Salacious Stand Up: A Funny Lesbian Romance by Nicolette Dane (2016-06-22)

by Nicolette Dane

  “Macy?” she asked. Lance got his bearings, pushing his cigarette back into his mouth, and headed outside to smoke on it.

  “Amy?” I said carefully.

  She laughed.

  “You saved me a seat,” she said sweetly. “Aw.” Looking down, I saw my purse on the stool next to me and quickly hoisted it up.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I was really just trying to keep anybody from sitting next to me.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Should I sit over there?” said Amy, pointing down the length of the bar.

  “Nah,” I said. “I suppose you can saddle up next to me. Just as long as you’re not a talker.”

  “I’m a mute,” said Amy with a grin, tossing her sunglasses onto the bar and climbing onto the stool. “So here I am,” she said. “You picked a good place to meet. A dead bar in the middle of the day. No autograph signing for me.”

  “Well, except for me,” I said, reaching for my purse. “I think I have a tampon you can sign.”

  “I can leave a different kind of mark on that if you like,” she said. I couldn’t help myself and I burst out laughing.

  “Okay, okay,” I said. “You win.” Amy grinned.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Macy,” she said, extending her hand. We shook. “Oppenheimer tells me you’re probably the next big thing.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “Maybe the next big small thing.”

  “Yeah, I look like a fucking monster next to you,” crooned Amy. “You really make me feel bad about myself.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “At least people notice you. People forget about me until they unearth me from their couch cushions.”

  “Whatever,” said Amy, looking at me and making a dumb face.

  “Well, thanks for coming out,” I said, taking a turn from the jokes and getting a bit more serious. “It means a lot to meet you. I’m actually a really big fan.”

  “Thank you,” said Amy with a smile. “It’s nice to meet another chick comedian who’s helping to break down the bullshit barriers in this industry. We gotta stick together.”

  “Right,” I said. “I’m on board.”

  “So tell me about your act,” she said. “And damn it, I shouldn’t have let that bartender have his smoke.”

  “No worries,” I said, standing up with my feet on the crossbar of the stool. I reached across the bar, picked up a glass and a bottle of bourbon. I filled the glass for Amy and refilled my own glass.

  “A lady of action,” said Amy, taking a sip.

  “So, um,” I said, beginning to answer Amy’s question. “I guess my act is sorta similar to yours,” I admitted. “Kinda, like, raunchy sex jokes.”

  “I like,” said Amy with a grin. “But you’re making a face. Are you not enjoying it?”

  “Well, I mean, sure,” I said. “I get a lot of laughs and the audience loves me. But I feel like I’m kinda shortchanging myself.”

  “Is that a backhanded dig at my act?” asked Amy with mock anger. “You trying to say that I’m lowest common denominator?”

  “No no!” I protested. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

  “I’ve heard that far too many times.”

  “I mean, it’s just that I’m having a little problem with my act,” I said carefully. “See… I’ve been doing raunchy sex stuff about guys but, well, I’m… a lesbian.”

  “What?” said Amy, breaking out into a laugh. “You’re crazy. Macy, you’re nuts.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a fucking lesbian and you’re getting up there on stage talking about dating guys?” she asked incredulously. “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “It just… worked,” I peeped, feeling like I was retracting into my shell. “When I first started, I gave it a go and I got laughs.”

  “Right,” said Amy. “I mean, that shit will get you through your humble beginnings, girl.” Amy took another sip from her glass and made a face. “Not very good bourbon.”

  “Sorry,” I mused.

  “But if you hit the big time,” she continued. “I mean, people are gonna know that you’re a lesbian. You can’t hide behind your anonymity forever. You can’t be totally fake up there on stage.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m trying. I’m getting out of that phase. I’m working on lesbian material, stuff that’s closer to my reality.”

  “Good,” she said. “You gotta be yourself,” said Amy. “On stage and in life. Audiences aren’t dumb. Stand up is about telling the truth and making it funny.”

  “Well!” I said with an exasperating sigh. “This meeting went south pretty quickly.”

  “Oh stop,” said Amy. Her eyes were wild with excitement and she had a very accepting smile on her lips. “Isn’t this the whole reason I’m here? You’ve got a lot on your plate coming up and you need a bitch like me to come in and set you straight.”

  “I suppose so,” I said.

  “Okay, so listen to me then,” continued Amy. “You keep doing this fake stuff, you’re going to get found out. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow… wait,” she said, stopping herself. “You’re not in the closet are you?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Oh God!” she groaned.”Macy, c’mon.”

  “I am!” I protested. “I’m working on new material, I’m trying it out.”

  “Fine,” Amy relented. “Okay, so like I was saying… if you happen to get some notice and screen time, people are gonna know. They’re gonna know you’re faking it. So just drop that shit now and be you. Cool?”

  “Cool,” I said, looking down into my drink. I hadn’t really felt more ashamed of myself for living on a lie on stage than I did in that moment. Amy’s straight talk really was just what I needed. She was telling me what I already knew, what I was already trying to fix, but hearing it from her really solidified the change I knew I needed to make.

  “Chin up,” she said, giving my drink a tap with her fingernail. “I’m not trying to really be a bitch. I’m just trying to help.” She smiled.

  “I appreciate it,” I said.

  Just then, Lance came traipsing back into the bar and quickly jogged behind it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking between the two of us frantically. “Oh,” he mused, interrupting his own energy. “You have a drink.”

  “My pal Macy was kind enough to pour me one,” smiled Amy. “You can pour yourself one if you like,” she said to Lance.

  “If I start drinking now,” he said. “I’ll be far too hammered by the time this place actually gets busy.”

  “Then you better leave the drinking up to me and my girl,” said Amy. She raised her glass toward me and, taking her cue, I clinked my glass into hers.

  “Your girl, huh?” I said. “All this talk about being true to yourself, yet here you are admitting that you want to get with me,” I said with a sly grin creeping onto my face. “But hey, I’m not one to turn down an invitation. My place is right around the corner.”

  “Keep dreaming, babe,” said Amy. “You don’t have enough meat between your legs for me.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I said. “My labia are pretty floppy.”

  “Oh… kay,” said Lance, putting his hands up. “I’ll leave you two to yourselves.” He turned from us and walked back to his newspaper.

  “I’ll have to see your act,” said Amy, lips upturned, happy. “I’m diggin’ your funny.”

  “Aw,” I said, being warm and joyous inside. “Thanks.” We each took hold of our drinks and took a long pull. Although I had started our meeting nervous, hanging out with Amy Schneider was like getting together with an old friend. She made it comfortable. Even though she had become a mega star in the comedy world, she was just a woman. Just a chick looking to have a little bit of fun and screw around. She was a model for what I could see my life becoming. I was resolved to stay close with her. If she’d have me, of course.

  My life was becoming amazing. It was almost as though I were watching a movie of what I had always
wanted my life to be like. I was being offered more and more — and better — gigs at the various comedy clubs around town, giving me frequent opportunity to phase out my old material and start working in my new stuff. And it should come as no surprise that once I started really being true to myself, telling the kind of jokes that related most to my own life, the laughs came even easier. It was like I was playing life on easy mode. All the conflict I had had in the past, it was just self-created. Isn’t that how it so often is? Things could be so much easier if you just gave in to yourself instead of always trying to fight it.

  That’s what I was discovering.

  My love life had felt like a slog, like a never-ending tug of war, for so long until I realized that I had to give up the bad girl cold turkey and instead give in to the girl that actually liked me. I mean, how stupid could I be? How dense? Of course I needed to make this change. Why did I chase these chicks for so long, these girls that were bad for me? Hell if I know. Probably for the same reason that I insisted on doing my old act on stage for so long. I’m a dumb-dumb.

  I knew that another obstacle I had to get over was telling my agent Oppenheimer that I wasn’t exactly the same Macy Maxwell they had hired on. I asked Amy Schneider about it and she sort of blew me off, telling me something like, “who gives a damn what they think?” But that was easy for her to say. She had a film coming out, a TV show, she was a famous person. It was much easier to walk your own path when you already had the finish line in sight. Maybe not, though. How the hell would I know?

  Petra and I sat down to talk about it all. The closer she and I got — I mean, we were already really close but by closer I mean the more sexually intimate we got — the easier it was to be perfectly frank with her. Even though we’d been great friends before getting involved, I still kept things from her. I kept things from everybody. But as our relationship progressed, I was able to admit more and more to Petra. I even told her I liked having a fingertip in my butt during sex. Nothing wrong with that.

  “So, I mean, as long as your nails are trimmed,” I said, lifting my hand up and crooking a single finger. “And filed, too. I don’t want you scratching around in there.”

  “Just stop,” said Petra, putting up both hands. “I get it. You don’t need to go into graphic detail. I have a bit of experience in that department.”

  “Fine,” I said with a sheepish smile.

  “Can we get back to work?” she said, tapping her pen on her notebook.

  “Right,” I said. “But… what about you?” I asked. “I mean, we’ve been focusing so much on my act I feel like we’re totally ignoring yours.”

  “That’s okay,” said Petra with acceptance on her face. “I’m really happy being the girl behind the girl. When one of my jokes comes out of your mouth and lands, that makes me really happy.”

  “If you’re sure…” I said.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Remind me to treat you to a little bit of the rear finger,” I said, holding up my crooked finger one more time.

  “Stop!” she said, reaching out and wrapping her hand around my finger. The two of us laughed together.

  I loved our back and forth, our joint playfulness. It really inspired a warmth in my heart. And I knew with Petra on my side, I was really going to kill it in Boston. Provided, you know, I could get my agent on my side.

  “Hey,” I said, muting the conviviality. “I’m still a little worried about what the big wigs are going to say about this change. You know, it’s like I got this agent and got this TV show based on one Macy Maxwell, but now I’m becoming a totally different one.”

  “Well, you haven’t even given your agent a call,” said Petra, looking at me like I was being dumb. “Stop delaying the inevitable. Call that girl Meghan and tell her what’s up. We can sort this all out. You’re still funny.”

  “I know,” I whined, looking up to the ceiling and sighing.

  “Look,” said Petra, her face melting from a hardened sarcastic comedian visage to one that was far more tender and true. “No matter what happens,” she began. “I’m super happy that this is happening.”

  “Me too,” I admitted.

  “So whatever,” she said. “We’re getting laughs with this stuff, it’s already working, it’ll work on the TV show too.”

  “Okay,” I said, “I’ll trust that you’re right. I’m just nervous, you know!”

  “Then call!” she said. “Explain yourself!”

  “What?” I said. “Like, right now?”

  “Sure,” said Petra, throwing her hands up. I could tell she was getting a little exasperated by my indecision. “No time like the present. I mean, otherwise you’re gonna continue whining about all this instead addressing it as soon as possible and working from there.”

  “Poo on you,” I mused, leaning over to the coffee table in front of us and reaching out for my phone.

  “Just not on my finger,” she said. Petra moved her hand toward me and pinched my exposed side mid-lean.

  “Gah!” I called out, swatting at her hand. “That tickles!”

  “Come on,” she said, egging me on. “Call right now and if the news is good I’ll finger you until you orgasm without any expectation of reciprocation.”

  “And what if it’s bad news?” I said, lifting a brow.

  “If it’s bad news,” said Petra, thinking about it, sticking her pen in her mouth and considering. “If it’s bad news you’ve got to take off all your clothes and run down the street and back.”

  “No!” I said. “Streak? No way. I’m not going to do that.” Petra just laughed and stuck her tongue out at me.

  “You’re just delaying,” she said. “I know you’re scared of what they’re gonna say, but I’m here for you, everything’s good. Any hey, remember… this isn’t the end all, be all for you. You’ve got a big bank account, Macy, you can start again. You gotta know how good you’ve got it.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I just had to, you know, lose my mother to have this safety net.”

  “I’m not trying to make any kind of offense, Macy,” said Petra leveling with me. “I’m just telling you the reality of your life. You’re gonna be fine. Search your contact list, find your agent, give them a call.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking a deep breath and following Petra’s advice. I searched through my phone for Meghan’s direct line and hovered on it for a moment as I thought. I was pretty lucky. Despite the loss of my Mom, I was lucky to have the money behind me. I was lucky to be able to dedicate my life to something a lot of people probably think is stupid. And I was lucky to have a great friend in Petra. Even all the bad shit that had happened in my life couldn’t compare to the good shit. I was a lucky woman and I had to really internalize that if I wanted to truly be successful.

  “And hey,” said Petra, a wry grin washing over her face. “You should let them know that you have a writing partner now who could, you know, also use an agent.”

  “One thing at a time,” I said, taking a light swing at Petra’s arm. She laughed as she watched me press the call button and lift the phone to my ear.

  After a moment of ringing, I heard a click sound through the phone speaker.

  “Macy!” said Meghan as she answered. “It’s good to hear from you.”

  “Hi Meghan,” I said sheepishly. I was feeling a little bit embarrassed by what I had to say to her. I knew that I shouldn’t worry too much about it, that it was something I had to do, but it was still a difficult thing to do in practice.

  “I was planning on calling you up,” said Meghan. “Did you get my email about the details for Boston?”

  “I did,” I said. “It all looks great.”

  “Perfect!” beamed Meghan. “I’ll get your flight booked and begin coordinating everything for you.”

  “Thank you,” I said with a smile. “I’m so excited about all this.”

  “So what can I do for you?” she said casually. “What’s on your mind.”

  “Well,” I began,
looking over to Petra who was egging me on with her eyes. “I met up with Amy Schneider,” I said. “It was beyond amazing. Thank you so much for setting that up.”

  “You got it,” she said. “You’re in good company here at Oppenheimer.”

  “Amy made me realize some things,” I continued on. “I mean, it’s stuff I’d been realizing anyway.”

  “Okay…” said Meghan skeptically. I could tell that she was uncertain where I was going.

  “So, I’m a lesbian,” I said. “I’m not, like, realizing this for the first time or anything. I’m just stating a fact.”

  “All right, Macy,” said Meghan, her voice still caution. “How can I help with that…?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking,” I went on. “And Amy kinda solidified this for me. I’m thinking I need to switch my act up and stop talking about men. You know, sex with men. Because that’s just not me.”

  “Ah,” said Meghan through that tinny phone speaker. “I see. And you’re worried about what we think, about how the show with Comedy Junction might go, all that. Right?”

  “Right,” I said. “I’ve been changing up my act lately, doing more lesbian jokes, that sort of thing. And I think, for the Funny Thirty, I’m going to do my new act. What do you think Mr. Oppenheimer would think about all this?”

  “Hmm,” mused Meghan. I heard her give a short laugh. “He’d probably make some snide remark about you being a lesbian and how he’d like to watch, something a bit sexist and easy,” she said. “But, that doesn’t mean he’d be against it. Look, as long as you’re funny, as long as you’re good, as long as you can keep the audience entertained, it doesn’t matter what you talk about.”

  “Really?” I said, feeling a sense of excitement move through me. I looked over to Petra, who was smiling, and gave her a thumbs up and a swift nod.

  “Really,” she replied. “This is a meritocracy. You’re funny, you win. You’re not funny, you lose.”

  “Okay,” I said, starting to get it. “Do you think Mark Feinstein will have a problem with this?”

  “I’ll call him up,” said Meghan. “But I doubt he will. If anything, he’ll be pleased to know that they’ve got a little more diversity coming their way.”