Matt followed Evan’s gaze towards the middle of the dance pit. Sure enough, there was Pineapple Paul! He was dancing with the guy who looked like Adam! Matt was jealous.
“At least one of my pupils gets a gold sticker,” William groused. “The best I can say for you—” he addressed Matt “—is that at least you’re a happy drunk.”
“What did you mean when you said I’d be ‘up there’ with that Bella person?”
“Onstage, dahling, assuming we can get you sobered up a little.”
Matt blanched. He did not like being on stage.
William addressed Evan. “Thanks for looking out for Matthew. Will you ask Jake to watch Paul? I’ll keep this one in Timeout until after Bella’s show. You and Luke can enjoy the rest of the evening.”
Evan patted Matt’s back encouragingly, then left.
“What did I do that was so wrong?” Matt asked William.
William pushed more water Matt’s way. “Let’s see. Things Matthew did wrong. Matthew drank too much. Matthew started a third dance with the same guy. Matthew was a minute—two minutes max—away from leaving to fuck that guy.”
“I thought that was the point of the evening?” Matt said. “Finding fuck buddies.”
“Not before midnight!” William was horrified. “If you’d left with that guy at, what, 10:30, your reputation would be in shatters! Slutty is one thing. That’s what we do. Being an Easy slut? Well, dahling, there’s no recovering from that!”
***
Matt clapped politely when Bella Bottoms came onstage, but, honestly, all he wanted was to drain his bladder and then drain his balls. He’d needed to pee for the last hour. He’d needed to fuck for the last five weeks. Both needs were causing him physical discomfort.
It was 10:00p.m. Dancing was paused ’til 11:00. The announcer welcomed Bella back to Oklahoma City for this limited engagement. The crowd roared.
Not Matt. He didn’t understand drag, and, while he’d previously been aroused by Todd and the fishnet stockings and garter belt, he’d be fine if he never saw a guy in women’s attire again. He just wanted to pee, get his buzz back, pick Mr. Right-Now and maybe Mr. Right-After, and get down to sucking and fucking.
Bella Bottoms was an eye full. She was at least 6’5″ in her bare feet. Add 3-inch heels and a towering updo of a wig with French twist and curls, and she probably had to stoop to get through a doorway.
Bella’s wig and heels were hearse black. Her blood-red dress dripped down her frame and pooled at her ankles. The skirt had a gaping slit for one leg.
Bella took the microphone off its stand and waited for the applause to die down. Beside her was a small table with a bottle of vodka, a blue Dixie cup, and a tube of lipstick. Behind her sat a guy at an electric keyboard.
Oh yeah, there were also five empty chairs on the stage. Arranged side-by-side like all they needed was contestants to fill them. Matt had not forgotten William’s earlier statement that he would be up on stage with Bella. It didn’t take a clairvoyant to see where this was headed.
“Where’s the restroom?” Matt stood. He wasn’t a kid. Wasn’t asking permission. He was going to the restroom like the adult that he was—where, after peeing, he would hide in a stall if he had to, until this Bella business was over.
William shook his head. “The restrooms are in the hall, which means you can’t get back in here without proper i.d. And you’re underage—as you know, dahling.”
“So, go with me, mommy,” Matt said. “Wave your pixie dust or whatever you did to get me in here in the first place. To get me liquored up—even though I’m underage.”
William shrugged. “I’m fresh out of pixie dust. Sit down and enjoy the show.”
Matt grudgingly resumed his seat. What choice did he have?
Bella walked to the front edge of the stage, looked down into the dance pit, and singled out one of the guys.
“Hey, you! In the faux-leather jacket. Yes, you, biker guy. I think I’m packing a bit to the left. What do you think?”
The guy peered up at her.
Bella stepped back theatrically, crossed her legs. “Not my crotch! Pervert! Don’t look up my dress!”
She cupped her large hands over her even larger breasts. “These, sweetie! I know you’re gay but look up here. Is my left boob hanging lower?”
Everyone laughed. Even Matt.
Bella milked the laugh by shifting her fake boobs up and down, trying to get them aligned. Asked biker guy if she had it right yet. Commented on the absurdity of asking a gay guy if something was straight.
More laughter.
No matter what she did, the left boob sagged, which was obviously part of the gag.
“Anybody have any duct tape?” she asked.
“Of course not!” She rolled her eyes. “What kind of idiot asks a roomful of fags for duct tape! Condoms and lube? Buckets full. But duct tape? Where’s the dyke bar?”
Bella poured herself a finger of vodka, tossed it back, then paced the stage, peering into the crowd. “Any first-timers here tonight?” she asked.
Matt felt his stomach knot with anxiety. He did not like this game.
Several hands shot into the air, straining for Bella’s favor. Paul was one of them, standing near the front of the pit, waving his arms like a teacher’s pet. As if he wouldn’t be picked. As if this weren’t just another scene in William’s screenplay.
Matt glared across the table at William, who sat there sipping his bourbon. His face was the picture of innocence.
Bella picked Paul and three other guys, told them to come up on the stage and sit in the chairs like good boys while she shopped for another one. She had to fill that fifth chair. She mused that the ensemble was lacking something. The four seated first-timers included one guy with black hair and three variations of brunette. She needed a blonde to balance things out!
Matt felt the noose tightening. The small blonde hairs on the back of his neck tingled.
Bella rejected the rest of the volunteers. They weren’t blondes, or, in one guy’s case, she quipped that he had claimed to be a first-timer the last three times she’d been to the Copa. She remembered his face. She’d fucked him by the dumpsters.
Bella studied the crowd, searching for a blonde. “Can I get a spotlight on the tables? I think I see one over there!”
The spotlight swiveled in Matt’s direction. He knew it was stalking him.
“I hate you right now,” he whispered to William.
“Say ‘hi’ to Bella for me, dahling.” William smirked.
Matt reached out quickly, snatched William’s drink and downed it in one gulp. The bourbon burned his throat, but he didn’t care. If he had to be on that stage, he needed his buzz back.
“What’s your name, handsome?” Bella asked Matt a minute later as he blinked in the harsh stage lights.
Matt mumbled his name.
“Mark-Paul Gosselaar!” Bella pretended that was the name Matt had given. “That’s a mouthful of a name, honey. And I’ve had some big things in this mouth!”
Laughter.
“I’m gonna call you ‘Zack,'” she said. “That was your character on Saved by the Bell, right? Oh, I loved that show, but that Vegas Wedding movie was a dud!”
Laughter.
Matt blushed, eyed the empty chair longingly.
Mercifully, Bella let Matt join the four other contestants.
Bella teased and flirted with all five guys. Nicknamed each of them. Paul was “Magnum” because, in his Hawaiian shirt, he supposedly looked like Tom Selleck.