One Night Only

Friday Again

"We fucking rock, bitches!"

They did it. They saved Byron fucking Powell. Sasha drove down the highway, her knuckles tight on the wheel as Jade screamed in joy. Cloe and Yasmin sang along to Sasha's hottest playlist while Byron sat quietly between them, a bemused smile on his face.

"How's that freedom treating you?" Sasha grinned.

"I'm still recovering from getting stuffed into a Cadillac with four girls, but I'll manage."

"OMG, Byron! We should visit your family! Or your friends! We could do a road trip around America and—"

"No road trips," Byron cut in firmly. "Just thinking about it makes me carsick. I've had enough of those to last a lifetime."

Sasha abruptly hit the brakes. Everyone gawked at him.

"WHAT?"

"I've been hosting TV for 25 years, producing for 30, and I've owned the Pinz since '92."

"...Wait. How old are you?"

"Sasha! You don't ask someone you kidnap that question," Cloe scolded. "Right, Yasmin?"

"That was years ago, Cloe," Yasmin sighed.

Byron cleared his throat. "Ladies, can you be quiet long enough for me to explain?"

They settled down, intrigued. Byron began his story.

He was 17, just back from summer camp. Tensions were sky-high at home after his father discovered Byron's sexuality.

"You're gay?"

"Obviously, ladies. But technically, I'm bisexual."

Things hadn't ended well. Plates were smashed. Shouts echoed through the house. And then Byron was out on the freezing London streets, searching for a place to stay.

Queen Street shimmered with Christmas lights, but the ice underfoot was invisible and brutal. He slipped repeatedly as he passed full shelters. At last, he stumbled upon a grimy, towering building at the corner of Queen and St. Patrick's. A few rough-looking people loitered near the entrance.

"Comin' fo' the metal show?" one asked gruffly.

"Excuse me?"

"We got a heavy metal gig tonight, mate."

"So no food here?"

"Nah. But tell ya what—keep watch at the door, and I'll fix ya somethin'."

"That would be absolutely—positively—the best part of today."

"You actually said 'absolutely and positively'? Wow," Jade teased.

"Jade, I'm trying to keep this story from sounding completely ridiculous," Byron deadpanned.

He stood watch until the man returned—too late. Byron had passed out in the snow. When he woke, a band called Velvet Voltage, decked out in glam-rock gear, surrounded him, nursing him back to health.

"That night was their last gig before the building got torn down," Byron explained. "I was too depressed to leave, so I stayed until the city workers kicked me out. Turns out I was 'too violent' to mess with. Also, drag queens? Terrifying when pissed."

"...So drag queens adopted you?" Yasmin asked.

"For one night. Afterward, I drank myself senseless and somehow walked away owning the club."

Yasmin reached over and squeezed his hand. The pain he'd endured was unimaginable. Suddenly, so much made sense—the Pinz, its gay pride flags, the community outreach. His deep bond with Roxxi.