Always Eli by Charlie Novak

Chapter Eleven

Tristan

I’d toldEli I didn’t have any plans for the weekend beyond a Friday night dinner with Richard, but that wasn’t strictly true. I did have a plan; it was just a secret one.

Even though I’d lived in Lincoln for a long time, I’d never been to The Court before. I’d gone clubbing in my youth because it was part of the university experience, and I’d done a few all-nighters in London because it was part of the culture, but I’d retired my late nights when I’d moved back. These days I spent my evenings curled up on the sofa with a warm drink, a blanket, and either a good book or some television. I hadn’t been joking when I’d told Eli I was rather boring. But Eli had mentioned doing a show on Saturday night, and I’d been intrigued. One spur of the moment ticket purchase later, and there I was.

I’d debated asking Alexis to come with me, but that would lead to questions. Ones I wasn’t sure I’d know how to answer just yet. Instead, I’d decided to be brave and come by myself.

One of the enormous bouncers on the door looked me over as he checked my ticket before ushering me inside. The Court was in an old building, not too far from the riverfront, that appeared to have been converted several times. There was quite a crowd of people, and I found myself swept towards the main part of the downstairs, which was warmly lit with a little stage at the front with red velvet curtains hanging at either side. There was a bar in one corner and the wooden floor was littered with little tables and chairs in a layout that reminded me of the old speakeasies I’d seen in films. I grabbed myself a drink and threaded through the tables until I found an empty one near the back where hopefully it would be too dark for Eli to see me.

I hung my jacket over the back of my chair and settled myself down, sipping my glass of wine and watching the crowd. There seemed to be a mix of everyone—young, old, couples, groups of friends, and what even looked like a hen party. I assumed most of them were queer, and it felt nice for once to be among a familiar crowd, even if they didn’t know me.

There was a large group towards the front on the left-hand side of the stage. One of them sported a shock of pink hair, and as he turned his head, I realised it was Eli’s brother Lewis. I didn’t know the people he was with, so I had to assume he was here with friends. One of them looked like a literal mountain man; another had jet black hair that seemed like it was running away and a lip ring that glinted in the light. There was a man with dark red hair and a curled moustache wearing a Hawaiian shirt and braces, and next to him was someone who I could only assume was some sort of fae masquerading as a human with sweeping platinum hair and an elaborate navy, cream, and gold coat. How he wasn’t baking under the lights was beyond me.

For a second, I debated going over to introduce myself, but that would lead to awkward questions, so I remained in my seat.

I took another sip of my drink and checked my watch. As I did, the lights began to dim and some sweeping, piano music came over the speakers. The crowd cheered as a curvy queen with the most elaborate purple wig swept onto the stage, her sequined dress glittering under the lights. She had a microphone in hand and waved at the crowd like royalty might wave at peasants.

“Good evening, my loves,” she said, giving us all a beaming smile. “How are we this evening?” Everyone cheered. “So you’re all pissed already then? That bodes well for later.” I snorted into my wine. “For those fresh faces among us I am your hostess, Violet Bouquet—it’s a family name, some of you may remember my sister Hyacinth. I’m the pretty one in the family.” There was a round of laughter. I relaxed into my seat, sipping my wine as Violet began talking to the crowd and making a few comments, gently ribbing people. It was funny and playful though, said in such a way that made you feel like you were in on the joke. She saw Lewis’s table and waved to them.

“Oh, look who we have here,” she said. “Mr. Lewis and friends.” She grinned and turned to the audience. “Poor Lewis is the brother of our one and only Bitch Fit, for which I am terribly sorry. I can’t imagine what it was like growing up with a sewer rat for a sibling.”

Lewis said something I couldn’t hear, and Violet laughed. “She hates water? Well, in that case, I shall get myself a water pistol and keep her at arm’s length. Would you like one? Yes? Unfortunately, I’ve agreed to let her on stage later, so we might need them.” I chuckled to myself. I’d never seen Eli in drag, and he’d never given me any hints as to his persona. I’d been tempted to scour social media to find photos or videos, but I’d refrained because I wanted my first experience to be in person. Richard had always referred to it as Eli making a fool of himself on stage, but I didn’t think that would be the case. Or, more likely, if Eli did make a fool of himself, it would be a deliberate choice.

When I tuned back in to what Violet was saying, she’d moved on and was wrapping up her introduction.

“Now we do have some wonderful talent for you this evening, and I hope you’ll support them all. Our first queen this evening is the fabulous Bubblegum Galaxy, but I’m sure she’s fibbing about her age because apparently she was born in 2002, which makes her nearly twenty, and I, of course, am only twenty-one, so one of us is clearly lying.” She looked scandalised, the expression heightened by her lavish make-up. Someone in the crowd said something and she gasped. “You were born in 2003? Well, you clearly shouldn’t be here because I’m sure you’re only twelve. That better be apple juice in that pint glass.”

There was a round of laughter, and I chuckled. “So,” Violet continued, “without any further interruptions, I give you the one and only Bubblegum Galaxy.”

Another queen bounced onto the stage, waving to Violet as she departed. Bubblegum Galaxy seemed to be aptly named in a wig that cascaded in varying shades of blue, purple, and pink with two enormous victory rolls at the front that were covered in stars. She was wearing a bright pink dress with a tutu-style skirt and enormous shoes that sparkled under the lights. In fact, everything about her sparkled. Her energy was like a live-wire, and she bounced through several popular songs, lip-syncing along with effortless style, even hopping down from the stage at one point to dance through the audience. I was in awe.

After her came a drag king named Robin Heartz, who strolled onto the stage in a glittering, pinstriped suit with a fedora perched casually on his head and spats that had the pride flag in rhinestones along the side. He told a couple of jokes, each dripping with wry humour and sarcasm that had everyone laughing before doing a couple of lip-syncs, including one to Weird Al’s parody Word Crimes. His energy was different than Bubblegum Galaxy’s, but I was no less in awe. They were both incredible performers.

Just the idea of getting up on stage was terrifying to me, but to really put themselves out there and craft such amazing looks and performances was something else entirely. I made note to follow them on social media and to come back to The Court more often. I’d never understood until now why so many people loved drag, but just one exposure had me desperate for more. It was art, pure and simple.

Robin strolled off the stage, throwing the audience a flirtatious wink as he did so.

Violet reappeared. She’d acquired an enormous feather boa from somewhere and now had it wrapped around her shoulders like a Hollywood starlet. “Are we all having a good time?” she asked. The audience cheered again. “I see you’ve been making good use of the bar. Well, keep drinking. I’ve got bills to pay.” I laughed. Quite a few people had been up and down to the bar during the performances and during the slight break in between Bubblegum Galaxy and Robin Heartz. I’d finished my glass of wine but hadn’t gotten another. It hadn’t even occurred to me to get one because I’d been so transfixed by the performers.

“Are you ready for our main event?” Violet asked. “Tonight, we have our very own raccoon in residence, the one who is always picking fights, breaking hearts, and leaving a mess behind her. She’s loud, she’s mean, she’s everyone’s least favourite queen. She’s the one and only Bitch Fit.”

I clapped and cheered with everyone else, and then Eli, or rather Bitch Fit, stepped onto the stage, and I gasped. She was wearing a black-and-white skin-tight dress that was artfully ripped in places and clung to a new set of curves with fishnet tights and fingerless arm-warmers that were hung with ribbon. Her hair was white, hugely backcombed but with an artfully styled fringe, and her make-up was a dramatic mix of white, purple, and black. She looked almost like a heightened version of the emo style I’d seen everywhere in the late noughties, like one of those old MySpace emo girls come to life. It was wild and over the top and just… perfect.

I’d tried to imagine Eli in drag several times, but nothing I’d come up with had fit him. And now I realised why. I’d been trying to imagine Eli as some sparkling goddess or glamorous star, but Eli was neither of those things. Bitch Fit was an over-the-top personification of everything Eli loved, and she was fucking perfect.

“Hey, bitches,” Bitch Fit said, holding up the microphone and grinning at everyone. “Oh my God, look at you all. You look worse than me.”

“Not possible,” Lewis shouted, and I snorted.

“Well, you can get the fuck out.” Lewis laughed. Bitch Fit turned towards the bar and I saw a familiar glint in her eyes. “Davide? Darling, these hoes at table nineteen are cut off. No more drinks. They get nothing.” Davide, a broad man in a dark t-shirt, called something and lifted a glass. Everyone in the room laughed.

“Thank you to Miss Bucket, for that charming introduction,” Bitch Fit continued, casually strolling across the stage. She exuded a magnetising aura, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was Eli’s confidence turned up to eleven. “My name is Bitch Fit, I’m Lincoln’s resident emo trash goblin, and I’m here to annoy you all for the next forty minutes because you suckers apparently paid to see me, and I think that says more about your questionable taste than anything else.” I laughed. A mischievous smiled played across Bitch Fit’s lips that were painted with black lipstick. It was a smile I’d come to know quite well.

I settled into my seat, utterly entranced and hanging on her every word. There were stories and jokes that had me crying with laughter, including the pasta throwing family dinner, which she told in honour of Lewis’s presence. There were a couple of parody Disney songs, most of which were delightfully rude about the government. I didn’t know if Eli had written them himself, but I assumed he had. Yet another gorgeous hidden talent of his. Then a couple of lip-syncs to pop-punk and emo classics where Bitch Fit owned the stage like she was on the main stage at Download.

I couldn’t see how anyone could think this was a waste of Eli’s talents. Richard had been wrong. And so had I. Eli was born to perform. To be a drag queen. He belonged nowhere else but in that spotlight, and all I wanted to do was watch him, support him, and make him realise just how amazing he truly was.

Eli was a star. I was just a satellite in orbit.

Bitch Fit finished her uproarious set with a song from a musical television show called Galavant. I hadn’t heard of it, but the song was called “Off with his Shirt” and involved Eli stripping down a couple of very delicious-looking back-up dancers while the audience cheered. I clapped along with them, but I couldn’t stop the twisted knot of jealousy forming in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to get on stage, but I did want Eli to rip my shirt off and run his fingers across my skin like he owned me.

At the end of the song, Bitch Fit did a dramatic curtsey and called on the others to take a bow with her. Everyone clapped and cheered, and Violet gave a little wrap-up reminding everyone about future shows.

The lights came back on slowly, and the spell that had been cast over me broke.

I’d been intending to sit and watch quietly then sneak out, but now I needed to see Eli. I needed to tell him how truly exceptional he was.

The crowd began to disperse slowly, the staff clearing away the tables for the night. I knew The Court transformed into a nightclub, and given that it was around ten, I guessed it was a quick turnaround between the show and them opening back up as a club. The three queens and king appeared from backstage and were instantly asked for photos and selfies. I debated leaving because if I headed for the door now there was no way Eli would see me. It would be my chance to escape like this was some secret rendezvous.

But that wasn’t what I wanted.

I took a deep breath, steadied my resolve, grabbed my jacket, and began to head towards the little crowd that had formed. I wanted to linger near the back so I’d be one of the last ones. That way I’d be able to work out what I wanted to say before I reached the front. But then a group of people moved, and as I stepped to the side to avoid them, I suddenly found myself exposed. Bitch Fit turned her head, and I knew she’d spotted me because her mouth fell open. You couldn’t fake her expression of shock.

“Tristan?”

“Hey,” I said, giving her an awkward half wave and stepping forward. “You were amazing. Truly incredible.”

“You came to see my show?” There was a soft note of incredulity in Eli’s voice that I’d never heard before. For a second, Bitch Fit melted away to reveal a man who couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She stepped closer to me, heels clacking on the floor. The rest of the world dissolved until it was only the pair of us—one lonely man half in love and one six-and-a-half-foot tall drag queen with black lipstick who couldn’t seem to stop staring.

“Yeah,” I said. “I did. I, er, I wasn’t going to tell you, but I had to let you know how wonderful you are. Because you are. Wonderful that is.”

And there it was. My first confession.

“You know, Mr. Rose, you’re full of surprises.”

Two hands found the front of my jacket and pulled me closer as our lips met in a crushing kiss.