Page 30 of Sugar High
Then came that long, repetitive “I…loveyoooou” chorus. Silly, yet appropriate for the old Wings hit. When Kit had registered to perform earlier, she imagined she’d direct her voice at Sid for the three minutes she spent with the band. Once the chorus began, she shot her arm forward to offer Sid her hand.
A few patrons whooped in response. The overhead lighting softened and Kit saw Sid beaming back at her. Annalise, to her satisfaction, slid to the middle of the booth and diverted her focus to her beer.
The duet singer crooned the second chorus as Kit continued with the “I love yous” over her. She’d liked this song as a kid, and figured it would be simple to remember for live karaoke, but she didn’t realize she’d be saying the same thing over and over for awhile. Sid, however, sat trance-like for a moment, taking it all in until Annalise lifted her foot and poked her shoulder.
Five steps later Sid stood at the lip of the riser and reached for Kit’s hand, then pulled her closer as the band segued into the instrumental break, triggered by a mohawked girl off to the side with a laptop loaded with music samplers. One click of the mouse added the strings and brass to the four-piece band playing along.
“Hold up!” Kit squealed. “The song’s not over.”
“I know. Let’s dance.”
Still clutching the wireless microphone, Kit clamped one around Sid’s waist and led an awkward waltz around a patch of dance floor. Gradually more patrons joined them, gyrating and grasping each other until everybody bounced in unison. Kit couldn’t tell if the crowd noticed she had missed the cue to sing again, but thankfully the band played another instrumental round and she signaled the guitarist that she was ready to resume.
“How… can I tell….”
Sid crooned along with her, and soon the entire club got in on the act with some singing different lyrics as a round. It should have come out jumbled with all the people gathered, but Kit paid no mind. One look into Sid’s eyes, their arms draped over each other’s shoulders and standing close, cured any misgivings.
Sid’s smile, her warmth, gave her comfort. They could stand together as partners amid all these women in this club, and she could do the same anywhere else.
As the final lyric faded with the band’s last chord, the club erupted with applause and cheers. Sid squeezed her tightly, her lips buzzing her ear. “Kit, I believe I do love you, too.”
Kit nodded at various congratulations and shook hands, all the while keeping her gaze locked with Sid’s. After a few thankyous she edged them to the circular booth where Annalise had become the filling in a blonde sandwich.
“You look cozy,” Kit told her as they approached.
With a head on each shoulder, hands smoothing over arms and thighs, Annalise attempted a shrug, but the goofy grin plastered on her face confirmed Kit’s perception. “You gals want this booth? We’re heading out of here in a few.”
Kit imagined she’d learn the result of Annalise’s outing via text or social media. She held Sid tighter to her. “Actually,” she said more to her than Annalise, “I was thinking we could bug out of here.”
Sid’s smile fell. “You don’t want to stay? The karaoke’s just hitting its stride now. I was going to suggest a duet.”
Kit pecked her on the lips. “If you don’t mind, I have another idea.”
~*~
This, Sid decided, beat lesbian bar karaoke up and down with a stick.
Their waitress, a bit thick around the middle, white apron over a blue uniform, sporting a dyed-orange beehive, arrived with two large plates. “Triple berry pancakes,” she announced and set the short stack in front of Kit, “and a blueberry Belgian waffle.” Service with a smile, followed by, “Let me know if y’all need anything else.”
She waited until the lady bustled out of earshot, then leaned to talk in Kit’s ear. “I still think she’s channeling Lucille Ball.”
“The outfit’s more Alice fromBrady Bunch, though.” Kit pointed with her fork at fake Lucy’s white shoes and support hose. “Seriously, she’s been working here for years and her hair’s always been like that. Sue Briscoe’s lived here all her life, and she told me.”
Sid cut into her breakfast-for-dinner. The malted waffle had blueberries cooked inside, and warm compote brimming in most of the middle divots. The crisp edge surrendered easily to her fork and she speared a triangular bite. “This is delicious,” she said, and sipped her coffee. She loved everything about Shakey’s Diner, a twenty-four-seven greasy spoon not far from the Den. Framed black and white photos of long-gone movie idols graced the walls, and vintage neon logos illuminated the windows. The reproduction Wurlitzer jukebox by the door played vinyl 45s, with not one song recorded after 1964. It was like stepping back in time, eating here.
She enjoyed the company most. Kit had the inside of the bench they shared, and ate with her left hand. This allowed them to sit closer, each stroking the other’s thigh as they talked.
“I talked to Tish earlier, and she knows,” Kit was saying, “and she’s cool with it. I wonder if she might have suspected something and didn’t tell me.”
“She’s very perceptive. I think it would’ve been clear to her eventually.” Sid remained optimistic. She didn’t want to cool the vibe with talk of their afternoon spat.
“Of course, work time is for work. I doubt she’d like it much if she caught us in the walk-in cooler.” Kit nudged her, causing her to flick a droplet of blueberry syrup on the table.
“Hey!” Sid chided. “This is too good to spill everywhere.” She dabbed at the stain with a paper napkin and they resumed eating. After a beat, she walked her free fingers a few inches to the crease in Kit’s jeans. She rubbed her girlfriend’s crotch as they locked gazes.
“I’m going to call Mom and Dad tomorrow,” Kit said. “Like Trish, they might have figured it out, but it’s time I made it official.”
“I’ll be there with you, if you want.”
