‘BUT YOU’RE NOT AT HOME, ARE YOU? YOU’RE NEVER EVEN HERE!’ And as the words leave my mouth, I see them float across the space between us and smack her in the face.
‘Why do you think I’m not here, Robin?’ she shouts. ‘I’m not here because I am working my ass off to give you a life. I’m the only one doing that. I’m paying for your dance classes, I’m paying for your singing lessons, I’m making sure you have every opportunity in life, and you don’t even notice!’ She starts to pace around the table. ‘Well, fine, if that’s how you feel. If you don’t want to go to college next year, you won’t be sitting around on your arse while I pay for everything.’
‘I never expected to—’
‘You’re going to pull your weight, and you’re going to get a proper job,’ she says.
‘Mum, this could be a job! Just come on Friday and you’ll see what this could be, Mum! This could be—’
‘No, it’s not happening. Call them. Tell them you can’t.’ ‘You’re overreacting.’
‘You’re still not going.’
I open my mouth to speak, but don’t have a response.
I turn round and walk out of the door, desperate for air, desperate for space, ignoring Mum’s shouts behind me. This is all just too much.
I take my phone out of my pocket, the sudden urge to call Natalie disappearing when I remember we’re not speaking. I scroll down to SB and delete his number. Time to get him out of my hair. I can’t even be tempted any more. I scroll back up to Greg and press call.
‘Hey,’ he says. I didn’t think he’d pick up. ‘What’s up?’
‘I just . . . I needed . . .’ I’m crying so hard I can barely catch my breath. ‘I had another fight with Mum and I wanted to talk to somebody and I didn’t know who to talk to. I can’t call Nat right now, and I almost didn’t think I could call you, but—’
‘Why not, Seth?’ And it’s a stab. I don’t want Seth to come between us, that’s the last thing I want.
‘I’ve known Seth for three weeks; I’ve known you since we were, like, five and we got paired up as “buddies” on the first day of school,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry, Greg.’
He sighs. ‘Is that all you’ve got?’ he says.
‘I’m trying to make it right,’ I say. ‘I messed up. I mean, I really messed up. I never should have—’
‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ he interrupts. ‘Look, if that’s all you’re calling for, I’ve got stuff to do and—’
‘I don’t want to lose you, Greg,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have lied. I shouldn’t have kept all this from you when all you were trying to do was look out for me. I’ve been a shit friend.’
‘You have,’ he says, laughing a little. ‘Like, seriously shit. I’ve tried to be supportive here, but, Robin, this is ridiculous OK? You’re so . . . all or nothing. It was either all drag or none at all and it pushed me and Nat away. Nat more than me, I think, but still.’
‘I’m going to do better,’ I say. ‘I really am. No more lies.’
‘That’s a start.’
‘No more Connor.’
‘About bloody time,’ he says.
‘I deleted his number,’ I say. ‘That’s done.’
‘And Dragcellence?’ he asks.
‘I’m performing on Friday night,’ I say. ‘If you’re there it would mean the absolute world, but I understand if you can’t be. I wouldn’t blame you.’
‘OK, I’ll think about it,’ he says. ‘What about Natalie?’
‘I’m going to talk to her at school tomorrow,’ I say. ‘I’ve tried messaging her, but she isn’t responding.’
‘She’s mad.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I’m going to talk to her tomorrow. I just want her to be happy.’
‘Don’t give up on her,’ Greg says. ‘She’s mad at you, OK, but she loves you. She’s mad at you because she loves you, which is a weird thing, but it is what it is.’
‘I won’t,’ I say. ‘I can’t, she means too much to me.’ Silence falls on the other end of the line. ‘So you’re not mad?’
‘I’m less mad than I was,’ he says. ‘Just don’t do this to me again, Robin, OK? No more lying.’
‘I won’t,’ I say. ‘Never again, I promise.’
I can hear him smiling. ‘I have to go,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
TWENTY-EIGHT
I spend the rest of the week scrambling to get everything learned. Seth is still taking me to Entity whenever we can, Kaye working on the number with me, making sure the movements are perfect. The dress we’ve found is one that matches the one she plans to wear on Friday, so we really will look like some ‘Mother-Daughter, Toddlers-In-Tiaras eleganza!’ Kaye’s words, not mine.
Friday rolls round much too fast. Mum and I are barely talking. She has taken a couple of extra shifts, which means I get the house to myself, so I’ve spent the evenings practising, whether that’s my lip sync or my face. I’ve even found myself thinking of other numbers, things similar to what Kaye has done at Dragcellence. Numbers that are songs mixed with spoken word, pop-culture icons with pop music. But my focus is Friday’s number. I think I’ve finally nailed it too. The only thing that will be different is the audience, because everything changes when there is an audience.
The audience is what gives you that extra little rush of energy. You never know if it’s going to be for the best or for the worst, whether they’re going to be kind or whether they’re out for blood. It’s impossible to tell. I hope they’re feeling forgiving because as it creeps closer and closer to showtime, I’m a bag of nerves.
There’s just one thing I have to do first. Before the end of lunch on Friday, I find myself hurrying around the school trying to track Natalie down. She’s not in the common room. She’s not in the canteen. I eventually find her in the library.
She is sitting with Holly and Eric again. They’re deep in conversation and I don’t want to be rude, but I want to talk to Natalie if I can. I don’t want to just leave this hanging in the air.
I walk over to the table, trying to keep myself calm. Holly nudges Nat’s arm and she looks up as I approach.
‘Hey, Nat,’ I say.
‘What do you want, Robin?’
‘I don’t want to make a scene. I just wanted to see if we could talk.’
‘Robin, don’t—’
‘Look, you don’t have to listen to me,’ I say, trying to keep the shake out of my voice. ‘But I just want to say that I’m really sorry. I’ve properly screwed up. I lied to you, I wasn’t there for you when you needed me and I’ve been a shit friend. And I understand if you never want to talk to me again or you don’t want to forgive me. But I want you to know that I’m sorry and I love you.’ I take a breath. ‘That’s all.’
‘OK,’ she says. ‘Are you done?’
I nod.
‘OK.’ She turns back to her friends and they carry on talking. I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t expect her to outright forgive me, but I thought we might at least talk.
I turn round and walk away, not wanting her to see me cry, not wanting it to look like I’m trying to guilt her. That must be it, then. I might just have to let it go. Shit.
After school, I head home and rush upstairs, ignoring Mum, and jump in the shower. I shave, I play my song as loudly as I can, determined to get the lyrics perfect, so perfect that anyone would think I was singing live, determined not to let my car crash of an existence ruin the best chance I have to drag up my life. That’s what Kaye does, that’s what the best queens I’ve seen at Entity manage to do, that’s what I want to do.
There is no way Mum is going to let me go out tonight, so the only thing I can do is walk out. She’s already pissed at me.
I give myself a quick look in the mirror before I go, barrelling down the stairs at top speed, knowing I need to be there as fast as I can.
‘Where are you going?’ Mum asks as I come downstairs. ‘Robin Cooper, I said, where are you going
?’
‘You know where,’ I say flatly.
‘Robin.’
‘What?’
‘I told you that you weren’t going to that—’
‘Try and stop me,’ I interrupt.
‘Don’t walk out that door, Robin,’ she says. ‘Don’t do it. Don’t do things that you can’t take back.’
I know I’m overstepping, but right now I’m so desperate to find out what the heck I’m supposed to be doing with my life, if it’s this or something else, that I’m willing to push everything else aside. My hand is reaching for the door handle before I second guess myself, and I’m stepping out into the night with the sound of Mum’s voice echoing in my ears behind me. Then I’m on my bike and away.
It’s not how I want to start my evening, and when I make it to Entity I’m crying. And I must look a wreck because I walk into the dressing room upstairs and Carrie double-takes.
‘Good grief, sweetie, cheer up. It might not happen,’ she says, going back to glueing down her eyebrows. But it already has happened, and I don’t know how to say that to her. I don’t know what to say to anyone.
‘Typical drag queen, always late,’ Kaye pipes up from his station. ‘Come over here, sweetheart. We need to get you painted for the GODS before your professional debut.’
‘Sure,’ I breathe, dumping my bag down and heading towards him. I sit in front of the mirror and look at my face. My eyes are red and my skin is blotchy. I’ve missed a patch of stubble on my jawline so will need to get rid of that before I even start and Kaye is looking at me as if he’s seen a ghost. ‘What?’
‘Sweetheart, I mean this in the absolute nicest way possible,’ he says. ‘But you look an absolute wreck. And I’ve seen Carrie after a full day at Drag World, eyelashes stuck to her forehead, wig all askew—’
‘I can bloody hear you, you ungrateful hag,’ Carrie calls out. ‘Do you want your slot or not?’
‘Do you think you can fill it?’ Kaye snaps.
‘A queen like you? Dime a dozen.’
‘Oh, honey, that outfit tells me you should spend your dimes more wisely,’ Kaye parries.
‘If you two are done reading each other, there is a very upset little gay boy sat here who looks like he’s about to pass out,’ Pristine says, sitting to one side of me. She’s almost completely painted so her face is covered in glitter and gorgeousness. Even up close she looks perfect. That is a skill. ‘What’s up, sweet boy?’
I take a deep breath. I don’t want to keep crying – I can’t keep crying. I have to perform and it has to go well. This can’t be another failure in my life.
‘Everything’s falling apart,’ I say flatly. ‘My best friend isn’t speaking to me, my mum hates me, I don’t know what I’m going to do when term is over and I just . . .’ I can’t catch my breath. I’m having a breakdown in a room full of drag queens.
Pristine places a caring hand on my shoulder. ‘Why don’t you go outside and take a few deep breaths and calm down?’
‘She needs to get ready,’ Carrie says.
‘Well, there’s no point in putting make-up on her face if she’s just going to keep crying it off,’ Kaye snipes. ‘Come on, darling, all you’re breathing in here is setting powder and hairspray. Your lungs will be coated. Let’s get you outside, take a few deep breaths, steady yourself and then come back and get ready.’
I turn to Kaye. ‘I’m really sorry. I’m not usually like this—’
‘Tearful and dramatic?’ Kaye says with a raised eyebrow. ‘Darling, it’s part of your personal brand. Let’s go and sort you out then come back in here and get painted. You’ve got time.’
‘Hardly!’ Carrie calls.
‘Down, boy!’ Kaye barks.
Kaye leads me out of the dressing room, and down the stairs, the two of us heading for the alleyway where we first met. I don’t know when it became my crying place, but somehow it makes me weep harder than I was before.
‘Kaye, I don’t . . . I don’t know if I can do this,’ I whisper.
‘Right,’ he says. ‘Why?’
‘Everything is just falling apart,’ I say. ‘Mum doesn’t get it. She’s scared for me, she wants me to do something stable and . . .’
‘And you don’t want to?’
‘No.’
Kaye sighs, putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘And you think the answer to that is quitting?’
‘I don’t—’
‘Because what you need to be doing right now, Robin, is following that thing beating in your chest,’ he says, poking a finger hard at my heart. ‘You’ve been through some shit, OK? I understand that maybe more than most, the people upstairs too, but that isn’t a reason to give up on yourself.’
‘But it’s so hard, it’s—’
‘And it isn’t going to get any easier, kid,’ he says. ‘Life is full of shit like this, OK? Bad things happening, shitty people determined to drag you down instead of lifting you up. Sometimes you have to be your own biggest fan. That’s what I did. Have a little faith in yourself, Robin. Please.’ Kaye sighs. ‘Do you know how much it kills me that every time I think we’re getting somewhere, I see the light go from your eyes? I see that fear, all that self-doubt creep back in.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘You do your number and the second it’s over, I see you questioning, analysing, wondering what went wrong before you wonder about what went right. When you paint your face, you’ll notice the little bit that’s gone wrong before you’ll notice how good you look.’
‘Auditions really messed me up, huh?’
Kaye lifts my chin so I have to look him right in the face. ‘First thing you need to do is stop crying, because you can’t paint a good face if it’s all damp and shit,’ he says. ‘Second is you need to find that little place in yourself that believes in you. If you want to perform for a career, you’re going to go through the ringer on a weekly basis. Performers are some of the strongest people I know because if they let the rejection get to them then it’s over. You need to believe that you’re good enough. I do. Your mum does.’
I scoff.
‘She does, Robin, otherwise she wouldn’t have been paying for all your classes,’ he says. ‘Your friends believe in you. And here’s someone else who does too.’
‘Robin?’
I look up in the direction of the voice. Standing in the glorious light of the Essex sunset, is Seth. His blond hair is swooped over to one side, his dimples popping in his cheeks, his eyes wide with concern. I long for a day when Seth doesn’t have to come to my rescue for the slightest little thing, but today is not that day.
‘I’ll be upstairs,’ Kaye says. ‘Sort yourself out and come up when you’re ready.’ He checks his phone. ‘Which needs to be in the next fifteen minutes if you want to do a leisurely two-hour paint. Evening, Seth. Have a word, would you?’ Kaye heads back into the club.
‘Hello,’ I say, trying to sound bright, but the quake in my voice gives away just how fragile I am right now. ‘Lovely night.’
‘What was that?’
‘Motherly advice,’ I sniff.
‘Why are you crying?’ he asks.
‘Oh, the usual.’ I sniff again. Tearful and dramatic sums it up pretty perfectly right now. Maybe I should put it in my Instagram bio. ‘Sorry,’ I add. ‘I guess I’m just not feeling my best right now.’
‘Well, I gathered that from the crying,’ he says. ‘How are you feeling about tonight?’
‘That’s just a whole other set of things,’ I say.
He sighs. ‘Without the theatrics.’
I look at him and see that his eyes are kind and genuinely worried about me. I mean, I’d probably be worried about me too if I saw me crying in an alleyway and not for the first time. But he’s become my person in all this. He’s the enabler, he’s the one who has helped make this happen even when I was ready to throw in the towel. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for him.
I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms round him as ti
ghtly as I can. He reciprocates quickly and I breathe in the calming scent of him.
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘Talk, and talk fast – you have a show to get ready for.’
Just hearing that makes me nearly throw up.
‘I’m nervous,’ I say. ‘It’s sort of like stage fright but there’s something about it that seems like there’s a touch more pressure on it.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m about to find out if this was all worth it,’ I say. ‘And the last time I was onstage, it was a massive failure. And the time before that was auditions, where I put all the work in and did everything I could and I still failed. I’m sick of failing. I’m failing at everything. I just want something in my life to go right, something to . . .’ I trail off because I can feel myself getting worked up again. ‘Sorry.’
Seth puts his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look him in his beautiful face, to stare into those sparkly eyes.
‘You’re allowed to have feelings,’ he says. ‘You’re allowed to be nervous, but for goodness’ sake, Robin, just believe in yourself a little bit, huh? You’re really fucking talented, but you can’t keep relying on other people to tell you that. I know you believe in it somewhere deep in your soul so will you just listen to that part of yourself and go in there and . . .’ He hesitates for a moment. ‘Slay the house down, boots or whatever the heck the phrase is.’
I laugh. And it helps. I laugh a little more and feel that vague darkness in my chest lift a touch. He’s smiling too, and it really is the most beautiful smile ever. Like, I feel as if I should have to pay to see it; it’s a walking work of art.
‘I should probably go and get ready.’
‘Probably.’
Neither one of us moves. His hands are still on my shoulders, his eyes still locked on mine, and there is that energy between us again. I know he feels it too – he has to. And then he’s leaning in. And that magnetic pull, that spark that I feel around him, that buzzing in my entire body is pulling us together. And our lips are touching.
The world around me falls away, the club, the alleyway, the distant sounds of pedestrians, of traffic, of anything other than this one moment. His hands move from my shoulders to the small of my back and he’s pulling me closer and I reciprocate, desperate to have my hands on him.
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