Free Long Pass Chronicles 02 - Canning the Center by Tara Lain

pulled the edge of the curtain aside. There he sat. Jamal. The bunny. The gorgeous guy—with the gorgeous girlfriend. Just another make-believe heterosexual slumming in LaLa Land. Some little stupid voice whispered, “But he called you three times. He sounded so sweet.” Yeah, chocolate bunnies are sweet, but they rot your teeth .
    He went over to the guy who controlled the sound system. “Jamesy, switch to this song.”
    “Sure, Trix.”
    From onstage, Lucretia said his name. Her name. Trixie LaRue. He took a deep breath and walked into the dark. When the lights started up slowly, some spilled over the apron of the stage, and the bunny’s somber face showed softly in the light. Not the rapt adoration she’d seen there before. More stern, focused—determined.
    Trevor’s music cue crept up. Trixie leaned into the mike. “All men are false, says my mother. They’ll tell you wicked, lovin’ lies.” She spit out the last word as she turned, then faced front again. Set this up. Make sure he gets it . “The very next evening, they’ll court another. Leave you alone to pine and sigh.” Trixie stared directly into those liquid eyes. “My daddy is a handsome devil. Got a chain five miles long. On every link a heart does dangle, of another maid he’s loved and wronged.” The bunny named Jamal winced when Trixie sang that. Yes, it had been Trevor’s plan, but it still squeezed his heart.
    He hadn’t thought further than that line. He stumbled through the rest of the song—maybe her fans didn’t notice—and left the stage and stood in the wings. Breathe. Just breathe . Lucretia frowned as she passed to go onstage and close the show.
    “Pssst.”
    He looked over at Jamesy.
    “Was that okay?”
    “Yes, fine.”
    The old queen shook his head a little. Kind of like he was saying “women” under his breath.
    Better get out of here. He hurried to the dressing room and pulled down the zipper on the gown.
    With a deep breath, Trevor stepped out of it. Not like he had enough money to treat his gowns roughly. Every extra cent he had went into that wardrobe. He put the gown on its padded hanger, then leaned against the counter. Oh, Trev, you’re such a sorry piece of work .
    He looked up at the rap on the door. “Trixie.” Lucretia.
    “Dressing, darling.”
    “He’s still here. He hasn’t moved a muscle from that table. People are cleaning up around him to get ready for the next show, and he’s just sitting there. I don’t think Duke is big enough to move this guy.”
    “This is my problem how?” His chest must be jumping from the hammering of his heart.
    “Girl, you made this mess. You clean it up.” Lucretia’s heels hammered on the old wood floor as she walked away.
    Damn . He slipped on a flowered robe Trixie kept in the dressing room and walked over to the narrow closet. There it hung. The big leather jacket. How many times had Trevor caressed it, smelled it? He opened the door as Jamesy walked by, lugging a mike stand to the lock-up. “Would you do me a favor?”
    “Sure, doll.”
    “There’s a man sitting down front at a table. Would you go get him and bring him here? The big guy.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes. Thank you.”
    Trevor watched Jamesy go, then dropped his head into one hand. What in hell did he do now? Stay Trixie? Become Trevor? Put his dress back on? Lock the door and scream? Why in hell was he looking forward to seeing that man’s face?
    Three deep breaths.
    “Trixie?”
    He raised his head first, then his eyes. That boy must have blazed a trail of fire getting backstage. Oh hell . It was easy to understand why he wanted to see that face. The bunny was all sweet frowns of concern. Good. That made Trevor mad again. “What are you doing here causing problems?”
    He frowned. “I wanted to see you. I didn’t mean to cause problems. But I called you three times and left you a message. I want to take you to dinner.”
    Trevor clenched his fists as if he could use them on this giant.