Chapter 14
October 2019
They took a livery car to Hollywood, since experience had taught them that driving themselves would be a pain in the ass. The last time they’d done it, it had taken them more than twenty irritating (and anxiety-inducing) minutes to get from the club to their car. This way, they could be picked up within feet of the entrance, with a driver and the Chrome doorman to deflect paparazzi or other celebrity hounds. “You know what’s nice,” Andy said on the way. “I’ve been hanging around this place so long that Tyrone and Terry don’t give a shit about me. They’re like, oh it’s you again? I suppose you want a loveseat up front. I mean,” he added, glancing over at Victor, “most people only give a shit about me because I’m married to you. Mr. Movie Star.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Victor waved that off. Once the new ‘Countdown’
premiered – with his name above the title – maybe he’d start feeling like he actually was a movie star. “Is Jim here tonight?”
“He said so. Maybe we can catch up at the afterparty. Loretta hasn’t had much to say lately.”
“I know. I told her Tanith didn’t hate our script and she sent back a thumbs-up, and that’s basically all I’ve heard.”
“Hope that ex of hers isn’t causing trouble.”
“Me too.” Victor wasn’t sure whether that guy was actually dangerous, or simply a loudmouthed asshole. “And I hope Jim is keeping in touch.”
“Me too.” There were enough people coming to the Cabaret shows in hired cars these days that nobody really noticed them going in. Andy exchanged greetings with the longtime doorman Julio as they passed. On the inside, he took a moment for a fresh look. “I remember what this place looked like when it was still called Level. Did you ever see that?”
“No, what was different?”
“Well, for one thing, Tyrone didn’t have that space.” Andy pointed across the catwalk. “No ground-floor lounge. You came through the door and there was a wall. Went straight downstairs. The upstairs bar, this part where we can see down into the performance space, that all came after he got the ground floor.” They headed downstairs. “They had a removable dance pole
on the stage, instead of out here separate. Jeez, hardly anybody even uses it anymore.”
“Dana’s kind of retired, huh.”
“She was just learning pole when we were roomies. Michelle was doing it, this other chick in the original company did it. Then that chick got a job in Miami, and then Michelle started doing ballroom.”
“It looks kind of wicked here anyway.”
“I’ll bet bachelorette parties still get some use out of it.” Victor laughed.
Andy was grinning. “And bachelor parties, probably. That was that same year,” he realized. “The year we met.”
“Was it really?”
“They had this huge grand re-opening show. That was such a good poster, if I do say so myself. ‘Blue,’ you remember that one?”
Victor definitely did. “You had that one up on your wall on our first night.”
“Yes I did. You liked it. Figures, since Michelle had that fishnet catsuit on. I didn’t know about your fetish then.”
“I didn’t even know I had a fetish till I saw you doing that ‘Chicago’
thing. Damn, I wish I’d seen that on stage.”
I wish you had too. They took their seats. Andy checked out the table talker with the mini poster and the show order. “Sam and Mateo are opening.
Stacey’s closing Act One. The cabaret group is closing the show. Fuck, I don’t want to wait that long to hear you sing.”
“You’ve been hearing me sing,” Victor said, amused. “I’d’ve thought you’d be sick of that song by now.” He lowered his voice, even though the noise level in the club was high enough to cover ordinary speech. “What’s our position for ‘Spy Games?”’
“We’re opening.” Andy shot him a look. “I told Rory about the whole costume thing and she said, well, I guess we’ll need to start you over at the bar, won’t we. And I said, well shit, maybe so.”
“When was this?” Victor was half-laughing. “Because we’ll need to work out how we get you up on the stage.”
“This was, like, yesterday. Okay, so.” Andy looked around; a server was there. They ordered some drinks, and the themed menu items, and then got back down to business. “They have the new spotlight, you know, that swivels
out into the house. So they’ll bring up the light for you on stage, start the music, and then hit me with the spot. We already had the first eight bars for the introductory bullshit.”
“If you’re vamping your ass off by the bar, I’d better keep still on stage.
Don’t want to pull focus.”
“Sweetness.” Andy gave him a quick kiss. “You can smolder up there.
Anyway, I get the cloak off, get to the stage, maybe a couple of the guys give me a hand up so I don’t break an ankle.”
“Oh, as if.” Victor thought no time like the present and said, “I had a thought about footwear.”
“Oh yeah?” Andy turned to give his husband his full attention. They’d danced ‘Mein Herr’ with complete success despite the height difference. But this dance was different; there was a lot of work in closed hold.
“When we’re practicing, it feels fine. I don’t mind that you’re six foot four with those high heels on. And I sure love the way it looks. But when I looked at the video and there’s me five ten, I thought, there are some people who might laugh at that.”
Andy waited. There was one super easy way out, which was to jettison the drag component and dance it as two men. Their normal two-inch height difference was negligible, on stage. They could mask it entirely if he wore flat shoes and Victor wore Cuban heels. He’d do that if Victor was feeling like the fun factor wouldn’t make up for the potential laughter. All the same, he didn’t want to suggest it. “What’s
