“I don’t like to fall into many stereotypes, but please hear me when I say I am a farmer—”
“Cowboy.”
“—and so I do not dance.”
“I’ve seen you line dance though!” she yells up at me, unable to stay still.
“Would you like me to line dance to this techno music?”
Over at the bar, a loud cheer erupts from the bachelorette party that invited us along after karaoke. They just threw back shots and Madison throws her fist up in the air out of solidarity.
I can’t help but smile down at her flushed face, sweat-damp hair clinging to her temples. A little drunk from her steady stream of drinks. I stopped after my pink drink at karaoke so I can make sure Madison stays safe.
“Are you having fun?” I ask her, pretty much acting as a human pole for her to shimmy and bump against.
“The best time! I can’t believe all of this was under my nose the whole time and I never experienced it!”
It’s good, I tell myself. This is what I wanted for her—to see this city differently, to feel like she could actually belong here if she wanted. But I didn’t plan for my heart to sink down into my gut at the thought of her actually staying, choosing a future I’m not in.
And for one selfish minute, I wish I hadn’t made this night happen.
11:32 P.M.
We’re in the back of our new friend’s Mercedes, headed to a drag club. Some guy Madison was dancing with mentioned he and his husband had a babysitter for the night and were going there next. They invited Madison to come.
(And me, by default.)
They’re nice guys—currently belting old-school Britney Spears from the front seat. Rich, too, judging by the model of this vehicle and the fact that they can afford to own a car in New York City.
“What’s that?” I ask, peering over at Madison’s phone just as acartoon monkey swings across the screen and plants a kiss on the glass.
“An e-card from Tommy.” She grins and tilts the screen toward me. The note attached reads:Let me swing by and pick you up sometime?
I groan. “Is he still harassing you?”
He sent her a diamond necklace the other day.Thatshe returned to him, saying she didn’t feel right keeping it.
Now she gasps, mock offended. “How dare you! This is classic wooing. He’s doing a great job.”
“In what world isthatgood?”
She laughs. “Okay, fine. Tommy’s pursuit is kind of like if a thirteen-year-old suddenly came into a lot of money. But that doesn’t mean it’sbad.He’s being sweet.”
“He’s being a relentless pain in the ass.”
She slides her phone back into the crossbody purse she’s had slung across her chest all day. “You’re just jealous because you don’t want to share my attention.”
It’s a joke. But the guys in the front don’t know that.
The tall one in the passenger seat turns around with a wistful smile and a dramatically pursed lip. “You two are so cute. I miss being young and in love,” he says, reaching across to squeeze his husband’s biceps.
Neither of us corrects him.
1:00 A.M.
“I can’t believe I met Audrey Hepburn in real life!” Madison says, slumped against me on the sidewalk outside the drag club we just left.
“She was pretty awesome,” I say, steering Madison in the right direction.
