Rock Chick

Chapter Thirteen Pandemonium at the Gay Bar

We went to Tex’s house, he changed clothes and we fed his gazillion cats and cleaned out five litter trays. It wasn’t the most pleasant job I’d ever done in my life but the kitties were appreciative. Tex made us stay long enough to give them cuddles, dangle feathers and jiggle laser lights because, according to Tex, it was important to keep their minds and bodies active.

Luckily, there were no stockpiles of firearms and explosives on display.

When we started to leave, Tex followed.

Hank stopped and turned.

“Where are you goin’?” he asked Tex.

“With you,” Tex answered.

“I don’t think so,” Hank replied.

“You think you can protect Little Miss Calamity here all by yourself?” Tex scoffed, jerking a thumb at me.

Er, excuse me? Little Miss Calamity?

“You have your arm in a sling,” Hank returned.

“Listen man, I been on this block for twenty years without leavin’ except to go to the fuckin’ dentist when I had a toothache in 1998. I got off it last night and for the first time in years, I feel free.”

Hank considered this.

Hank was a tough guy but he’d always been somewhat of a soft touch. The only fights he ever got into where when people were teasing the unpopular kids at school or saying shit about girls that he knew wasn’t true (these girls were usually Ally and me). When he was a kid, he used to bring home the lame dogs and damaged birds. I always thought that Hank got into the cop business far less to serve than to protect.

“Lee owes me big time for this,” he repeated, giving in.

We walked down to Kumar’s and stocked up on junk food and got the makings for a late lunch. Then we went to the station and gave our statements about the happenings on to The Kevster’s pot farm. Then we went to my house.

Stevie and Tod were in the front yard mowing, weeding and pruning. Kitty Sue was taking in the sun on my front porch in my old, weathered butterfly chair that once had a bright-turquoise canvass seat that was now a bluish-gray. Marianne Meyer was sitting on my front step playing with a baby and Andrea was chasing after a toddler who was streaking across my side of the lawn while two more of her kids were rolling around in the grass looking like they were trying to kill each other.

Hank parked across the street from my duplex and we all walked up to the house. Everyone stared at Tex, for, even without the night vision goggles, he was a sight to see.

Then Marianne’s attention focused on me.

“Well?” Marianne asked.

“Well, what?” I retorted.

Marianne threw up her hands. “Does Lee have the bow off your panties?”

Grr.

Tod and Stevie came up, saving me from having to answer.

“Kitty Sue told us you were kidnapped last night,” Stevie noted with concern.

“Again,” Tod put in.

Before I could say anything, Kitty Sue called from her chair, “Why didn’t you tell me Tod was performing tonight? You know I like to see Burgundy do her thang.”

“What’s this about panties?” Tex broke in.

“Do you think we could turn the hose on the kids? It’s so hot and they’d love it,” Andrea shouted from across the lawn, struggling to get a pair of shorts on the streaker.

“Oh, by the way,” Kitty Sue said, getting up from the butterfly chair, “we’ve decided to go out for pizza before Tod’s show, all of us. Won’t that be fun?”

Everyone was staring at me and I was at a momentary loss. Okay, it wasn’t as if I’d lived an uneventful life. My life was pretty active and kind of exciting but all of it had been controlled. This was out of hand.

Ally, as she had many a time, saved my bacon.

“Marianne, it’s none of your business so quit asking and go get yourself laid, for God’s sake. Hank, get the hose and turn it on those monsters before they tear up the yard. Tex, go upstairs and lay down for awhile. Mom, help me make everyone a sandwich.” Then she shoved forward, taking our shopping bags, opened my house with her key and went in.

“I love your sister,” I said to Hank.

He threw his arm around my shoulders, pulled me into his body and gave me a sideways hug.

Tod and Stevie had gone back to yard work and I felt the guilt pull. Their side of the lawn was lush, green and manicured, the edges that butted our brick walkways were cut precisely. Colorful flowers grew healthy along the front, black wrought iron fence, down the wooden fence at the side and in the beds in front of their porch. They had a basket on the porch overhang that happily dripped fuchsias and terracotta pots on each step of the stoop trailing ivy and bursting with flowers.

My side of the lawn was also mowed and had clean and cut borders but only because Stevie did it. I’d planted flowers in my flower beds but they were being choked by weeds, had not been watered in days, looked dry and close to death. The fuchsia basket that Tod bought me to balance the look of the duplex was bedraggled and only in slightly better shape than the flower beds because it didn’t have weeds attacking it.

Their side looked like Martha Stewart. My side looked like Sanford and Son.

I needed to help with the yard work. It was my neighborly duty.

I went into the house and up to my bedroom. I was running out of clothes at Lee’s place so I dumped the contents of my ever-ready, rarely-used workout bag and shoved items in just in case my stay there lasted longer. I took off my clothes, slathered myself with factor 8, put on a pair of cutoff jeans shorts and a kelly green camisole with a shelf bra. I gathered my hair in a messy knot on top of my head, grabbed my phone and called Lee.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“How’s it going?”

“Not good.”

He didn’t sound happy.

Yikes.

“If you get finished in time, we’re going out for pizza before Tod’s show tonight.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Your Mom says ‘all of us’ so I’m guessing that means Marianne Meyer, Andrea Moran and her kids, probably Ally and Hank, likely Dad and Malcolm and select players from the Colorado Rockies,” I paused, “oh, and Tex.”

“Marianne Meyer and Andrea Moran?”

“They’re on a Lee and Indy Sex Watch.”

“Come again?”

“They want to know when we’ve done it.”

Silence.

I went on. “If we don’t do it soon, they might force us to at gunpoint.”

“Christ.”

“I know. No pressure though. I told them we’re taking it slow.”

“You have to report in?”

“I kind of feel obliged.”

“How’s that?”

I didn’t want to tell him I’d recruited them both for Lee Maneuvers in the past, so I said, “Never mind.”

“If something doesn’t happen soon, it’s gonna be bad. I can’t keep focused, all I can think of is what’s on your Victoria’s Secret credit statement.”

“You need to keep focused,” I told him, “bad guys are after me.”

“Tell me about it.”

He hung up and I went into the other bedroom. Tex was lying on the couch, a sandwich on a plate and an open bag of chips both balanced on his sling, my remote in his hand, the TV on and a ball game was blaring.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Peachy,” he flipped through channels, acting for all the world as if he was a regular houseguest.

I got a sandwich from Ally and Kitty Sue, ate it standing up and then went outside. Hank was alternately hosing down Andrea’s monsters and watering my fuchsia and lawn. I hunkered down to weed my front flower bed, got into it about three feet and decided to take a break.

I laid down on my back in the grass and fell into an impromptu Disco Nap. What could I say? Yard work did that to me.

Something soft trailed down my temple and across my cheek. I opened my eyes and saw Lee crouched beside me, blocking the sun.

“I don’t like yard work,” I told him.

“My condo doesn’t have a yard,” he replied.

Hmm.

I sat up. He grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet. Someone (probably Kitty Sue and Marianne) had weeded the side and front beds, the one I was working on was still only half done. The yard was quiet. I took in a happy breath at the sweet bliss of aloneness.

“Don’t get too excited, we have an audience watching us from three different windows,” Lee told me.

Lee was close, looking down into my face, forcing me to tilt my head to look up at him. He always looked handsome but now I could see the tiredness around his eyes and mouth. It occurred to me he’d been at this for days, non-stop. I’d been lucky enough to squeeze in a couple of Disco Naps.

“How did hunting go today?” I asked.

“I’m used to better results.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It isn’t.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t think he’s gone to ground, one of my contacts would know something. That means he’s either skipped town, which is unlikely, or he’s dead.”

I sucked in breath.

“Is dead an option?”

“He has some enemies, starting with Coxy,” Lee answered.

“You wanna explain that to me?”

“Not now, it’s nearly pizza time and I need to go home and shower.”

“Do you want to shower here?” I tried to ignore the thrill the thought of a naked Lee in my shower gave me and pretend it didn’t affect me.

“I want to shower with you, are you comin’ with me?”

Okay, I couldn’t pretend he didn’t affect me, he seriously affected me.

I looked back at the house and saw faces swiftly disappear from the windows. “I don’t think I should, I have company.”

He grabbed me and kissed me, hard and quick and also disappointingly fast.

“Wear sexy panties tonight,” he said against my mouth.

“I don’t have any other options except commando.”

Lee’s arm tightened spasmodically.

“Christ.”

Lee met us at the Beau Jo’s.

Beau Jo’s offered huge, thick-crusted “mountain pies” that were the best pizza I’d ever had outside the times Dad and I visited Aunt Sunny in Chicago. Mountain pie crust was so thick, you saved the edges, smothered them with honey and ate them for dessert.

Our table seemed a mile long and it was mayhem. As if Andrea’s children weren’t enough to make us loud and obnoxious to all other customers, Duke and Dolores joined us as did Dad and Malcolm. Duke, Tex, Dad and Malcolm seemed to be in a contest to out-booming-macho-male talk each other.

Lee slid into the seat beside me, his hair still wet from the shower and curling around his neck and ears. He was wearing a pair of beat up, faded, army-green cargo pants and a light-blue, loose-fitting collared shirt, untucked, the right-amount of buttons left undone and the sleeves rolled partially up his forearms.

He looked hot.

For no apparent reason, before Lee fully settled into his seat, Andrea’s baby let out a high-pitched scream. I liked kids, of course, other people’s kids. In small doses. Very small doses.

Once Andrea had cooed it to semi-quietness, I turned to Lee.

“Do you want children?”

His eyes slid to me as he grabbed a menu.

He answered cautiously, “Yeah.”

“How many?”

He turned to me and his arm went around the back of my chair.

“Three.”

I thought about three children. They weren’t pleasant thoughts.

“And you?” Lee asked, gently tugging my hair.

“Hmm?”

“Kids?”

“I can’t even take care of my yard,” I reminded him.

He smiled The Smile and I immediately decided I’d like three kids a whole lot.

“How are things?” Dad asked Lee.

Lee glanced at Dad, took his arm from my chair then studied the menu.

“Depends. Some are great, some not so good.”

Dad nodded, apparently happy with that answer or at least understanding it. I sat there thinking a lot more was said than what was actually said. Men had a mysterious way of communicating.

We ate, we chased after children who wanted to visit other diners’ tables, we talked, we laughed and after awhile, I began to relax. Life had been so weird lately, I didn’t even realize how tense it was making me. I didn’t realize how much I needed a night like tonight.

I poured honey on my crust and watched Tex who seemed not like a man who had barricaded himself on his block for two decades but like someone relaxed and who fit in with my family and friends.

Then again, you bought yourself some serious loyalty by saving a daughter/sister/girlfriend from being held hostage and getting shot for your troubles.

I ate my honeyed crust and my eyes moved to Lee who was listening to Dolores. His thigh was pressed against mine under the table and twice he had handed me the honey without me having to ask for it. The Savages and the Nightingales had been to Beau Jo’s dozens of times either in Denver for whatever occasion or Idaho Springs after a day of skiing.

Lee knew when I wanted the honey.

Yikes.

How did this happen?

There was no denying we were actually together, not test driving it. We’d blown right passed the “getting to know you” phase of the relationship because we didn’t need it. We were smack dab into the comfortable part of a relationship, the part that held shared intimacy because of history.

Even so, we still had the thrill of the newness about our situation, discovering hidden things about each other like him having a housekeeper, keeping good java in the kitchen, being incredibly moody, kissing really, really well and having a naked body that was a gift from the gods.

At these thoughts, inexplicably, panic overwhelmed me.

Sensing it because he was a freak of nature, Lee’s head immediately turned to me.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

Self-preservation kicked in over the panic and I lied.

“Nothing.”

He turned fully to me and his arm went around the back of my chair again, his other forearm resting on the table, fencing me in.

“What’s the matter?” he repeated.

“Nothing!”

He watched me for a couple of beats and then he said calmly, “We’re gonna have to work at kickin’ your lying habit.”

“I’m not lying,” I lied.

He leaned in. “What we have here is good and if you’d get over your thoughts that it isn’t gonna last, you’d realize how much better it’s gonna get if you’d just relax.”

See! He totally knows me. It was beginning to be scary.

Since lying wasn’t going to work, I changed strategies and went for annoyance.

“Get out of my brain, it’s pissing me off,” I warned him.

Then I learned (or more to the point realized) something new about Lee. Something he’d been showing me for days.

Lee didn’t play games and he didn’t like me doing it either. Perhaps surviving life-threatening situations and living a life filled with danger made you more honest and less apt to waste precious time.

“What kind of underwear are you wearing?” he asked.

“What? Why?”

“Because if you describe it to me, I might decide you’re worth the trouble.”

It was best to cut my losses so I crossed my arms on my chest and glared at him.

He turned away, completely unperturbed.

I caught sight of Dad who was sitting down the table from us. There was no way he could have heard what we were saying because Lee had his back to him and spoke low. Still, Dad was shaking his head.

“What?” I snapped at my father.

“Jesus, it’s uncanny. You’re just like your mother.”

Everyone disbursed to get ready for Burgundy Rose’s show, Ally taking responsibility for Tex, Lee taking me home in his Crossfire.

I’d showered before Beau Jo’s but hadn’t prettied myself up because most of my makeup was at Lee’s. We walked up to the bedroom so I could change and Lee saw the bag.

“What’s this?”

I didn’t want to admit what it was and what it meant that I packed it. Since Lee saw through most of my lies, or was cocky enough to zip it open and see for himself, I came clean.

“I was running out of stuff at your place so I packed more provisions.”

His eyes crinkled their approval, his arm snaked out and pulled me to him. His mouth went to the skin below my ear.

“You done pretending to be mad at me to hide bein’ scared?” he murmured.

My whole body stiffened.

“Don’t be a jerk.”

His head lifted and he looked me in the eye.

“You’re right. That was an asshole remark.”

Holy shit.

What did you say to that?

“I’m tired, it’s been a long day,” he continued, his hand coming up to pinch his nose between his eyes.

“That’s all right,” I said. “And no, I’m not mad at you or pretending to be mad. But I need to put makeup on and all my good stuff is at your condo so I have to visit Chez Burgundy.”

I had put my Lynyrd Skynyrd outfit back on for Beau Jo’s. I changed my top to a thin, black, silky, partially-beaded, spaghetti-strapped affair that was in the Sushi Den section of my closet. This necessitated no bra and since Lee seemed quite happy laying back on my bed with his arms crossed behind his head, watching me change (and I would have felt like a naïve fool locking myself in the bathroom), I had to pull a Jennifer-Beals-Flashdance move and take the bra off after I put the top on. I kept the jeans, but exchanged the belt for the one with rhinestones and the boots for high-heeled sandals with jet beads sewn across the front strap. I added about two dozen shiny black bangles on my wrist and some dangly earrings.

When I was done, I turned to the bed. I thought Lee was watching me, but he was asleep.

I sat next to his hip and the minute he felt my weight on the bed, his eyes opened.

“Why don’t you rest?” I asked. “We’ll come back after the show.”

His hand came from behind his head and his finger traced the silky strap at my shoulder.

“I’m not lettin’ you out of my sight.”

My breath had started coming faster when he touched me.

“It’ll be okay. Everyone’ll be there.”

His eyes locked on mine and I read that nothing more could be said, Lee had made up his mind.

His finger hooked in the strap and tugged it toward him. Either I could resist and risk the fragile strap breaking or I could acquiesce. I liked the top so I leaned into him.

His arms circled me and I rested my hands on his chest.

“How long is this gonna last tonight?” he asked.

I thought about it.

“It should be over around one or two. I’m on drag duty so I have to stay until the bitter end.”

His eyes had become melty-chocolate but now they hardened with impatience.

“I’m never gonna do anything but sleep with you in my bed, am I?”

God, I hoped that wasn’t true. That would suck. Now that I was kind of coming to terms with our togetherness, I was looking forward to certain things we hadn’t gotten around to doing, like the exchange of bodily fluids.

I opened my mouth to speak but the melty-chocolate had come back into his eyes.

“You don’t have to answer, your face said it all.”

Great.

We went out the back and through the adjoining gate to Tod and Stevie’s. I knocked at their backdoor and put my head in.

“Yoo hoo!” I called.

Stevie yelled from the bowels of the house for us to come in and we entered the kitchen. Chowleena came clicking through and she butted my legs with her head, then she stepped back and barked twice at Lee, her front paws coming up with each exertion. When she was done with her warning, she butted his legs too.

“She likes you,” I told Lee. He bent over to scratch Chowleena’s ears and I called, “I’ve got Lee with me.”

Stevie appeared in the doorway and blatantly and thoroughly looked Lee over.

Then, he smiled his approval at me.

“I’m Stevie,” he said, his eyes moving back to Lee and he came into the room.

“Lee.”

They shook hands then Stevie gave me a kiss on the cheek.

Chowleena barked again and then clicked out of the room, her bottom swaying pertly, full of attitude.

We followed.

The living room-cum-dining room was closed up tight from any looky-loos. The Burgundy Rose transformation was firmly hidden behind drawn curtains and a closed front door. The dining area looked like the backstage of a New York fashion show had exploded in it. There was makeup scattered across the dining room table, two lighted mirrors and three foam heads with wigs on them. Formal dresses in every color and fabric were strewn across the backs of chairs, sequins sparkled and feathers swayed slightly in the breeze of the ceiling fan. Shoes were lying around everywhere.

Tod was in semi-drag. He was sitting in a robe, panty-hose on and I could tell he had his girl figure already sorted under the robe. His hair was in a skull cap ready for a wig, his base makeup was heavy and his eyes were mostly done. He had the spidery shape of a false eyelash dangling from his fingers and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He narrowed his eyes through the smoke at Lee.

“No one and I mean no one but Indy’s Hunk of Burning Love would be allowed to see me this way. You talk, you die.”

It was an empty threat and everyone knew it. Firstly, who was Lee going to tell? Secondly, Lee could kick anyone’s ass.

“Anyone want a drink?” Stevie, ever the good host, said into the void.

“I need makeup, my stuff is at Lee’s,” I told Tod.

Tod extracted his smoke from his mouth and gestured to the dining room table.

“What’s mine is yours.”

It took nearly an hour to get Burgundy to BJ’s Carousel. She was not only performing but MC-ing so she had several dress changes. Stevie and I carefully slid the dresses that Tod indicated into garment bags. We schlepped them, three wigs, six boxes of shoes, a Louis Vuitton tote-bag of emergency provisions (extra hose in case of runs, packets of cigarettes, lighters, smaller bags filled with bracelets, earrings, necklaces and other accessories, fingernail polish remover, etc.) and Tod’s enormous, steel-encased MAC tackle box filled with cosmetics into the CR-V.

Lee and I followed Tod and Stevie to BJ’s in the Crossfire. The bar was on Broadway, about a mile or so south of my store, just past the I-25 overpass. It was a small, dive bar but you couldn’t tell because it was dark and the Diva Queens on the tiny stage could make it come alive.

We went in the back way, all of us loaded down with Burgundy’s stuff and entered the small area set aside as a dressing room. It was so smoky you could barely see and it was chock full of drag queens, their partners, fag hags and other hangers on. The minute we walked in, everyone, man, woman or queen, turned and stared at Lee.

“Sweet Jesus,” a Shania Twain look-alike standing three feet away breathed, her hungry eyes riveted on Lee.

Burgundy forged ahead announcing, “He’s straight, he’s taken and if he turns, I have first dibs.”

Stevie dumped his load and Lee handed him the garment bag he was holding, then turned to me. “I’ll get you a drink.”

“Good idea. You don’t leave, they’ll jump and tear your clothes off.”

Lee winced. “That’s a pleasant thought.”

“Don’t think I’m kidding,” I told him. “If you wouldn’t mind getting me a…” I started to give him my drink order but he interrupted.

“I know what you drink, Indy.”

Panic overwhelmed me again, fast and fierce.

Lee smiled, it was The Smile except magnified, warm and intimate. All air was sucked out of the room as surreptitious watching turned obvious when people saw The Smile. My reaction included both a quivering in the nether regions and a swelling of the breasts.

Lee’s arm slid around me and his lips found mine for a quick kiss.

“Don’t look so scared, I’m not gonna eat you,” he murmured and then his hand slid down my ass and pressed my hips against his in a promise that belied his words.

Holy shit, shit, shit.

He left and half of our audience were fanning themselves, the other half adjusting their trousers.

Stevie and I got Burgundy sorted. By the time I made it into the bar, it was a crush. The Savage/Nightingale contingent found a table front and center. Everyone was crammed into it, Andrea had forked her children off on a babysitter and forced her husband to come and he looked about as comfortable as a Republican at a Rainbow Gathering. For Tex, on the other hand, this was another day at the office. He sat relaxed, his feet on a chair that likely could be used to rest someone’s ass but no one would have had the balls to ask for it.

Two other seats were empty, one for Stevie, one for me, drinks in front of both.

Lee wasn’t at the table, he and Hank both had their backs against the wall by the entrance, both holding a beer bottle by its neck, their arms crossed on their chest, effortlessly and unconsciously exuding aggressive heterosexuality. Even in the crammed bar, they were given a wide berth.

The show started late and Burgundy came out giving some lip to someone who’d been imbibing too much, was getting impatient and yelled his thoughts about it.

Take my advice, never heckle a drag queen. They’ll make mincemeat out of you.

The show was great, the drinks kept coming and I’d scoot out when Stevie and I got the high sign it was time for a costume change. Backstage, we’d struggle Burgundy and her foam rubber hips out of one heavy, sequined extravaganza and into another and we’d return to the table. Our group was generous with tips during the performances, handing the queen a dollar for an air kiss on the cheek and we quickly became a favorite, and thus the focus of all the divas.

It was going well, I was relaxed, happy, enjoying myself and I was remembering a life that was fun and exciting without bullets flying. I was well into my fifth spiced rum and diet when Burgundy took the stage and made a surprise announcement.

“Many of you know her and love her and now we’re gonna get her up here to show you what’s she’s got. Get your tips ready, ladies and tramps, we’re breaking tradition and bringing a real woman on the stage. Give it up for India Savage!”

Um, what?

Holy shit.

Holy shit, shit, shit.

That’s when I heard it, the piano and strings starting Barbra Streisand and Donna Summer’s “No More Tears.” I’d sung it a gazillion times with Tod in Stevie and Tod’s living room after over-imbibing chilled sparkling wine and a marathon of Yahtzee.

Never in front of an audience.

Never.

Ally pulled me out of my chair, Marianne, Dolores and Andrea pushed me to the stage, which was tragically too close and Stevie shoved a dead microphone into my hand. Burgundy had already done her Barbra hum, I had no choice but to lip sync my Donna “ooo”.

Then I was on the stage, doing the slow introduction, singing about what lacked in Donna’s romantic life and trying to play off Burgundy, trying to look her in the eyes like I felt the words deep into my very soul.

Problem was, I was stiff as a board and the disco bit was coming up.

Lee was watching. The last thing I wanted to do was dance around on stage in front of a hundred people, one of them Liam Nightingale, lip syncing badly to fucking disco.

I had to pull it together, this was for charity. I had no idea what charity but what did it matter? I’d look more of a fool if I didn’t loosen up, and fast.

There was nothing for it.

We sang eye-to-eye while Barbra and Donna harmonized. Burgundy shot me a “for God’s sake, pull yourself together” look and I shrugged my shy discomfort.

Burgundy gave it her all on Barbra’s long note, closing her eyes with feeling and holding her hand to her throat. I stayed stiff on purpose, pretending to be uncomfortable and wanting to be anywhere but there.

When the disco hit, my “ahs” came on and I shuffled with discomfort, keeping up the sham.

Then the horns kicked in and I pulled out all the stops, strutting, shaking my hips and stomping across the tiny stage like a white, pissed off Tina Turner, throwing attitude that would do Chowleena proud.

The crowd went wild and jumped to their feet. It helped that front and center were all my friends and family, not to mention it was well into the show and most everyone was shitfaced. They lifted their arms, fingers pointed towards us, wrists snapping and bodies bouncing to the beat.

I used Donna’s lyrics to lecture the audience then Burgundy and I got nose-to-nose screaming at each other, shaking our hair in tandem with the angry words and the crowd began chanting the chorus.

It was Barbra’s song, Donna was only dessert so I worked the crowd, leaning double at the waist, my hand at my hip and got in the faces of the people who dared to approach me with dollar bills, snatching notes out of their hands like the tip was my God given right. I scrunched up my face with mock-pissed-offedness and didn’t give a single kiss. I even went so far as placing the sole of my sandal into a butch biker’s chest and sending him careening backwards giggling himself silly.

The crowd ate it up, shouting, cheering and sending up deafening whistles and cat calls.

It was beautiful and the biggest fucking happy rush I’d had in my life.

It was when the disco slowed to the funky bit that was a wind up to when Barbra gets so pissed off her voice goes husky that I saw Pepper Rick standing across the room, pointing a gun at me.

I froze.

Then, without my brain telling my body to do it, I whirled and threw myself in a body tackle, bringing Burgundy down. Both of our tip money and microphones flew out of our hands and Burgundy shouted a very male, “What the fuck?”

The crowd began to cheer, thinking it was part of the show but the cheer turned to screams and shouts when gunfire rang out.

“Crawl,” I hissed to Tod, “stay low and crawl the fuck out of here.”

We almost started to crawl as more gunfire rang through the bar, then I jumped back on Tod, covering him with my body. Once the sound of the guns cleared, I could hear Dad and Malcolm shouting orders to people trying to keep calm and stop a stampede.

We started crawling again, all I could see was Tod’s sequined ass. I heard heavy footfalls on the stage and, all of a sudden, I was lifted up. I let out an half-enraged, half-startled scream and tried to twist away but I no sooner got a look at who had me when I was thrown, like a human discus, off the stage.

I flew through the air and hit Lee with a grunt, both his and mine, and his arms came around me as he staggered back a step to brace himself. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Tex, who had made it to the stage, and me, before Lee. Tex executed the stage dive to end all stage dives, his bulky weight toppling the unfortunate and unprepared people who’d been in his way.

I didn’t get a chance to process this because Lee lifted me up by the waist and carried me to the door, moving anyone out of our way by either shoving them, punching them or just plain old body slamming them with his shoulder.

I saw Hank in front of us with Ally in a similar hold just as Malcolm pushed Kitty Sue out the door.

Lee dragged me to Ally’s car, a newish, convertible Ford Mustang. Hank was shoving Ally in the driver’s seat. Lee shoved me in the passenger side.

“Indy!” Dad shouted from somewhere.

“Here. Safe,” Lee shouted back.

My eyes found Dad and I noticed he lifted his index finger and snapped it smartly at Lee in a “you the man” gesture. He got in with Malcolm and Kitty Sue as Lee started talking to me.

“Stay here, lock your doors, stay down and out of sight.”

I turned to him.

“Tod, Stevie, Tex. Ohmigod, Andrea’s a mother!”

But he wasn’t listening, he slammed the door and ran back to BJ’s.

“And now you,” I whispered, watching him go.

Ally’s hand took mine.

“He’ll be okay,” she said. “You know, you wouldn’t even want a man who wouldn’t go back to save someone’s mother and a drag queen.”

This was true.

Her hand went from mine to my neck and forced me down and my torso explored the limits of the seat belt Lee buckled on me.

“I’ll tell you what’s happening,” she offered.

I bent forward as far as I could to hide myself, heard the locks go on the doors and she started the car in preparation just in case we needed a fast getaway. I listened as Ally counted off Duke and Dolores, who roared off on their hog. Marianne came out with Hank, who took her directly to her car. Andrea came out with Lee, trailed by Andrea’s husband. Lee made sure they were in their mini-van before he went back in. Tex raged out on his own power but this included from Ally an, “Uh-oh, I think he’s bleeding again”. I nearly shot up but she kept me down with a hand at my neck.

The locks went, I was pressed further forward as the back of my seat was tilted, the seatbelt strained to its limits and cut into my chest, and Tex threw himself in back.

“Holy fuck, pandemonium at the gay bar!” he yelled.

I reached out and closed the door, the locks went again and I turned my head and looked back as best I could in the position I was in.

“You okay?” I asked Tex.

“Think I tore somethin’ lose either throwin’ you or doin’ the dive or maybe when I got in a fight with that guy in leather. Doesn’t matter. I feel fuckin’ great! It’s bedlam in there. Fuckin’ nuts!” He stopped, leaned forward and looked out the windshield. “Hey, that’s the guy that shot me!”

My head popped up and sure enough, it was Pepper Rick.

He ran to a car with people in it, a little Mini. The people had left the bar and were trying to get away. I could hear sirens as I watched Rick yank the driver out, the passenger throwing himself out the other side. Rick got behind the wheel and burned rubber.

“Go! Go, go, go!” Tex shouted and Ally didn’t hesitate, she laid rubber too.

I turned my head to her.

“What are you doing?” I shouted.

“He can’t get away!” she shouted back.

With my head turned, I saw Terry Wilcox’s boys, Goon Gary and The Moron as they exited BJ’s.

Jeez, it was like an Indy Torture Squad convention.

Then I could notice no more as Ally jerked around a car trying to exit the parking lot and jumped the curb, screeching south onto Broadway, cutting off a car as we swerved across the two lanes going north and pulling right out in front of a squad car coming south.

The cop car was about to execute a turn in to BJ’s but jerked back out onto Broadway behind the Mustang.

“Pull over, let the cops have him,” I said.

“No way! This guy shot me!” Tex yelled.

Ally wasn’t listening anyway, she rocketed down Broadway, shifting gears quickly, ratcheting up the mph to levels so far beyond safe it wasn’t funny.

“Ally, pull over!” I screamed.

“He’s two cars in front of you. Pass! Pass!” Tex shouted.

We shot passed two squad cars going north, their lights on and sirens blaring. One screeched to a halt and did a uie behind us.

“Stop now! There are more cops, he won’t get away!” I yelled.

“Don’t stop!” Tex shouted. “Never say die!”

I went to bars and clubs without my purse, usually carrying money, credit cards, driver’s license and lip gloss in my front pocket and my cell in my back. It was now that I felt my cell phone vibrate against my ass as I heard it ring. I snatched it from my pocket and tore my eyes from the road long enough to read, “Lee calling”.

I flipped it open as Tex crowed, “No cars in front of us, bump him! That’s it!”

“Don’t bump him!” I shrieked “He’s in someone else’s car.”

Ally didn’t listen, we bumped Pepper Rick, did a nauseating, out of control jerk from side-to-side before Ally righted us and then she yelled, “Righteous!”

I was too scared even to scream.

“Indy.” I heard Lee’s voice in my ear and didn’t realize I’d put the cell there.

“Yeah?” I replied, sounding calmer than I actually was.

“Bump him again, girl,” Tex encouraged.

“Where the fuck are you?” Lee, on the other hand, didn’t sound calm.

Another cop car going north screeched to a halt and swung a uie. I looked behind us and we had three squad cars trailing us now, their sirens blaring and lights rolling. It looked like other cars were back there too, members of the chase, and one of them looked a whole lot like Lee’s Crossfire.

I turned back forward and answered Lee.

“We saw Pepper Rick so we’re following him. Going south on Broadway.”

A car shot passed us, looking like it had Terry Wilcox’s goons in it. It jerked in front of Pepper Rick and slammed on its brakes. Everyone behind it, including us, slammed on their brakes and went into evasive maneuvering. Ally’s Mustang did a couple more sickening lurches and then we all accelerated, Pepper Rick and Coxy’s boys jockeying for position in front of us like they were on a NASCAR track. Thankfully everyone on Broadway was pulling well over because of the squad car posse behind us.

“Pull over,” I heard Lee demand in my ear.

“She won’t listen to me,” I told Lee. “She and Tex are on a mission.”

“Indy, tell Ally to pull… the fuck… over,” Lee repeated.

“Ally,” I said, “Lee wants you to pull over.”

“I can’t,” Ally returned. “I can’t do it. He’s not gonna get away. He shot at you.”

It was then I lost my mind, pulled the phone from my ear and screeched, “Pull over, God dammit!”

We were well into Englewood when a squad car came up beside us, Willie Moses at the wheel. I saw Brian Bond sitting in the passenger seat doing hand gestures at us, his face a mask of disbelieving fury. Ally turned her head to look at him and lost control of the Mustang.

We pitched right then left, nearly side-swiping Willie and Brian. Willie avoided us, shot forward and then we bounded across the median, cars coming the other way swerving and blaring their horns.

With incredible luck, we careened into an old, unused lot, knocked down a chain link fence, driving over it and then coming to a smashing, bone-jarring halt when we slammed into a concrete slab.