The fragile quiet stretches, so the sound of heels clacking grabs everyone's attention as the next performer goes to the stage. The owner is a tan, blue-eyed drag queen dressed like a modern Fairy Godmother from Shrek, sashaying up to the mic. 

“Banshee, I mean Batini,” the queen rasps. She kinda sounded like Bianca Del Rio to Cameron. “Honey…that was–something. I got to say, I haven’t been that uncomfortable since I had to do my tuck in the back of a moving van.”

A few coughs bubbled up, but Cameron could see the queen wanted more.

“I do have to admit. You gave us a performance worth a lifetime…of therapy.” The faint shuffling of cards scattered across the tables, and the queen’s smile lingered just enough for Cameron to wonder what she could possibly say next.

“And it’s a real gift what you were able to do up here. I mean, I haven’t seen that few people pretend to care since the last natural disaster.” 

Amari's shoulders shake silently, but Cameron doesn't know what to think since the last one had been pretty recent. Mouth unhinged, the ginger turns to Amari, unprepared to see the president struggling so hard to not react. 

“Jesus Christ, make him stop." Amari murmurs, but it's not quiet enough.

“You know what, Amari," the queen sighs, heels clicking as she nears. "I’ve been hearing that a lot lately when my dates have turned the lights on, but I’m really hurt about this coming from you." 

Gesturing back and forth between herself and the struggling senior, the queen frowns. 

"I thought we had a solidarity thing going on, you know? I’m going to keep running my mouth til there's nothing to talk about, and you’ll keep running until there’s no cartilage left in ‘em knees—nothing but pain waiting for us in the end. Just two masochists racing to finish. Except at least my partner lets me.”

The room erupts in a low oohs, but the president tries to shrug nonchalantly, although Cameron can see the young man's lips twitch.

“At least my partner doesn’t have to discipline in front of people,” Amari fires back.

“Please. The way she lets you walk out of the house is punishment enough.”

Amari really tries to hold it in, but a little chuckle escapes.

“Aannnd, you’re out of the running for bingo. Who’s ne–you, know what?” Stopping in the middle of the stage, the queen shakes her head. “I gotta circle back to my girl. Elizabeth, my beautiful, Ptolemaic Queen, uh--” 

A few people manage to smother the laughs, but the queen isn’t having it.

“Out, out and out! And, oh hell no," the queen tuts at one boy who was desperately clinging to his table. "You are not going to sleep on that, Khalil. We all met her mother’s side at that one birthday party. Only by the grace of God did I not ask out loud how her mama is both the sibling and niece to the same damn person.”

“Fuck off! I can’t help that my mom shares a brother with her dad,” Elizabeth defends. If Cameron's eyebrows could fly away, they would've.

“Girl. Do you hear yourself? Your grandma is the modern-day Jocasta," the queen continues. "But plowed the other way."

A few more laughs, but the performer only lifts their hands in surrender. 

"It’s hard to feel confident in using the Sasha Crysis as my drag name when there are people like her in the world. But I do have to ask…did your grandpa deserve it?”

Elizabeth holds out for a moment, arms crossed with a frown. But as Sasha keeps giving a knowing look, the girl rolls her eyes. “...Yeah. He ain’t shit.”

Cameron has to bite his lip as he stamps 'family confession'.

“That's what I thought. Your grandma was, like, a writer from Massachusetts, right?”

“Yuh?”

“It’s a shame that she’s gone," Sasha says somberly. "Because she really missed her calling to be a bio-queen named Emily Dickinyourson.”

“Sasha!”

“Sorry, I can’t help that she took ‘Wild nights-Wild nights!’ so seriously.”

The open mic night passed more quickly than Cameron had anticipated. The queen went through half the audience in ten minutes. As more people laughed and pushed aside their cards, the ginger realized that one can’t continue to play if they break. By the time two more went up– a half-decent magician, and Amari doing shockingly good impressions– it was just between Jazmine and himself. Neither had yet one to make a complete line, despite how much they filled their boards. 

Maia decides to take it into her own hands after previewing their boards. Getting to the stage, she narrows her eyes.

“Because you losers couldn’t hold it together, we have a tie. Jazmine versus the newbie, Lucky Charms. As the theme-decider for the night, I will break the tie, but it shall be done in a fast-draw manner. The first person to mark their card and call bingo will win and decide next week’s theme.”

Cameron mirrors Jazmine as she reorganizes her cards and reads over the blank spaces. 

“I will give a countdown, and then say my phrase.” With the drama of an WWE announcer, Maia deepens her voice as she points to her best friend. “Jazmine, are you ready?”

“Mhmm,” Jazmine hums calmly, but still hunches over her cards nonetheless.

“Lucky, are you ready?”

Accepting both the stares and what he feels will be a new permanent nickname, Cameron nods solemnly.

“Aye, aye, captain.”

“On the count of three. Three. Two. One. ‘Who gon check me, boo?'”

The ginger has to make a split-second decision between cards since the quote was on two, but his hand is already moving to the nearest.

“BINGO,” the two yell simultaneously…but Cameron is just a bit faster.

“Call out your spaces, Lucky,” Maia asks as she pulls out her master list.

“‘Who gon check me, boo?’ ‘Enslaved name.’  ‘Vine reference.’ ‘Disgusting bodily sound.’”

“Hmm. Clarify.”

“I could hear Elizabeth’s fingers touch her palms when she did the ‘buh-bye Rachel’ thing.”

“Accepted. Last one?”

“Talks about somebody’s mama.”

“We have a winner, dipshits! Cameron, come to the stage and tell us next week’s theme.”

The ginger couldn’t tell if his stomach dropped in surprise, excitement, or anxiety as everyone fully turned to him. While their small gathering starts clapping and giving some cheers, Cameron can’t help but turn to Amari with wide eyes.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say?”

Chuckling, the president only pushed him up. “Whatever you want.”

“Dude! I don’t know anything but improv-based prompts.” 

Like a loser, Cameron finishes to himself. But instead of agreeing that it was a bad idea, the president’s grin nearly splits his face.

“Bruh, I’m here for it. Make it weird!”

Amari doesn’t give him another second to stall, pushing the sophomore out of his seat. Trying to calm his nerves as the feeling of all the lights and eyes in the damn room were on him, Cameron pulls deeply on his improv classes as he stands on the stage. Maybe too much because as soon as Maia gives him the mic, words start falling off his lips like he was possessed.

“Next week on this very stage at the Wake Up Call Cafe, we’re in for a night of improv,” Cameron announces in a very Irish accent. “We’ll have our first look at this season on The Bitchelor. We’re in for some very candid meet-cutes…or more like disasters. We’ll get a first-hand look at our contestants when they participate in the dating game. If you’re not familiar with the rules, well, you'd better look them up, because all’s fair in love and war.”

Seeing everyone laugh, seemingly not at him, and salute as they turned toward their tablemates, made Cameron release the breath he’d subconsciously been holding. Walking off stage, the ginger plays it cool as a few come up to say hello and introduce themselves. It felt good to just socialize. As he returns to his seat, Sasha Crisis stops by his side. 

“So you’re the little twinkie I’ve been hearing about?”

“I guess,” Cameron laughs. 

“Well,” the queen starts, peeling off the purple wig with ease to reveal dirty blonde fingerwaves. “My government name is Nicholas. But that’s sad, boring, and waaaay too masc, so everyone calls me Nikki.”

“Nice to meet you. I'm Cameron.”

The performer shimmies out of the red dress, revealing a cropped cami and booty shorts, with an easy smile that brings out hidden dimples. 

“I know, honey,” Nikki laughs. “I heard you want a job at Too Sweet.”

“Yes! I’ve bar-backed and done drag before. Ja-Jazmine told me I should show you some of my stuff, so...” Handing over his resume and reviews from the events he’s worked, Cameron fidgets with the ring on his thumb.

“Hmm. I'm surprised there are so many comments about your performances being the right amount of slutty,” Nikki hums as he flips through the pages. “What’s your schtick?”

“Burlesque.”

The queen jerks up, his bright blue eyes darting across the sophomore with a different, more calculating appraisal. “Really?”

Seeing the opening, Cameron is quick to nod while trying to discreetly wipe off his suddenly sweaty hands. 

“Yep. Got into dancing towards the end of high school.”

“I heard you were trying to get into social work,” Nikki says, not with judgment, but worry.

Cameron's stomach twists, the sudden drop in the mood making him feel like his major was bad. Maybe Jazmine was wrong about this going well. 

No, no. Nothing’s final yet. And you should really talk because I think I've been silent a little too long. 

“Yeah… I-is that a problem?”

“Maybe. If you want to be a Sweetie–that’s what we call ourselves at the bar–or join the drag family, we post a lot…so we might not be a good fit.”

Oh. Ooooh. 

“No! I’m fine with being posted. I use temporary tattoos and makeup to change my appearance enough to get by.”

If he still weren’t so nervous, the ginger would join Nikki as the young man lets out a deep sigh. 

“Thank god! I was going to be sad if you were like, ‘no, I don’t do social media.’”

“Can anyone really get away from it these days?”

“Truuuue.” Flipping through the last of the pages, Nikki doesn’t hide his growing appreciation, much to Cameron’s relief. “Do you have any videos of a performance I could see?”

“Yes! I have one from over the summer,” the ginger nearly shouts as he scrambles for his phone. 

Nikki doesn’t shush him, thankfully, and actually joins in on the frenzy, looking over Cameron’s shoulder as the sophomore finds the video. Cameron meant to hand over the device, but the queen seemed content to huddle close. The ginger didn’t mind the proximity, but now Cameron couldn’t watch the young man’s face. 

Now I really have to keep my hands steady, the ginger wailed silently as the video progressed. Right when his hand was about to cramp up, the queen finally spoke up. 

“Honey, you’re…good. Hell, that was probably more solid than my lip syncing.”

Cameron doesn’t do more than smile politely, already sensing the but in Nikki’s voice before the queen even sighs.

“I like you. I think you’d be a great addition. But…”