And for the first time in years, staying doesn’t feel like fear. It feels like coming home.
Chapter Five
May
The floor vibrates beneath my heels as Dee lands her spin with extra flair. Patti shrieks “Yes, bitch!” while fanning herself with the laminated drink list. Alexa’s over-the-top extensions keep turning our routine into a sweaty, horny free-for-all. Mondays at Sleigh Queen mean rehearsal, cleaning, restocking, and the kind of bickering you only get with people who know all your sharp edges and still stick around.
Behind the bar, T and Carlyle, our bouncer-turned-backup bartender, reset glass racks, their chatter and clinks weaving through the beat. They pretend not to dance, but their hips betray them when they think the rest of us aren’t looking. I perch on the edge of the stage, one fishnet-clad leg crossed over the other, my new ultra-cunty, fir-trimmed red boots swinging as the Post-Christmas medley loops for the umpteenth time. On the floor, Dixie, Felix, and Anna bicker through a new number. Felix keeps sneaking in pelvic thrusts; Anna threatens to staple his “dick print” to the bathroom wall.
I don’t even turn around. “Behave, or I start charging an emotional pain-and-suffering tax.”
I should be focused on the chaos around me, but my mind keeps flickering back to Friday night. Miles was at the bar, drink in hand, elbows deep in shadow, his gaze a low hum under my skin every time I hit the stage. He vanished before the finalnumber, and when I checked with T, they said he paid for his twenty-dollar drink with a hundred and disappeared without a word. I played it off, but the memory sits on my chest like a cinder block.
Since he moved back, we’ve been texting nonstop: voice notes, memes, shared playlists, and ungodly amounts of flirting. He still remembers every stupid detail, still makes me laugh like no one else. But every flutter in my chest is tempered by how we fell apart. First love. First heartbreak. Two kids promising we’d circle back after college and careers. Spoiler alert: we didn’t. We were too proud, too scared to keep the promises we made.
My daydream shatters when Patti nearly decks Dee with a candy cane prop. Dee collapses in a dramatic heap, demanding hazard pay.
“You are the hazard, darling,” I purr, flipping the hem of the velvet mini-skirt of my slutty little riff on a Martha May Whovier Santa outfit I’m testing for this number. “Now stop bitching and run it again.”
I’m halfway through hollering at Patti about her missed cue when the front door groans open.
Miles steps through, toolbox in hand. He’s in a navy work shirt, sleeves rolled just so, collar popped. His hair’s a little wild, and there’s a smudge on his collar that’s almost definitely paint, but honestly? A little grime only makes him hotter. No notes. He freezes in the doorway for half a second, surveying the chaos. Then there it is. That slow, lopsided grin. The way he looks at me is all smolder and affection.
It takes the rest of the room three seconds flat to catch on. When they do, every single queen, bartender, and go-go boy in the joint abandons any pretense of professionalism to ogle my ex.
Nobody even pretends to hide it.
Felix nearly trips over Anna trying to get a better look. Dee props herself up on one elbow, gives Miles an appreciative once-over, and calls, “Daddy, please fix my pipes,” like the shameless hussy she is. Patti’s fanning herself again, this time with real commitment, and Alexa’s mouthingoh my god.
So, yeah. Subtlety is not a core competency today. Not that I can blame them.
The circus blurs into background noise as I slide down from the stage. I make a show of adjusting my skirt, letting the hem ride up a little more than strictly necessary. If Miles is going to look, and he is, that much is obvious, I’m going to give him the full holiday special.
He tries to play it cool, but I catch the tiny crinkle at the corner of his eye. He’s affected. I’m in his head. Good. I approach slowly, soaking up the attention, letting it fuel me. His gaze tracks every inch, from boots to hem to lips.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I murmur, brushing a kiss to his cheek and lingering just a little too long. “Wasn’t expecting you, handsome.”
He grins that crooked grin. “Got a call saying the place was falling apart. Figured I’d better show up before the whole bar implodes.”
I glance back at the crew, all of whom are suddenly doing everything in their power to appear extremely busy. T is polishing at Olympic-level speed. Carlyle’s cleaning the same square foot of bar like it’s cursed. Dee has discovered an urgent need to tie and re-tie her boots.
“Which one of you little bitches called the handyman?” I shout.
Crickets.
“Mm-hmm,” I mutter. “Subtle.”
I spin back to Miles. “Guess you’re here to save us from disaster.”
“Just doing my civic duty, babe.”
Something about the way he saysbabeknocks the wind out of me. Like we never left off. Like the last few years didn’t happen.
God, I’m in trouble.
Alexa snorts. “If you two are done eye-fucking, some of us would like to get work done.”
“Wench,” I toss over my shoulder. Then, to Miles, “Since you’re here, mind checking the upstairs fridge? It’s on the fritz again.”
