Eight Dollars (Trixya)

Dollar 2

The venue was smaller than the one of the night before, but there seemed to be an equal air of enthusiasm.

I was stood with Amy at the merch stand at the side of the room, with a suprisingly good view. After the initial surge of people buying things, it was now pretty calm, with only the occasional person for her to deal with. A few fans had recognised me and we'd taken pictures together, but now I was able to enjoy the anonymity of the corner of the dark club we were set up in. I'd watched a couple of local queens perform so far, and next up would be Trixie.

Trixie appared on the stage, a large pink phone that I'd helped her spray paint a few months ago in her hand. It had been more windy than we'd thought, and we'd ended up with our hands painted Barbie pink too from trying to ensure the newspaper we were using on the ground didn't fly away. Now she looked all elegance and grace, owning the stage with just her presence.

The opening notes of Gaga's song started up, and the room was filled with cheers as she strutted onto the stage. Her floaty pink robe moved around dramatically as she danced, adding to her larger than life stage persona.

The stage was in the middle of the room, and people were crowding around to give tips or watch Trixie up close. I went over squeezed into the crowd to hold out my money, earning a smile from Trixie when she took it. I returned to stand with Amy further back, who was giving me one of her looks.

"Don't ask,"

"I wouldn't dare," she laughed, "But I don't think I really need to,"

I had a feeling that she saw right through what was going on, even if she didn't know all the details. With some people, that might have bothered me, but in the very shirt time I'd known Amy, I'd decided that I trusted her, and that was enough for now. And maybe she was right, maybe it was more fun when you didn't have to pine in silence. It still didn't mean I was going to spill everything like a teenager with their first crush. Sometimes it's nice to keep these things to yourself, especially when your whole life has been documented online for the past few years.

I leaned back against the wall, letting the buzz of the club wash over me as I got lost in watching the rest of the performance.