird . . . like a . . . What are you doing, Robin? It’s disgusting.’

  The word is like a dagger in my chest. It punctures my heart and I bleed out any bit of confidence the make-up had given me when I’d first put it on.

  ‘Disgusting?!’ I echo. It comes out like a squeak. I expect him to say something else, to correct himself, to apologize, but he’s just staring at me.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ A new voice comes from nearby. Connor is still staring at me, his mouth a little open. He doesn’t know what to say. ‘Oi, queerbait, I’m talking to you.’

  I turn my head, ever so slightly, and see that Connor isn’t alone. I was so focused on him, so fixated, I didn’t even think to check my surroundings, to be careful like we usually are.

  Ryan appears at Connor’s side, his eyes locked on me, wide, angry. He was there when it happened the first time. Oh shit, what was I thinking coming outside? Connor’s other friends are around him too. Thomas, Sean, Will, Zach, every one of them staring at me.

  ‘I was just—’

  ‘Speak up!’ Zach shouts.

  ‘I’m here,’ I say, pointing behind me at Entity. ‘I’m here with my friends.’

  ‘Faggot boy at the little faggot club with his faggot friends?’ Ryan spits. The other lads laugh, backing him up. Every time he says that word it’s like a thousand cuts.

  ‘Ryan . . .’ Connor starts.

  ‘What? This little faggot trying it on with you?’ he grunts. Another thousand.

  Connor looks past Ryan to me. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Little faggot.’ Another thousand. Though coming from Connor, more like a million.

  It’s a word I can’t stand. I hate giving power to words, but that one gets me something rotten. And I can feel my eyes filling up because I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know what to say, and I’m thrown back to what happened over the summer and have no idea how to defend myself right now because all I can think is how it shouldn’t be happening here.

  This is supposed to be a sanctuary. How can it be that I’m only a metre away from the doors and I’m already having this kind of shit thrown at me, just because I’ve got a bit of make-up on my face. Is this what the world is like? We get these little pockets of queerness to thrive in, but the rest of it is a straight man’s playground and they can call me that word if they want. Why are there people walking by on the street, watching this happen? Watching as Ryan steps closer to me, getting right up in my face now while I cower away, desperate to go back to Entity, back to the safety of those four walls.

  ‘Hey!’ I turn to see Seth hurrying down the steps of the club and pushing himself between me and Ryan. ‘Leave him alone.’

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Just leave him alone,’ Seth growls.

  ‘Something going on here, fellas?’ I turn my head and it’s the bouncer. He’s bigger than Ryan, taller, broader, built like a brick shithouse, with the most perfect poreless skin you’ve ever seen on any human being. He puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘You all right?’

  ‘No,’ I squeak.

&nbs
p; ‘On your way, lads, come on,’ he says, ushering them away, stepping in front of Seth. Ryan and his friends start to disperse, heading off down the street into the night, but Connor is still standing there, squaring up to Seth. ‘Back inside, fella,’ the bouncer says to Seth. ‘It’s not worth it – trust me.’

  I look at Connor, watching him blur and ripple through the tears in my eyes. He is still looking at me like my very existence is disgusting to him. Like a giant beacon asking me what the hell I was thinking. He opens his mouth. He closes it. He walks away.

  ‘You OK?’ Seth puts a solid hand on my shoulder and it grounds me somehow, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I must still look like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces because he cautiously pulls me into a hug. ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘It’s not all right,’ I sniff. ‘It’s really not.’

  ‘Who was that? Do you know him?’

  ‘Robin?’ a voice calls from Entity, and I pull myself away from Seth to see Natalie poking her head out of the door. She sees me and I catch the smile before it vanishes. She looks confused. I can hardly blame her – I was hugging Seth when she stepped outside. She quickly rights herself. ‘They’re calling your name. It’s time to show them what you’ve got.’

  SEVENTEEN

  What I’ve got.

  Show them what I’ve got.

  All I’ve got right now are nerves that are rattled and a whole lot of issues that no audience or therapist has enough time to work out, at least not tonight.

  ‘Robin?’ Natalie says again, because I’ve not moved. She hurries over to me, grabbing my hand.

  ‘I don’t know if this is such a good idea,’ Seth says as she starts to lead me back towards Entity, but I shoot him a warning glance, willing him to keep quiet about what’s just happened.

  ‘What?’ Natalie snaps.

  ‘Look at him – he’s shaking,’ Seth says.

  ‘He’s just nervous.’ Natalie is looking at me with hopeful eyes and I don’t want to disappoint her. ‘Come on, they’re waiting for you.’

  I nod. I turn my smile back on, try to make everything look fine because I don’t want to worry anybody, but behind the smile I’m scrambling. My brain runs through a million and one scenarios, every single one of them giving me a way out. But I stay quiet and let Natalie lead me back inside and up on to the stage. She heads back over to where Greg and Priya are standing.

  I hand my phone to the little techie, who nods and plugs it in, getting the song going before I have a chance to say anything.

  Natalie is smiling, so are Greg and Priya, both of them sending all the good vibes they possibly can from over at the bar. Seth is with them and he’s forcing a grin on to his face, but he looks worried, like he knows this isn’t going to end well.

  It’s disgusting.

  I open my mouth to sing and . . . well . . . something comes out. It’s not the sound I’m used to, not the usual power behind it, the usual confidence that I have when I perform this song. Where has that Robin gone? It’s Michael Bublé. He’s cocky when he performs, he’s a badass (you know . . . sort of). The way to do it is big and bold, but I’m up here like a mouse, barely whispering the words.

  Natalie knows something is wrong. The encouraging look has vanished from her face and been replaced by big, concerned eyes. The bridge comes and the notes aren’t there and I am butchering this song in front of the entire room.

  People start talking, whispering to one another, maybe wondering what the hell I’m doing, what I’m playing at, why I even bothered to get up here, and I want to explain to them what happened outside.

  It’s disgusting.

  I want to wipe the make-up off my face, wipe this entire night from existence. Is there a make-up wipe big enough?

  It’s disgusting.

  I wipe a tear from my eye because now I’m crying apparently, unable to stop the tears from falling down my face because this is horrible. I’m hot and embarrassed and wishing the song away, but it is the longest four minutes of my life.

  I push into the last chorus, battling my way towards the final note, which I reach for and miss by a mile. Natalie can’t hide the disappointment on her face, Greg winces, Seth is still trying to look supportive, still trying to smile, but it’s a struggle.

  The song ends and the applause is modest to say the least. And I rush from the stage before they can even call another name, before anything else can happen to make this night worse. But I don’t go to my friends, I don’t go to Seth, I hurry back outside because this doesn’t feel like a sanctuary right now. It feels like a nightmare.

  I push through the doors and into the night, turning down the alleyway down the side of the pub and leaning against the wall. Tears roll down my face, but I try not to make a sound. I don’t want anybody’s attention right now; I just want to disappear. I should have just said no when Natalie told me it was happening.

  ‘You forgot your phone.’ There is a voice to my left. I look up and see a man holding it out to me. It’s the techie. He’s taken his glasses off and is smiling at me sadly. ‘Come on, hun, I haven’t got all night.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, taking it from him. And I’m not sure if I’m apologizing for the shitshow of a performance I just did or for keeping him waiting. ‘I forgot it . . .’

  The man chuckles. ‘No,’ he says. ‘And there was me thinking it was a parting gift or something.’ He’s still there. What does he want, a tip? ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Oh me?’ I say, sniffing. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, perfect, never better.’

  ‘Ooh, she’s a feisty one, huh?’ he says, stepping a little closer.

  ‘I messed it up,’ I say. ‘It happens, right? Everybody has bad performances.’

  ‘Well, sure, but usually they just shrug them off and carry on, not have a full diva breakdown in an alleyway outside the klerb,’ he says, folding his arms and pouting. ‘Seriously, hun, you don’t seem OK. You seem like you’re on the verge.’ He looks around. ‘Where the hell are your friends?’

  I sigh. ‘Probably waiting for me to be less dramatic,’ I say. ‘Or waiting until I come out of hiding. I mean, I did just come down this alleyway to hide.’

  ‘You’re shit at hiding. If they do an Olympics hide-and-seek, give it a miss, m’kay?’ he says.

  He’s still waiting, his eyes still fixed on me. Is he waiting for me to calm down? Does he want me to come back inside?

  ‘I’m honestly fine,’ I say. ‘You don’t have to wait for me. Don’t you have to get the next act on?’

  ‘We’re taking a break,’ he says. ‘That performance was a lot to process.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘You were there,’ he says. ‘Some of it wasn’t horrible.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘I mean, your make-up looked good when you started.’

  I snort. ‘What do you know?’

  The man laughs. ‘Oh, more than you’d think,’ he says. He lifts my chin and looks into my face. ‘What you need sweetheart, apart from a make-up wipe because wow she’s a messy girl right now, is a little bit of eyeshadow primer on that lid,’ he says. ‘It works a treat. Those colours will really pop if you do that.’ He claps his hands together, a smile stretching across his face. ‘I have some upstairs in my dressing room, hang on.’

  He rushes back inside, reappearing moments later with a pack of make-up wipes and a small mirror. I take the makeup off, my face looking a little shiny and a lot red when I manage to get it all off.

  ‘Thank you,’ I whisper, my voice finally steadier. ‘Why are you helping me?’

  He shrugs. ‘I don’t know, sweetheart,’ he says. ‘You looked a little wounded and sometimes a girl has to do a good deed for a sister in need. Don’t think for one second I do this for everyone. And maybe don’t tell anybody that I helped you. I like to keep the idea that Kaye Bye is an almighty bitch as part of the persona.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A persona, dear. It’s like a personal brand but better bec
ause it just sounds more posh and less like a wannabe influencer.’

  I blink. Hold on. What did he say?

  ‘You’re Kaye Bye?’ I say, incredibly slowly, more slowly than is entirely necessary. I can hardly keep my breathing steady, so much for me calming down. ‘Kaye Bye the drag queen who performs at Dragcellence?’

  The man steps away from me and lifts his arm in a flourish, popping his leg and flashing his perfect teeth. ‘The very same,’ he coos. ‘I see you’ve heard of me, all bad, I hope.’

  I don’t know what I expected Kaye Bye to look like out of drag. As a boy he looks, well, unremarkable. He’s wearing dark blue jeans and a plaid shirt, a little stubble across his chin. If I passed him on the street, I would have no idea. The only thing that really gives him away is that when he lifts his arm and smiles, I can actually see her, a glimpse of her at least, like she’s absolutely busting to get out.

  ‘I saw you a couple of weeks ago at Dragcellence,’ I say, in a hurry. ‘It was my birthday, and the absolute best thing I’ve ever seen. My friend took a video and I have watched it far too many times. You’re incredible.’

  ‘Oh well, darling, you’re awful kind,’ he says. ‘And I do my best.’

  ‘You made me want to do it,’ I say. ‘You’re the reason I was here in a little bit of make-up. I’ve been painting my face, following tutorials, all sorts. I’m a theatre kid.’

  He raises an eyebrow. ‘You are?’

  My face goes red hot. ‘OK, tonight was not a good example,’ I say. ‘But usually I am.’

  ‘And I made you want to do drag?’ he says, placing a hand on his chest. ‘Well, oh my stars, I am quite flattered, young man, thank you.’ He checks his phone and sighs. ‘OK, I need to head back inside, and you should too. Your friends are probably looking for you. Apparently this is a good hiding place.’

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘Thank you for bringing my phone back,’ I add. ‘And it was a pleasure to meet you. You really are incredible. Like, I’ve never seen anything like what you do. It was amazing.’

  He smiles and there she is again, bubbling up towards the surface. ‘Well, thank you.’ He curtseys and starts back towards Entity. He stops as he reaches the end of the alleyway, turning back to look at me carefully. ‘Look, I don’t normally do this because, like I said, Kaye isn’t exactly the nicest of ladies.’