Matt grudgingly resumed his seat. What choice did he have?
Bella walked to the front edge of the stage, looked down into the dance pit, and singled out one of the guys.
“Hey, you! In the faux-leather jacket. Yes, you, biker guy. I think I’m packing a bit to the left. What do you think?”
The guy peered up at her.
Bella stepped back theatrically, crossed her legs. “Not my crotch! Pervert! Don’t look up my dress!”
She cupped her large hands over her even larger breasts. “These, sweetie! I know you’re gay but look up here. Is my left boob hanging lower?”
Everyone laughed. Even Matt.
Bella milked the laugh by shifting her fake boobs up and down, trying to get them aligned. Asked biker guy if she had it right yet. Commented on the absurdity of asking a gay guy if something was straight.
More laughter.
No matter what she did, the left boob sagged, which was obviously part of the gag.
“Anybody have any duct tape?” she asked.
“Of course not!” She rolled her eyes. “What kind of idiot asks a roomful of fags for duct tape! Condoms and lube? Buckets full. But duct tape? Where’s the dyke bar?”
Bella poured herself a finger of vodka, tossed it back, then paced the stage, peering into the crowd. “Any first-timers here tonight?” she asked.
Matt felt his stomach knot with anxiety. He did not like this game.
Several hands shot into the air, straining for Bella’s favor. Paul was one of them, standing near the front of the pit, waving his arms like a teacher’s pet. As if he wouldn’t be picked. As if this weren’t just another scene in William’s screenplay.
Matt glared across the table at William, who sat there sipping his bourbon. His face was the picture of innocence.
Bella picked Paul and three other guys, told them to come up on the stage and sit in the chairs like good boys while she shopped for anotherone. She had to fill that fifth chair. She mused that the ensemble was lacking something. The four seated first-timers included one African American and three Caucasian brunettes. She needed a blonde to balance things out!
Matt felt the net closing in. The small blonde hairs on the back of his neck tingled.
Bella rejected the rest of the volunteers. They weren’t blondes, or, in one guy’s case, she quipped that he had claimed to be a first-timer the last three times she’d been to the Copa. She remembered his face. She’d fucked him by the dumpsters.
Bella studied the crowd, searching for a blonde. “Can I get a spotlight on the tables? I think I see one over there!”
The spotlight swiveled in Matt’s direction. He knew it was stalking him.
“I hate you right now,” he whispered to William.
“Say ‘hi’ to Bella for me, dahling.” William smirked.
Matt reached out quickly, snatched William’s drink and downed it in one gulp. Did the same with his quarantined one. The bourbon burned his throat, but he didn’t care. If he had to be on that stage, he needed his buzz back.
“What’s your name, handsome?” Bella asked Matt a minute later as he blinked in the harsh stage lights.
Matt mumbled his name.
“Mark-Paul Gosselaar!” Bella pretended that was the name Matt had given. “That’s a mouthful of a name, honey. And I’ve had some big things in this mouth!”
Laughter.
“I’m gonna call you ‘Zack,’” she said. “That was your character onSaved by the Bell, right? Oh, I loved that show, but thatVegas Weddingmovie was a dud!”
Laughter.
