Sticks and Stones [LGBT]

chapter 1: open mic night

"I fucking hate this dress, Dion," I cried, "It makes me look like a hippo." 

Dion turns to look at me. I notice him twiddling with his thumbs nervously, almost as if he's overwhelmed by what he sees when he looks up. "A hippo, huh? Couldn't have come up with something, oh, I don't know, less... cliche?" 

"So I do look like a hippo then..."

"No, of course not, stupid. You look stunning. Now can we get the hell out of here? The open mic's gonna start in fifteen minutes and we haven't even left yet."

I glance over at the digital clock and notice it reads 6:45 in bold scarlet numbers. "Shit," I mutter under my breath, "We definitely have to go." I make sure to apply a thick coat of cobalt blue lipstick before I rush out the door, black heels click-clacking against the wooden floors.

*~*

Once we get to open mic night, I immediately sign my name on the list of performers with only five whole minutes to spare. The lights are dim and candles are lit on rounded tables inside the coffee shop. Sitting in the front close to the stage is Dion, waving me down when he sees I've finished writing my name on the list. Smiling, I make my way over to him, waiting patiently until my name is called to perform. 

You could hear the chatter of people around you, then suddenly, a voice chimed in on the microphone -- "Ladies and Gentleman," the voice began, "I now present to you our first performer of the night, Zuri Fisher." 

The audience erupted into a fit of claps and whistles, egging "Zuri" to come on stage. A light lit up at the center of the stage and a girl walked out, only to stand under the light, tap the microphone, and smile. "Hey everyone," she exclaimed. Many "hi's" and "hello's" roared back from the crowd. "Thank you all for coming out tonight. I'm gonna be performing my piece called The Kiss of Life. But," she interjected, "before I do, I'd like to start the night out with a quote by the wonderful F. Scott Fitzgerald--," and with that, she began reading the quote, "'You do not write because you want to say something, you write because you have something to say'." 

She took a deep inhale and began to recite her poem. And my god, did she slam the hell out of that poem. 

There was something about her -- maybe the way she stood, shoulders back like a growing tree, or maybe the way she moved, arms sprung out like thick walnut branches -- that made me want to get to know Zuri. Words dripped out of her mouth like thick honey with every word that escaped her lips, and with every line, I couldn't help but want to hear more and more. Her words drew me in like a sinkhole, but I didn't mind. I was so captivated within that very moment -- by her beauty or her words more, I couldn't tell. She kept her hair trimmed so short you could barely run your fingers through it, and her eyes -- god, her eyes. They were a warm cognac brown, and when they hit the light, it was almost as if you were looking at two golden nuggets drifting through the air. 

"Mani, Mani, you're up!" Dion blurted, shaking my shoulder to get me out of my daydreaming state. For a moment, all I could do was stare at him, not knowing exactly what to do. "Well what the hell are you looking at me like that for?" He chuckled, "Get up there and kick ass." When it finally clicked that it was in fact my turn to perform, I stood up, straightened out my short black dress, and walked slowly on stage. The lights seemed brighter when you were standing in the center of them, and goosebumps scattered across my skin at the mere thought of letting out a single note. I had never really performed in front of an audience before -- only in the privacy of my own bedroom for Dion -- so I realized that I should've prepared more for this. I tried my best to shake the nerves that so desperately wanted to take over me, off, and in the crowd, I could see Dion sticking up two thumbs, a friendly You Got This smile resting on his cheeks.