Page 8 of Not About That Life
“Why not?” Ian flashes that brilliant smile at me. “Only the best for my woman,” he winks.
“Shit, if you don’t want to marry him, I’ll take him, honey!” The muscular bartender says behind us as he slide four more shots. “On the house, guys.”
“Thank you!” I leaned over and gave the bartender air kisses. Ian held my waist as I did it, though I suspected, he didn’t want me to get too friendly with the bar keep in the off-beat chance he wasn’t gay.
“We have your awesome and amazing future to celebrate!” Adrienne passed one shot to all of us.
I looked down at the curiously brown liquid with a sharp cinnamon spice. Something tells me this is going to be easier going down than coming back up. Oh well. I will have to deal with the consequences later.
“To Ian and Dominique!” Adrienne cheered. “Together and forever ever!”
“Forever ever!” We all said in unison as we knocked back the shot. It immediately burned as it eased down my throat. Now I felt invincible like a superhero.
“Ian? Domi?”
We turned to the familiar voice and found Ian’s assistant, Frank. He’s dressed in business casual and he’s holding a Samuel Adams. He really is a man’s man.
“Frank,” Ian smiled and gave him a bro-hug, “nice to see you! What are you doing here?”
“Michael’s performing tonight,” Frank gave me a hug as well, “so I wanted to catch him in action. I love it when he performs.”
“What does he do?” I ask.
“He transforms into one of the best drag queen performers in all of the world,” Frank nods in a way where he’s lowkey hyping up his husband.
“Really?” I’m impressed. I’ve never met Michael but he seemed so demure and sweet in the wedding photos in Frank’s office. And apparently he’s a bad-ass drag performer? Now I want to see Michael’s act. “What’s his stage name?”
Frank rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “It’s not something I’m fond of but it’s a name he’s used before we even met and he was rather well-known by it before,” he takes a pull from his beer, “Ivana Kutchacockoff.”
Ian’s chuckle morphs into a full-blown laughter as Blake and Adrienne join in. I try to stifle my laughter but to no avail. I mean, that’s a hilariously awful name. “Good for him?” I manage to respond.
Frank shakes his head, as if it was a long argument he’s had with his husband and loses every time so it was pointless to bring it up. “It works for him and well, I have no say.” The stage light ups behind him and he nods over to it. “He’s getting ready to perform. Let’s get a good spot!”
We all rushed to the front of the stage and Ian stood behind me as we waited for Michael…erm,Ivana Kutchacockoffto make her arrival. The lights dimmed low and the crowd erupted into a thunderous cheer.
“Ladies and gentlemen! With further adieu, please welcome to the stage, the most exhilarating, entertaining, breathtaking performer since forever….Ivana Kutchacockoff!”
The crowd erupts into a thunderous applause as we waited for Ivana’s arrival. The thumping bass line of Madonna’s “Express Yourself” floods our ears as the velvet curtains pull back.
Dressed as the early 90’s version of Madonna, Ivana makes her way to the stage. Complete with long, blonde ponytail, headset, and pink pointy bra corset. Oh, and she mastered the art of the red lippy.
I’m rather stunned. Ivana looks so good as Madonna, I would actually think I was looking at the real her. She commands the stage, lip-synching perfectly, and has amazing choreography. This isn’t the same timid Michael I’ve seen in pictures, but a grown woman who embraced her sexuality and made no apologies.
I just might have to bow down.
The music changes into “Deeper and Deeper,” and the crowd bounces to the song. I no longer pay attention to Ivana’s spectacular performance as I listen to the lyrics. A woman being unapologetic about falling deeper in love with her mate, not caring who knew, and proud of it.
I feel Ian’s lips softly kiss my neck as we sway side to side. Warmth filled my body as I relished into his embrace. Here I was, with my undeniably straight as a board fiancée, celebrating our engagement at one of the world’s best-known drag clubs.
Magical.
Ivana launches into her third and final song, “Material Girl,” and the crowd goes into a frenzy, singing along with the song, with some jumping up and down to it. Despite the content of the song, it doesn’t really relate to me. I’m not playing myself and say I’m still the same Sister from before, but I’m not also so accustomed to the new lifestyle from Ian, I forget where I’ve come from.
So, maybe I am still the same Sister, just richer.
The song ends and the crowd erupts into a large cheer. I’m still pressed against Ian’s chest and I really don’t want to move, though we have to. I begin to move and I’m slightly off-step, and Ian tightly holds onto my waist. “You alright there, angel?” He smiles at me.
“Drunk,” I honestly answer. In addition to the cinnamon shot that coincidentally I can’t feel my face anymore, I had three before that. I’m sure tomorrow morning is going toreallysuck.
