Always Eli by Charlie Novak
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tristan
The ballroomof the Jewel Hotel and Spa on the edge of Nottingham had been completely decked out for the evening to the point it was almost unrecognisable as the normal beige space these rooms always were.
There were at least twenty round tables spread across the room, covered in crisp white tablecloths with fishbowl centre pieces filled with twinkling fairy lights and eight chairs tucked around each. The walls were hung with dark, gauzy cloths, and there was a large stage set up at the front with a wide runway protruding from the front. At one side of the stage, on a platform, was a judges table that was covered in a glittering black cloth with large golden stars stuck to the front. There’d even been a lighting rig erected, and colourful disco lights rotated slowly around the ballroom, which was rapidly filling with people.
Through two large sets of double doors, I could see into the smaller adjoining room where there was a table set up for people to vote for the winner and a bar where attendees could grab drinks.
The voting was done through the purchase of tickets that people would then be able to pop into the performer’s corresponding voting box. All the money was going to charity. There was already someone with a laptop sitting at the table, periodically emptying the boxes and tallying up the votes on what I assumed was a large spreadsheet. You could also vote online through the website in a similar system. Whoever had built it was pretty clever.
From where I stood, I saw a crowd at least three deep around the bar, and the hotel staff were practically throwing drinks across the counter. I didn’t think it was going to be as busy as it was, but it made me so happy to see this level of support for the local drag community. Everyone was dressed to the nines, and I noticed a few drag artists mingling with the crowd. I assumed they were either guest performers or previous winners.
“There you are! I thought I might find you lurking here. Are you nervous?” Lewis asked, appearing at my side and snapping me out of my musing. He was clutching several bottles of wine.
“A little,” I said. “More so now that Eli’s backstage.”
We had a room upstairs where I’d spent most of the afternoon trying to relax while Eli was at the dress rehearsal. When he’d come back, I’d forced some room service sandwiches into him before he started getting ready, and about an hour ago, he’d come back down to finish his last few preparations backstage. I’d used the last hour to get ready and then found myself pacing up and down nervously until Lewis and company had accosted me. It seemed like I’d stumbled into this little interconnected network of friends and family, but they’d all welcomed me in with drinks and hugs and open arms.
“He’s going to be great.” Lewis smiled at me reassuringly. “Do you want a glass of wine? That might help.”
“Okay. Sure.”
“Jules is getting a couple more bottles for the other tables,” he said as I followed him to the far side of the room. When Lewis had spread the news that Eli was in the final, all his friends had decided to make a group outing of it. But when combined with the entirety of Eli’s family, Orlando and his men, plus Pamela from the office, it meant there were twenty-four of us. We’d ended up buying tickets for three tables and requested they all be next to each other.
Which in hindsight might not have been a good thing, simply because I could already see things getting very raucous. It was like we’d commandeered an entire corner of the ballroom.
“I found him,” Lewis said, putting the extra bottles of wine on one of the tables. “He was pacing again.”
“It’s going to be fine,” Edward, who looked resplendent in blue and silver, said. “If anyone can handle it, it’s Eli.”
“Exactly,” Jules said as she appeared behind us with more wine, this time for the family table. She was wearing a well-tailored suit with an open-collared shirt, her dark-blonde hair slicked back on top and a fresh fade on the sides. “He’s gonna be fine.” She grinned at me. “And if not, I’m sure you can kiss it better.”
“I didn’t need to hear that,” muttered Richard, taking a bottle of red wine from Jules. Ruby laughed.
“You’ll live.” Ruby looked around the ballroom, a wild smile on her face. “I’m so excited! I’ve never been to anything like this before.”
“You’ll have to come to The Court one day,” I said, taking the glass of wine Lewis passed me. “You’ll love it.”
“I need to come too,” said another voice from behind Richard. “I need a holiday.” His face was familiar, but I hadn’t seen him in a long time. A dark beard dusted his jaw, and he had dark eyes under thick eyebrows. He was the spitting image of a man I’d only seen in an old photo on the family mantelpiece. It was the ever-elusive Oscar.
“Piss off. Your entire life is a fucking holiday,” Jules said. “You just spent a fucking month in New Zealand.”
Oscar smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. I wondered if any of the others noticed. “I know, which makes coming home a holiday.”
“She’s just jealous,” Lewis said. “She wants to go to Ibiza and look at cute girls in bikinis.”
“Santorini. And don’t be a little shit.” Jules poked him in the ribs.
“Look, if you want cute girls there are definitely some here that are looking at you.” Lewis grinned. “Just stop gawking and ask them if you can buy them all a drink.”
“Fuck off.”
The conversation turned to light family bickering, and I grinned as I watched them. It was clear they all loved each other. Richard seemed to be making more of an effort as well, and although he seemed nervous, like a fish out of water, I was pleased to see him trying.
At the third table, I saw Orlando, looking very dapper in pastel blue, chatting away with Pamela. Beside him were his two boyfriends, Charles and Jude, who were talking to Jason. Orlando had finally introduced Eli and me to them a couple of weeks ago over dinner, which had gone better than I’d expected. Eli hadn’t threatened either of them, and we’d all gotten on very well. Afterwards, Eli had been very quiet, and when I’d asked him what was wrong, he’d confessed he’d never seen Orlando so happy, and it was making him rather emotional.
More people flooded into the ballroom, and we took our seats around the tables. There wasn’t a meal, and there were no set seats, which meant we could all chop and change throughout the night. I found myself sandwiched between Richard and Jules, and we turned our chairs slightly so we could all face the stage, chatting quietly between ourselves as Jules and I explained to Richard what was going to happen.
The disco lights suddenly flicked towards the stage, and the front of the room lit up like a firework. Dramatic music surged through the speakers. The room around us erupted into cheers and applause as the competition’s hosts—a man in a brightly patterned suit and drag queen in a sparking red dress that was slit to the thigh—walked onto the stage.
It didn’t take long for everything to get started. The hosts bantered for a bit, then there was an opening performance from last year’s winner, Rick N. Roll—who did an amazing lip-sync routine to a Queen medley—and they introduced the four judges and talked a bit about how everything worked, then it was time for the first contestant!
There were ten contestants in total, each doing a routine that could last up to five minutes. The running order had been randomly assigned the week before with five going before the interval and five after. Eli was on in the second half and had seemed pleased with his place in the drawer.
“I wouldn’t have wanted to go first,” he’d told me when he’d found out. “But it does mean I’m gonna be waiting for fucking ever. I won’t be able to drink anything, or I’ll spend half my time in the fucking toilet.”
The contestants in the first half varied with two standouts in the form of a dancer and a comedian who’d had everyone in stitches. One very young queen was so nervous she barely left the back of the stage, and two others were good but ultimately outshone by the people who came after them. The audience was lovely though and cheered everyone on regardless. Even the judges were kind and constructive.
Jules and I had a bit of a muttered conversation throughout as we sipped our drinks, and by the time the lights came up for the interval, I realised I was starting to feel quite tipsy. I looked down at my glass, which seemed fuller than it should have been, then around at the table. Most of the bottles were already empty.
“How many glasses have I had?” I asked Jules. I’d kept putting my glass down, and clearly someone had kept refilling it. I just hadn’t noticed until now.
“Not sure,” she said, looking down at her own and then at the array of bottles. “Three?” She laughed. “By the time Eli comes on, the audience is going to be trashed.”
As if to confirm this, Finn, Oscar, and a Scottish gentleman appeared out of the crowd with Lewis and Jay, each holding either a couple of drinks or some more bottles of wine.
“I should probably get some water after this,” I said, shaking my head with a wry smile. “If I don’t remember Eli’s performance, I’ll never live it down.”
“Oh yeah, he’ll hold that over you for life.” Jules grinned. There was something about her words and the certainty with which she said them that made something inside me burn. Eli and I hadn’t made any plans for the future; we’d been too busy to think about it. We hadn’t said “I love you” either, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel it. I loved Eli more than I’d ever loved anyone.
Whatever happened, I already knew it was always going to be Eli.
I got up, still mulling over the perfect weight of emotion in my chest and headed out towards the bar. It was still packed, but I managed to get a couple of jugs of water for the tables—since I was probably not the only one who’d want some—and wondered whether I should buy some raffle tickets for voting. Would it be terrible of me to drop fifty quid on votes for my boyfriend? The money was going to charity after all.
When I got back, there’d been a shuffle around in the seating, and I ended up at another table between Lewis and Orlando, who beamed at me and took my hand, squeezing it tightly as the lights dimmed again.
“Are you ready?” Orlando asked, sounding rather breathless. “I’m so nervous I think I might die!”
“I think so,” I said. “Ask me again in ten minutes.” My stomach bubbled, and I began to feel a kick of anxiety. I looked around the room wondering if, by some miracle, I could spot Eli lurking. But no such luck.
The second half opened with a performance from some of the judges and the previous winners, but I was too nervous to enjoy it. I barely watched the first contestant of the half either… or the second. If I’d been kidnapped and asked, I couldn’t have said a single thing about them. My knee bounced nervously, and I sipped a glass of water. I felt like I was going to be sick, and I wasn’t even performing.
“Up next,” said the male host, a local theatre actor, “please welcome to the stage, Bitch Fit.”
The tables around me erupted in cheers and applause, and Orlando squeezed my hand so hard I thought he was going to break my fingers. My chest tightened like I’d forgotten how to breathe as Bitch Fit strutted onto the stage to strike a pose, microphone in hand. She looked incredible, radiating confidence with every step. She was wearing the new boots I’d bought her that morning with ripped fishnet tights, a skintight dress that seemed to have lacing down the side of the skirt, and an incredible new black and white wig with a jagged fringe. Her make-up was the most perfect I’d ever seen with lipstick that faded from purple into black. She looked like a noughties pop-punk emo princess come to life, and I’d never been prouder of anyone.
There was a moment of silence interspersed with a cheer from the far side of the room. Then the opening riff of My Chemical Romance’s “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” crashed through the sound system, and the crowd went wild. Bitch’s face split into the biggest grin as she began to move, bouncing around the stage before she began to lip-sync, working the crowd like she was on stage in front of thousands. The song changed, kicking smoothly into Paramore’s “Misery Business”, then into Avril Lavigne’s pop-punk classic, “Sk8er Boi”, spinning dizzily into Fall Out Boy’s “Dance Dance”. With each change, Bitch Fit pivoted her performance, embodying every word she mouthed, drawing the crowd in and encouraging them to clap and cheer along with her. I’d known a little about what Eli had been planning, but he’d been very secretive about exactly what music he was using, saying he wanted me to experience it firsthand. And I could see why. It was incredible.
The energy in the room was electric, building to dizzying heights as we reached the end, and the music made one final change to My Chemical Romance’s “Teenagers”. Everyone was cheering and singing along at drunken volumes as Bitch Fit conducted from the stage, almost giddy with laughter as she struck a final pose and the song skidded to a close.
The applause was almost deafening, at least to me. Our entire corner was on their feet, screaming themselves hoarse, and I just wanted to laugh. If Eli had ever felt unsupported, I hoped he didn’t now.
He and Bitch were so loved, so wanted, and so incredible.
Tears prickled in my eyes as Eli took a bow and walked offstage. I took a breath, my first in what felt like an age. Whatever happened, I knew I’d never forget tonight.