Chapter 6
DENVER
The shame I felt in the cemetery carries over into the next day. I will die with the knowledge that I was going to let a man I don’t really know, but am mostly stalking, fuck me in a church cemetery.
Right on top of dead bodies.
If I believed in hell, that’s where I’d be going. In a handbasket, decorated with a huge, fancy bow.
I sigh as I push my way into the back room of the club, lugging a bag half my size along with me.
I just came from teaching two classes back-to-back, so I didn’t have time to go through it, but lugging around a heavy bag is probably a decent cardio workout, and it’s been a while since I’ve gone to the gym.
‘You okay?’ Rene says when he sees me stumbling through the door.
I nod and then shrug, feeling humiliation slither up my spine. I can tell from his expression that he knows the look on my face has nothing to do with what I’m carrying.
‘Fine,’ I manage to sign without dropping anything.
Rene steps toward me and takes my bag from me, one of his eyebrows arched up. Deaf gossip or not, I refuse to tell anyone what happened with Arhe.
I’m so fucking embarrassed. I was left over a grave with my ass out, panties on display, like a fucking chump. Like the dipshit who believed the super-hot guy who is fluent in ASL was actually coming back for me. He probably left me out there as punishment for all the stalking.
I move toward my vanity table when suddenly my eye catches on something unfamiliar.
Something that sticks out like a sore thumb amongst my wigs and makeup.
I peer closer, almost afraid to touch it because something in my chest tells me that it wasn’t just dropped here by accident. This was a deliberate move.
The wilted, dying flowers are a message. My heart speeds up, my body growing warm. What the fuck is this?
Is it some kind of threat?
Rene’s phone flashes, so he sets my bag down and moves to answer his FaceTime, killing part two of my plan, which was to ask him to see if there is a note.
Damn it.
Gathering all my courage, I take a breath and reach out, my trembling hands pinching the ends of the stems. Some of the petals start to flake off, but as I pull the small bouquet into the air, a note flutters to the ground.
Everything in me wants this to be from Arhe.
Every atom in my body needs it to be from anyone else except the psychopathic asshole who followed me into the alley.
And if it’s the same man as before—the one who can’t seem to let go—this isn’t his style.
His style is more like harass me to the point I can’t eat or sleep, and when I’m at my weakest, corner me somewhere no one will be able to find me and put his hands on my throat.
But maybe he’s gotten more clever.
A whine rises in the back of my throat as I bend down and swipe the note off the ground. And it takes another moment of trying and failing to be brave before I glance down at the words. And then my heart races for another reason.
The unsteady cursive belongs to Arhe.
My cheeks flush, and that horrified heat changes to something else. Anger mixed with lust.
I’m furious, still reeling with humiliation from being left in the cemetery—no matter how much I think I might deserve it for being a creep and following him.
But he had me so worked up, and I was so sure he wanted me, and then I’d spent all damn day full of doubt, thinking I was wrong.
Thinking he just wanted to teach me a lesson.
That he wanted to be like all the other assholes from my past who got off on making me feel like shit about myself.
But that’s not what this means. This isn’t just a message. It’s a gift.
I scan the words he scrawled, fingers tracing his harsh, slashing scribble.
Little Rabbit,
I’m coming for you.
A rush of excitement moves through me. He might be coming back for me, but I will not give in easily. This time, I won’t be bending over an old headstone for him. This time, he’s going to have to work for it.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and glance over at Rene, who’s squinting down at the paper in my hands.
‘What that?’ Rene asks.
I crush the note in my fingers and spin on my heels, facing him. ‘Nosy bitch.’
His eyes twinkle. ‘Who’s Rabbit?’
Seeing that sign on his hands, remembering the way Arhe’s lips curved around the sounds as he pinned me to the cold marble and grazed his hands over my panties, makes me hot down to my core. My dick twitches, and I will it down with all the strength I have left.
‘No one,’ I manage to answer.
I sit down and look at the wilted flowers.
He didn’t put them in water because of course he didn’t. It doesn’t take a genius to know where he got these. This isn’t a supermarket or florist bouquet. These were plucked from graves in the very spot where he’d left me.
I understand the message now, even without the note. He didn’t forget me. Whatever prevented him from coming back, it wasn’t for lack of wanting me.
I unscrew the cap of my half-filled water bottle and stick the wilted flowers inside. Maybe there’s a chance they can still be saved. Like my sanity, because no sane person is this turned on over a man like Arhe.
Rene taps me again and lifts his brow, tilting his head to the side before pointing at the makeshift vase. ‘Don’t lie.’
I know he’s not going to let this go, but we have a show, so maybe I can buy myself some time while I figure out what all of this means. ‘Later.’ I jab my finger at the clock on the wall, and he rolls his eyes before stomping away in his five-inch platform heels.
Taking another calming breath, I grab my makeup kit and get started on making my face a canvas. I’ve never been more grateful for a show because this is probably the only thing in my life that could distract me from my current situation.
Drag makeup really is an art, and in this moment—just for now—it’s the only thing that matters.
Staring at myself as I sweep glitter under my brows, I become someone else.
I become her—Glimmer Dear. The other side of me that’s brave and confident and doesn’t give a fuck what other people think.
My face transforms, and it’s like a shield goes up, protecting me from the pain of my past and any pain that might find me in the future.
‘Slay,’ Rene signs as he rushes past me, face half-done.
I grin as I finish up with my setting spray, and then I grab my wig and carefully set it along my hairline.
It blends seamlessly, and I adjust it at my temple before carefully finger-combing out a few tangles.
The face staring back at me is mine, but it’s also hers, and a thrill runs up my spine the way it does every time I look at myself this way.
Rising from the chair, I grab my electric-blue catsuit from the hanger and slip it on.
It fits like a glove, giving me a snatched waist with the built-in corset, and I drag a finger down the dramatic neckline that extends all the way to the top of my navel.
Twisting from side to side, I adjust my top, then tug on my sleeves to make sure there’s enough give for all the exaggerated signs I’ll be using during the show.
Satisfaction sits heavily in my stomach as I slip into my metallic stilettos, then take one more look in the mirror. Does Arhe like me this way? Or was he waiting until I peeled out of my dresses and wig when he was here last?
‘Ready?’ Rene asks after waving a hand in my periphery. He’s fully dressed, looking gorgeous in his flapper dress and wig set in a short, sharp bob at his chin.
I give him a nod. I am. I’m ready to become Glimmer Dear and, once again, stop thinking for the little while I’m onstage, where nothing else matters.
Rene smiles at me, his face soft, and he takes my arm as we make our way onto the stage. The lights are bright, blinding almost, but I blink through it. I wave my hands toward the crowd and feel the music pulsing beneath my feet.
Suddenly, it stops, and the lights dim. We’re getting ready for the main performance. I can almost feel the energy of the crowd. From here, I can make out some of them, smiling faces, waving hands.
And that’s when I see him.
Arhe.
He’s in the back of the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his head cocked as he stares at me. His eyes are so dark, so piercing, almost like they refuse to let any of the light in the room in. And that should terrify me, but god, it doesn’t.
My pulse flutters in my neck when the lights flash brightly and I can no longer make him out. But it doesn’t matter. Drag is for me, but this performance, it’s for him. This is me showing him what he missed out on when he left me in the cemetery, ass out, humiliated.
Here is what he left behind.
I move with purpose, interacting with the crowd, winking at and teasing them. My comedy is gold, my playful, exaggerated gestures a giant fuck-you to Arhe, who better still be here when I’m done.
I want him to feel the sting of what he could have had.
Or what he might still be able to get if he really means the apology he left on my table.
By the final beat beneath my feet, I’m on my knees, my arms wide, Rene doing jazz hands as he spins in a circle, shaking his ass for good measure. I feel the music settle as I hop up and take a bow, and I blow kisses and shoot ILY signs to the audience before exiting the stage.
I couldn’t see Arhe in the bar before I left.
I don’t know if he stayed. My heart’s still pounding from the show as I slip into my seat and quickly grab a makeup wipe to clear away the mess my face has become with all the sweat.
The other queens are also starting to peel away sweaty dresses and wigs, and there’s a quiet air of triumph around the room as we begin to decompress.
‘That was amazing. You champ,’ Rene says as he slips past me. He’s pulling his wig off and shaking his hair out.
‘Same. Same.’ I grab another wipe to finish clearing up my face, and when I blink in the mirror, Denver is back.
There’s always a small pulse of regret when that happens, and not because I regret who I am, but because for years, I never quite fit in, and even with drag, sometimes it’s hard to step into my own shoes, where I’m a little less worthy and a little less wanted.
But there is a man who is here—or was here—who didn’t make me feel that way. I wasn’t Glimmer Dear in the alley when he saved my life. I wasn’t Glimmer Dear in the cemetery as he traced a touch over my panties and breathed heavily against my neck.
But I’m also in no rush to see if anything changed with Arhe. To see if he’s still waiting for me. I’m going to take my time. To go slow. To make him wait for it. I want to teach him a lesson in fucking patience.
‘Why you moving so fast?’ Rene asks.
Damn it.
‘I’m not,’ my hands lie. ‘I’m moving slow. Look-look.’
Rene lets out a laugh and shakes his head. ‘Bitch, please. You meeting someone?’
I huff and turn my gaze back to the mirror, running my fingers through my hair. ‘No. You think that, why?’
‘You look-like…’ His hand waves around my face. ‘Happy, maybe?’
Not what I expected him to say at all.
‘I’m not happy.’ I give an exaggerated frown.
‘True-biz,’ he signs, his whole body full of sarcasm. Then he giggles, running a hand along one of my bare shoulders before moving away.
Rolling my eyes, I turn away and finish cleaning my face, then check my phone for any missed messages.
My heart sinks when I see a rambling story from Rome, but nothing from my mysterious cemetery man, which makes sense, considering he doesn’t have my number, but for some reason, I expected him to have procured it by now.
My stomach feels funny as I twist on my stool and prepare to stand up. My normal routine would have me leaving out the back door, heading to my car, and passing out on my couch the second I got home. But I can’t do that tonight.
Not with Arhe nearby. Not with him having watched the entire show. The gift left on my table meant something, but his presence in the crowd tonight meant more. I probably should look out into the bar to see if he’s waiting there, but instinct tells me that I need to go where it all started.
To the same place where I was choked. To where Arhe flipped my entire world upside down.
Walking to the side door, I glance behind me to make sure no one’s watching, and then I stick my head out into the alley, and my breath catches in my chest.
There’s a man leaning against a damp wall, a hood pulled over his head, mist curling around his boots.
But I know it’s not the asshole following me.
It’s Arhe. I can feel his presence like somehow our souls are connected.
I feel like I would recognize him with my CIs off and in the pitch-black, by simple touch and scent alone.
I must make some kind of noise because his head lifts. And while I can’t see all of his face, the light catches on his full lips set in the smallest smirk, the tip of his nose, and it glints off his eyes, which are locked on mine.
He pushes off the wall, his toes digging into the pavement before his feet go flat, and I hold my breath, watching as he stalks toward me. He’s a predator who has chosen his prey.
But this time, I can’t just let him have me.
He left me vulnerable and exposed, and I need him to know that I’m not some weak, pathetic creature who will roll over for anyone who wants it. No. It doesn’t matter that he got me apology flowers. It doesn’t matter that he’s here. It doesn’t matter that he saved my life.
Tonight, he will also know he has to work hard to keep me.
I push the door open a little wider, and he stops before it, like a vampire waiting for an invitation.
‘Come,’ I sign with a flick of my finger and wrist.
He pulls his hood off, and I reach down and grab onto his hand. It’s cold from standing outside and so strong. The edges of his fingers are calloused, but the rest of his palm is soft as it presses against mine.
I bask in his touch for only a second before dragging him behind a large folding partition and toward a supply closet that holds cleaning supplies. We can have a private conversation here, far away from the keen Deaf eyes of my friends, and from memories of unwanted hands around my neck.
‘Not here,’ I tell him.
He bites his lip and looks at me with an expression that reminds me that he’s more than he seems. He’s dangerous and probably doesn’t like being bossed around. But after a short forever, he leans in, nods, then grazes his lips over my jaw.
‘Show me where,’ he signs between us.
I point behind us at the door. ‘We can be alone in there.’ It’s not ideal, but it’s something.
His eyes move up and down the door, then left to right, and then he meets my gaze and gives a firm nod. ‘This is good,’ he signs. ‘I want you all to myself.’