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artificialqueens · 6 years

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Love Shack, 6 (Trixya) - mallstars

AN: hi, hello! after dropping the first five chapters of love shack on you about a week ago, here’s Chapter Six: In Which Katya Gets Hot and Sweaty.

prepare to feel things and please remember that feedback is important! <3

Chapter 6

In Which Katya Gets Hot and Sweaty

Trixie is slowly getting the hang of things at Smiles for Miles. She knows which kids can’t have dairy, she knows which kids are prone to anger, and when there’s a single tiny shoe lying around in a corner, she knows who that belongs to as well. Today is one of the harder days though. It has been stormy all day, meaning they can’t go outside and the kids don’t know what to do with their built-up energy. This means it is loud, louder even than usually, and there is more complaining than Trixie can listen to.

“So this sucks,” she comments quietly when Shangela flops down next to her on a bean bag, her hair in even more disarray than usual, and stretches her neck, which pops audibly.

“Ya. Kids,” she sighs in mock exasperation. “It’s like this a lot when the weather is shit - Shift! I said Shift!” she quickly adds when two boys stare at her and giggle.

“So what now?” Trixie asks. She has already tried pretty much everything today. She tried reading out a book, but nobody was willing to listen. She tried getting the kids to draw mandalas, or fire trucks, or even mermaids, but nobody stayed at the table for longer than two minutes at a time. She tried building Legos, she tried playing dress up, and had to give up every time. As a last resort she tried yelling at the kids, which helped for all of two minutes and also made her feel bad about herself. At least Latrice is out today and will only come by shortly before closing. That way, she doesn’t see the mess they are right now.

“Ugh, don’t ask me. They don’t even wanna dance with me today. Right, Emma? You don’t wanna dance with me?”

Emma doesn’t answer and instead goes on with her game that seems to be: take random objects in the room and place them somewhere else where nobody would suspect them. Trixie spotted her favourite mug in a box of cowboy dolls a little earlier.

“Gotta miss Ginger on days like this. If she were here right now, she would just get out the guitar and make some noise, that always helped. Well, mostly. Why are you not Ginger?”

Trixie hesitates for a moment. She hasn’t played the guitar in a while, having slowly lost interest in the past couple years. When she moved here, it had been so long since she picked it up that she didn’t even bother to bring it. Besides, her guitar at home is complete trash. But she does know how to play. She’s not great with playing in front of people; she can count the times she’s played for her friends on one hand; but these are just a bunch of kids, and what do they know about music anyway, and she would do pretty much anything to make them quiet down a little.

“I’m better than Ginger. You have the guitar here?”

Shangela beams at her.

Half an hour later Trixie is sitting on the window still, cross-legged, playing a guitar that has clearly seen better days, but that sounds fairly okay. The kids have gathered around her, and, low and behold! quieted down. There’s still the occasional kid running around the room, there’s shuffling, and talking, and a ridiculous amount of coughing, but most of the kids look at her with gleaming eyes. She’s wrecking her brain for every kid’s song she knows. Most of the songs she knows from her childhood the kids don’t know, but Shangela seems to be a walking book of modern children’s songs, never running out of new song ideas the kids can sing along to.

Trixie feels the tension she has felt all day slowly leave her body. She likes kids, she likes music, and she is not sure why she never thought about combining these two things before. There’s something incredibly validating about having all of them look up at her and screech delightedly whenever she starts a new song they like. And her voice sounds nice, she thinks, even when she’s stumbling over the words of verses she barely knows, going after Shangela’s lead.

When Latrice walks in towards closing time they are singing the theme of Sofia the First for the fourth time – back by popular demand – and by now even Trixie knows the lyrics:

I was a girl in the village doing alright Then I became a princess overnight Now I gotta figure out how to do it right So much to learn and see

Latrice sits down on the carpet with the kids, gives Trixie and Shangela an encouraging smile, and starts singing along, her deep raspy voice drowning out most of the kids.

After all the kids have been picked up, Latrice comes up to her. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah, me either. I mean, I knew I could play the guitar of course, but.”

“Yeah. Yeah, so I thought this wasn’t going to happen this year, with Ginger leaving and all, but listen: The last couple years we put on a little musical for the holidays. Just for the parents and siblings, a small thing. Is this something you can imagine doing?”

“Oh. Yes, sure, why not!” Trixie likes that idea. She still has the guitar wrapped around her shoulder, not quite ready to put it away yet.

“Excellent.”

“So, what kind of musical? Do you have the sheet music?”

Latrice thinks for a second. “Ginger always wrote the musicals. I don’t know, I think she took all that stuff with her. But I can call her and get her to send some stuff over.”

Shangela, who is busy getting the room back in order after their turbulent day suddenly chimes in: “We can write a musical ourselves, can’t we, Trix?”

“We can?” Trixie doesn’t think they can.

“Sure. I never liked Ginger’s stuff that much anyway, it’s so – I don’t know, we can top that. I can write some lyrics, and earlier you said you used to write music! Come on, it’s a challenge!”

“Uh, I guess.” A challenge for sure.

Latrice laughs. “That’s the spirit. No, really, just try it out, and if it doesn’t work, we can always still call Ginger.”

♥♥♥

This is how, the next day, Trixie comes back to Shangela’s straight after work. They have a musical to write, apparently. With Latrice’s permission, Trixie has taken the guitar from the day care with her. There’s no guitar case, and she carries it wrapped in a blanket to protect it from the drizzle outside. At the house, Shangela leads her into the living room where Adore is napping on the couch and Chi Chi is doing some course work on the floor. Shangela kicks close Chi Chi’s book as she passes him and plops down on Adore’s feet on the couch, waking them up. “It’s musical writing time!” she announces, “be helpful or get lost.”

It is at least another forty-five minutes before they even start trying to write. Juju comes home right after them and squeezes into the space between Shangela and the back of the couch, holding her from behind and distracting her from getting anything done. They are kissing way too much, Trixie thinks. Chi Chi for his part doesn’t seem to be musically gifted, or at least he isn’t interested in being helpful, but is happy to stay in the room and side-track Shangela with dumb jokes whenever Trixie gets her to give her any attention. Trixie half wants to give up and tell Latrice to call Ginger after all, but she remembers the excitement she felt last night before she went to bed, when she fantasized about putting her own musical together. She wants to at least try now. She picks up the guitar and pulls on the strings thoughtfully, deciding that she would just start writing on her own, the others be damned.

Of course, this is the moment Katya walks in and simultaneously the moment Trixie stops trying to write. Katya enters the kitchen from upstairs and she looks like she’s been asleep until moments ago. She is wearing an oversized black shirt that says SAD GOTH and glasses with black rims; hair legs are naked and fuzzy and there is no makeup on her face. She looks tired. Trixie has to fight two opposing urges: the urge to get up and hug her, and the urge to make fun of her outfit. She sits tight and shuts up.

“What’s going on here?” Katya asks and yawns openly, joining Chi Chi on the floor and stretching her arms over her head. She looks so different without makeup. “Are we making music?”

“We” Trixie answers, shooting Shangela a pointed look “are trying to write a musical for the kids. You’re welcome to be helpful.”

“I’m afraid this isn’t one of my myriad of talents but sure. What do we have so far?”

To Trixie’s surprise Katya ends up being actually helpful. Her biggest contribution consists in making the others focus, not yell over one another, and reel in some of their ideas. Trixie didn’t know Katya had it in her.

Trixie herself doesn’t get too involved in planning the plot and is already trying to come up with little melodies, only half listening to their ideas. Adore insists on an underwater holiday fantasy, an idea Chi Chi enthusiastically seconds. (“Come on, are you sure you can’t have the show at the pool?” he asks for the third time, despite Shangela’s note that most of the kids probably can’t swim yet). Katya and Juju love the idea of an outer space adventure and start coming up with a plot that doesn’t involve Christmas or any other holiday in the slightest (“But making a holiday musical for the holidays is so expected, let’s do something else instead”). After almost an hour of this, Shangela comes through and pieces together a short plot around an elf who is swamped with his job as a first-time helper of Santa and gets help from various magical characters. It’s predictable, but cute. Trixie, who likes to have things perfect, takes a little convincing from the others.

“Listen, it doesn’t matter that much.” Shangela insists when Trixie circles back to an earlier Christmas Western idea. “The kids are damn cute, they are cute when they try to act and sing, and you know damn well they are going to mess up half of their lines anyway. And the parents are going to love it, like they do every year.” She is right, probably.

Apparently, this is enough work for today for the others. Chi Chi turns on the TV and they decide to order in pizza. Trixie, however, doesn’t put down the guitar, keeps trying out melodies, and after a while Adore goes to get their own guitar and together the two of them come up with the first song. It’s far from being a good song and Trixie knows she’ll change most things about it in a couple of days, but it’s the first song she has written in years and it makes her happy just to sit here and play and sing quietly.

Katya has traded in her place on the floor for a place on a big arm chair next to the couch. She is surprisingly calm today, no jumping around the room, no pulling Shangela’s hair, nothing. Instead, she’s playing around on her phone, constantly texting, but every now and then she looks up to smile at Trixie, who feels particularly self-conscious about her voice in those moments.

When Trixie gets home just before midnight she gets a notification from Instagram and clicks to see Katya uploaded a picture of her and Adore. She’s sitting on the couch, guitar in hand, looking down and smiling slightly, Adore next to her. The only caption there is is a pink flower emoji.

♥♥♥

The next day, Trixie wakes up with the itch to do something monumental. She can’t, however, figure out what exactly she wants to do, so she spends most of the day doing her homework and preparing a presentation she has to give the next day. She feels unsatisfied all day and apparently spends quite a bit of time sighing and huffing because finally Kim asks her, in an exasperated voice: “What is going on with you today?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. I want to do something.”

“Okay? Let’s do something then.”

“Like what?” Trixie whines.

“We could go out? We could go to the milkshake bar you like? To the park? The movies? Throw stones into the river? Feed a duck? I’m down for whatever.” Kim shuts her book with a loud thud. She has spent all day on her homework as well and must be pretty annoyed with it if she’s so ready to go out. Kim likes staying in.

“I don’t know. Gimme more options!” Trixie turns fully towards Kim so Kim can get a good look at her pout.

Kim rolls her eyes and thinks for a moment. “Okay, so, uh, I didn’t know if I should bring this up because Shangela told me you said no, but Juju gave me something to give you.” She gets up and pulls her purse out of her bag. Inside, there’s a yellow post it note she hands to Trixie. There’s a phone number on it. Trixie raises her eyebrows in question.

“Shangela said Juju told you about this girl who’s interested in you. That’s her number.”

“Oh.” Trixie had completely forgotten about that. A couple of months ago, the idea of a girl being interested in her would have excited her to no end, but she can’t evoke that feeling right now. She lets herself fall down on her bed and hugs a pillow to her stomach. “What’s her name?”

“Pearl. Her name is Pearl.”

Pearl. “Like Pearl Slackhoople,” Trixie notes.

“Who?”

“Pearl Slackhoople. She’s Fred Flintstone’s mother in law.”

“Uh huh.”

“She doesn’t approve of him.”

“This Pearl is nobody’s mother in law. Do you wanna text her maybe?”

Trixie groans. “I don’t know. Do you think I should text her?”

“I can’t make that decision for you. But, umm. No, never mind.”

“Come on. You can’t do that.”

“Okay. It’s just, I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while. Uh, when we were at Juju’s party in the kitchen and you met Violet…I don’t know – what’s going on between you and Katya?”

Trixie throws her arms over her face and sighs loud and dramatically. “Do you want me to tell you more about the Flintstones? I have some opinions I’d like to share. Like, about their fashion? You like talking about fashion.” Trixie thinks she could pull some opinions on this out of her ass, probably.

“So I’m not wrong. I’ve seen the way you look at her, Trixie.”

“Oh god? How do I look at her?”

“Like you want to walk over and sit in her lap, basically.”

“Shit.”

“So do you? Want that, I mean?”

“Kim! Kim, I don’t know! She has a girlfriend.” This conversation is a lot to handle for Trixie. She feels blood rushing to her cheeks and hides her face in her pillow. She should have taken the chance to go out and feed ducks instead of having this conversation.

“I know she has a girlfriend. I love Violet. She doesn’t get along too well with some of the others, or maybe just Juju mostly, but I think she’s great.”

“Ugh.” Trixie doesn’t need to hear this. Trixie wants to hear how Violet does arson in her free time and steals from the poor.

“You know they have an open relationship, right? Violet definitely wouldn’t mind you sitting on Katya’s lap a little.”

Yes. Trixie does know this. Has known this for a little over a week now and has spent entirely too much time thinking about it. “Yeah I know.”

“And you like her?”

“What is this, high school?” Trixie throws her pillow at Kim and immediately misses its protecting warmth on her face. “God, yes, I like her.”

“Do you…not want to go for her because of Violet?”

Here are the reasons why Trixie does not want to go for Katya. 1) Katya herself said that she thinks mostly about Violet when she hooks up with somebody else and Trixie just isn’t able to handle that knowledge. 2) Trixie feels like she should not take advantage of Katya’s state. Katya trusted her with her feelings, was open with her when Trixie wasn’t open with Katya, and it wouldn’t feel right to enter into something with Katya without Katya knowing about Trixie’s feelings. Whatever these feelings were. 3) Trixie is scared of getting rejected. She is nothing, absolutely nothing like Violet, and therefore probably not Katya’s type. The thought of her coming on to Katya and Katya just not being interested at all is mortifying. 4) Thinking a couple of steps ahead, Trixie is also scared Katya would hook up with her once and then never again. She can’t imagine what it would be like to know how it feels to kiss and hold Katya, to maybe even fuck Katya (this is a thought Trixie has managed to almost not indulge in at all so far, and she’s glad about that), and then never getting to do it again. 5) Going for a girl, any girl, even the most single girl, is terrifying.

“Yeah,” is the answer Trixie finally settles on. She buries her face in her hands and groans. “This sucksss. I just need to get over this.”

“Maybe, yes. So, uh, do you think maybe it’s a good idea to text Pearl? And go out with her tomorrow? Not today. You need to entertain me today.”

Okay, Trixie decides. This is happening. She has no idea who Pearl is, what she likes, what she looks like – and realizes that her lack of curiosity is probably a bad sign – but she enters her number into her phone anyway. Once Pearl’s number is in her phone, Trixie can see her profile picture in her messenger’s contacts. She zooms in. Pearl is hot. She’s either giving the camera bedroom eyes, or was caught halfway through blinking. She has a septum piercing, which Trixie loves. Her hair is short and curly, shaved off at the sides. Not at all like Katya’s hair, in her messy braids and buns, that Trixie feels the itch to smooth down all the time. Her hair looked so beautiful in the light of the rising sun that morning in the garden.

“Don’t know what to text her?” Kim prompts her. Trixie realises she has been looking at her phone, doing nothing, for a too long time.

“No. Let’s go out.”

They head out not knowing where they want to go and walk around the neighbourhood for a while. Trixie suggests going into the opposite direction of Katya’s, half because she doesn’t feel like ending up there right now, and half because she realizes she barely knows any other part of the neighbourhood. They get some coffee to go and do window shopping when Trixie is struck by an idea. There’s a tattoo and piercing studio on the other side of the road. It’s painted an obnoxious red, the tattoos in the front window are unnecessarily ugly, and it is the key to the monumental thing Trixie needs to do today.

“Kim. Think about if you want any tattoos or piercings, because we are going in there.”

Turns out, you need an appointment for a tattoo, but Trixie didn’t want a tattoo anyway. When they walk out of the shop forty-five minutes later, Trixie is the proud owner of a septum piercing (and a very achy nose). It’s dark golden and ornate and Trixie is thrilled.

She tried to talk Kim into getting a matching one, but there was no way. Kim is more than happy, however, to indulge Trixie and take a bunch of pictures of her with her new piercing. She wants to upload one to her Instagram, showing her new self off to as many people as possible.

Once they are home, Trixie spends a whooping fifteen minutes to decide which picture looks the best, puts a filter on it, and uploads. Her first post in months. She’s a little excited about some of the people back home to see her, with all that heavy makeup and the septum. It’s a change for sure.

After uploading the picture, she spends some more time on her presentation, finally able to focus now that she has done something with her day. When she looks at her phone again, almost three hours have passed, and sure enough she got some likes and comments – the first one from Kim, of course, even though she took the picture and is sitting opposite her right this moment. She can count on Kim.

She scrolls through the comments, one from a co-worker back at the hotel, one from Sasha, one from Adore, one from Juju, three from former friends of hers that she hasn’t spoken to in years, and, finally, one from Katya. It just says yes bitch!!

The next day is a Sunday and Trixie spends the morning sitting in bed wrapped in a blanket and playing the guitar. Kim is out with Shangela. She asked Trixie to come, but Trixie felt like getting some song-writing done today. And she actually did. It’s only just past noon and she has already smoothed out the first song she wrote with Adore at their house, and she has a second song halfway done. She doesn’t need more than three or four songs for this musical, because the kids would never be able to learn more than that, so she’s already finished with a big chunk off the work. She feels more accomplished than she can remember feeling at any point in the last couple of years. Why did she ever stop writing music? It makes her feel so good.

Deciding she’s done with the musical for today, she keeps playing the guitar strings absentmindedly, lying on her back in bed. After a while she gets out her notebook that she hasn’t written in anything since her plane ride here and begins scribbling down lyrics.

When Kim comes back, a little wet from the rain and with an early dinner for both of them, Trixie has outlined her first non-muscial song in years. There are lyrics missing every here and there, and she’s only written the music for the chorus, not the verses, but the knowledge that she actually got something written has Trixie in such a good mood she decides to text Katya for no other reason than she feels like it in that moment.

Trixie

hey, hope youre doing okay :)

Katya must have had her phone in her hand (texting Violet, maybe?) because she replies almost immediately.

Katya

doing okay, thank you for asking.

Trixie thinks a moment about a reply to that, but before she starts typing, there’s another message from Katya.

Katya

Milkshakes?

Trixie lets out a suffering sigh at that. Hanging out with Katya never helps. Of course it doesn’t.

Trixie

Milkshakes.

Trixie is at the milkshake bar a little early, freezing in the early winter air. The wind is particularly harsh on her newly-pierced nose, and Trixie makes sure to hide half her face behind her fluffy scarf. By now most of the trees around her are bare and she can see her breath against the dim yellow light of the bar in front of her. She scrolls through her phone for a while, but has to put it away because the cold wind bites into her hands. She misses summer already.

When Katya shows up a couple of minutes later she is wearing one of the ugliest dresses Trixie has ever seen under her open coat. It’s made of a rough awkward knit, in a bright yellow and has big turquoise buttons. As if this wasn’t enough, she’s wearing suede heels with yellow fringe on them. Trixie wonders if Katya dressed this terribly on purpose and somehow her mouth decides this is an okay thing to ask Katya:

“Do you do this on purpose? Dress like this, I mean?”

This sends Katya in one of her laughing fits; there’s a split second where she looks at Trixie in disbelief, then she starts laughing without a sound, flailing her arms around.

“You cunt!” is the only answer Trixie gets.

Once they’ve settled into a booth as far away from the door as possible – Katya barely seems to mind the cold air, but Trixie minds enough for both of them – Trixie gets a strawberry milkshake like the last time they were here, because why change a good thing. Katya gets one with caramel corn that’s a special offer for the week. She picks out the popcorn with her fingers and chews it slowly, looking satisfied with her choice.

“So how are things going with the musical?” she asks through a mouth full of popcorn. One piece of popcorn falls out of her mouth and onto the plastic table.

“Good. Surprisingly good. I mean, I could strangle Shangela for telling Latrice we could write a musical and then doing basically fuck-all, but I’m coming through, so.”

“Haha, Shangie. She’s the worst.” Now Katya is sucking her index finger, getting a coat of sugar off it. Trixie focusses on the piece of popcorn on the table.

Trixie takes Katya’s comment as an opener to ask a question that has been on her mind for a while. “What’s it like living with this many people?” Trixie has only ever lived with her family, and now Kim. She can’t quite imagine being in a house with so much…going on all the time.

Katya grins. “It’s pretty great, mostly. There’s never enough room because Bob has trouble saying no to people, but Yara and Alexis moved out the end of last year, and now Violet’s gone, so it’s chill for now. I’m sharing my room with Sasha, but I love her, so that’s good. Did I ever tell you she’s my favourite person? If I would have to share a room with any of the others it would drive me up the walls, probably. Up the walls! But not Sasha. I don’t know, maybe Jinkx would be okay, or Chi Chi, but that’s it. But Jinkx listens to a lot of opera. I like opera, but it makes me antsy, kind of. Did you know Sasha is a real Russian? Did Kim make your nails, or did you do them yourself? I like your septum.”

“Thanks. And I made them myself, but I used Kim’s stuff. Kim’s so good at sharing.”

“Kim is the best.”

“She is. So, uh.” Trixie decides now is as good a time as any to ask that next question. “How did you, err, come to Bob’s house?”

Katya laughs lightly. “What did Kim tell you?”

“Nothing! Nothing. But when I first came over Chi Chi said something about you guys being Bob’s…” she trails of, knowing she can’t finish this sentence.

“Charity?” She pronounces the word in Chi Chi’s southern drawl and snorts. “Yeah, Chi Chi likes to say that.” She leans back in her chair and looks at Trixie critically. “Okay. Okay. So you want to have the story?”

Trixie nods, straightening her back and leaning forward slightly, propping her chin on her hands.

Katya takes a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t have the classic got-kicked-out-of-my-house-for-being-queer-story. Some of the others have, but those aren’t stories for me to tell. My parents are actually so wonderful. Always supported me, gave me all the opportunities, you know. But I ended up really anxious and fucked up anyway and dropped out of college and it all went downhill from there. Drugs mostly, I did them all, and some fucked up things to pay for them. I did rehab once, started using again, and now I’m sober again. But it’s a constant thing, it never ends. Sobriety, I mean. One day at a time, every day. I’m never going to be okay. Or, I’m going to be okay, I’m okay right now, I’ve been okay for a while, but, y’know.” All of this comes out of Katya in a fast pace, while she fiddles with her napkin. Trixie gets the impression this isn’t the first time Katya has told this story. She doesn’t have too much experience with drug addiction, but she thinks she understands, mostly.

“Oh wow,” she says, trying to look at Katya with a look that shows compassion, but not pity. That’s a hard look to achieve. She obviously fails because Katya says:

“Don’t look at me like this. I’m fine. Fineee. Bob even helped me pay back some of the money I owe. He’s incredible. And we don’t pay more rent than we can. Some of us barely pay at all most months. At least I don’t, I’m still paying off some debts, and I don’t think I’m the only one. Bob owns the house, you know. He lives in an apartment with his husband and kid, and it’s really nice, but of course the house would be nicer. But he keeps it for us.”

“That’s pretty incredible.”

“It really is. It really is!” she hits her fist to her thigh at that. “I’m just so lucky. And I haven’t lost too much time before I got my shit halfway together, which is great. So I’m twenty-seven and I’m only now finishing a three year University program but, like, I’m finishing a three year University program. Can you believe that. I can’t, sometimes.”

Twenty-seven. Trixie didn’t know this. She had just assumed that Katya was her age, or a little younger maybe. She looks younger.

Katya picks the last bit of popcorn out of her milkshake and looks at Trixie thoughtfully. Trixie has trouble holding Katya’s gaze. “Could you maybe tell me about you?” Katya asks when Trixie fails to pick up the conversation.

“What do you mean?” Trixie isn’t quite ready to close the conversation on Katya’s drug use. She has a million questions.

“I don’t know that much about you. I know that you’re very pretty, and you’re good at the music, and you’ve told me about where you’re from a bit, and those are good things to know, great things to know, but it’s also not much.”

Oh god. Katya thinks Trixie is very pretty. Trixie is having a hard time not to grin from ear to ear. She is going to ride that compliment till the end of time. “So what do you wanna know?”

Katya gives her a challenging grin. “We talked about my scary love life, so I guess it’s only fair we talk about yours.”

Oh shit. Trixie’s heart skips a beat at that and she focusses her gaze on a figurine of a woman in 50s clothing, carrying a tray of milkshakes. Trixie had put on an ensemble very much like this before she got here, liking the idea of matching the bar. She wonders if Katya noticed. She hadn’t said anything, but then it was probably hard to compliment Trixie’s outfit when Trixie had lost no time insulting hers.

“Umm. There’s nothing to talk about, really.”

“Why’s that, Barbra?”

“I don’t know I’m just not, uh, looking to date right now.” Well, that was a blatant lie. Even if Trixie hadn’t met Katya, she was very much in the mood to date when she moved here, and she knows this damn well. She regrets her lie immediately, but it’s too late to take it back now. She hopes Katya can see through it.

“Yeah, I get that.” Katya says, taking off her glasses for a moment to rub her eyes. “It’s, uh, a lot. Dating is a lot.”

“Do you want to talk some more about Violet?” Trixie asks and thinks she deserves a medal for best friend here. But then again, she knows she secretly wishes for Katya to say things have turned from bad to worse. So maybe no medal for her after all.

Katya crushes the ice in her glass with vigour. “No, we’re talking about you here, Trixie. If you don’t wanna talk about dating and shit, then something else. Like, what’s your favourite movie? What’s your opinion on our foreign politics? Do you like the smell of lemon grass? Something.”

“The last time I dated someone I cared about was in high school.”

“And what happened?”

“I don’t know. I was scared pretty much the whole time. Like, of people judging us. Of fucking up in general. I have a hard time remembering what exactly the problem was, but I know I felt like shit most of the time, and so did she.”

At the end of that sentence, Katya shoots her a curious look that Trixie doesn’t know how to place. Katya doesn’t comment, so Trixie goes on: “It’s just the worst, you know, when you love someone, and they love you, and you still can’t make it work. It’s the worst. And then, years later, you’re left with this vague feeling of failure and regret, and you can’t even remember the details of what really went wrong.” She sighs loudly, realizing this is the most she has spoken about Shea to anyone, ever. “You love someone, and they love you, and you still can’t make it work.” she repeats, because this sentence feels important in that moment.

Katya looks at her with wistful eyes. “Tell me about it.” she says, and she smiles, but it’s a sad smile, and Trixie wants nothing more than to reach a couple of inches over the table and put Katya’s hand in hers. Instead, she knots her hands in her lap, and makes sure to change the subject to something lighter, something that isn’t Shea, or Violet, or failure.

♥♥♥

Trixie spends the next two weeks focussing on her classes, and, more importantly, her musical. She loves what she’s creating, and is more proud of the musical than anything else she’s ever written – even though it just a bunch of bullshit about a Christmas elf.

Her second date – well, friend date – with Katya at the milkshake bar is the last time they spend time alone together for a while. They see each other a bit here and there, but there’s always somebody else there with them. Trixie starts coming regularly by their house to talk to Jinkx about her studies and Jinkx turns out to be wonderful at making Trixie go from anxious to calm in record time. Sometimes the whole group do things together, there’s a movie night, and one time they go watch Chi Chi’s soccer game. Katya seems to be in a great mood most of the times Trixie sees her, but she’s also quiet. She doesn’t work well in big groups, Trixie notices, and itches to spend some alone time with her again. She never asks Katya to hang out, however, always talks herself out of it. It wouldn’t go anywhere and can only do harm.

By now, Trixie has gotten used to their relationship. Sure, she still thinks Katya is the prettiest, funniest, most fascinating person she’s ever met. Sure, she still sometimes catches herself dressing up for her, and even once wearing a dark red lipstick because she thought Katya might like that (she did). But she has also accepted the way things are. A couple of weeks have passed since their conversation in the garden, and things with Katya and Violet seem to look up a bit. Violet texts Katya sometimes when Trixie is present, Violet likes all of Katya’s dumb Instagram posts, even the ones that are too stupid for even Trixie to like, and a week ago they met up in New York for a couple of days, and Katya seemed happy when she got back to Boston.

As much as Trixie is convinced she’s fine with the situation, she still hasn’t texted Pearl. She opens the messaging window sometimes, one time even gets as far as to type “hi, it’s trixie”, but she never contacts her.

♥♥♥

It’s 8pm on a Wednesday and she’s watching Netflix with Kim when Trixie gets a message from Adore.

Adore

Gig at the club tonight. Wanna come?

Trixie hasn’t been to the club since that first time – when she swore herself to go every week from now on. She has work tomorrow, and some homework she still hasn’t started, but things like this don’t stop Trixie.

Trixie

Yes!

I’ll be there

Adore

Party.

Adore sends the same invitation to Kim, too, but Kim can’t be bothered tonight. She’s already in her pyjamas, eating pickles again, and refusing to get out of bed. “Suit yourself.” Trixie gives up on trying to convince her, and pulls one of her dresses out of their closet. When she’s doing her makeup, she decides she needs to know if Katya will be there. She has to mentally prepare. A little.

Trixie

hey! you coming to adores’s thing tonight?

Katya

Don’t think so.

I’m painting.

And moody.

Moody painting.

Looks pretty bad.

And sad.

Sad and bad.

Me time!

Trixie

So what you’re saying is you’re not coming out because you’re making bad art?

Katya

Yes.

But also

I think I am coming out

I just remembered your dancing at the club last time

Wouldn’t wanna miss that

Trixie must have smiled like an idiot at this, because Kim looks at her with raised eyebrows.

“Katya?” she asks.

“Katya.” Trixie says.

When she comes to the club, Katya, Sasha, and Jinkx are already there. She hugs all of them, and is reminded of the last time she was here, how new they all had felt to her, and how much has changed since then. Here is what hasn’t changed: When she hugs Katya, she lingers and breathes in her flowery perfume. Katya hugs her back tightly and when she lets go Trixie feels cold. Tonight, Trixie is wearing a hot pink dress that by far isn’t the prettiest dress in their closet, but is the first dress she has finished herself, with only a bit of Kim’s help. She clashes beautifully with Katya, who is once again wearing bright red. As usual, Katya’s dress is tight and has a confusing geometrical pattern on it. Around her neck is a necklace made of cigarettes and her hair is up in a messy ponytail. Trixie tries to come up with a comment for the cigarette necklace, but has nothing.

The rest of the group isn’t coming. It’s a Wednesday, after all, and some of them have things to do. The club is filled to the brim either way. Apparently, Adore has quite a fanbase. At the bar, there’s a group of three wearing self-made Adore shirts, and Adore is signing a guy’s biceps in a corner. The people Adore – or maybe this club in general – attracts fascinate Trixie. Again, even with their fashion choices, their group doesn’t stand out in the club. This makes Trixie frown a little. What does a girl have to do to stand out around here?

When Adore and their band start playing, Trixie knows immediately why people are excited to see them. Adore is great, their energy, their looks, their voice, their lyrics, everything is just right. Katya gets all of them beers and herself lemonade and they drink, jump, and dance till they’re sweaty and out of breath. Katya sweats a lot, Trixie notices. Katya is jumping up and down right in front of her, yelling Adore’s lyrics, that Trixie has never heard before, at full volume, spilling her drink quite a bit. She’s so close Trixie can see the individual beads of sweat on her neck and her hair sticking to her skin. Trixie isn’t drunk, or at least she doesn’t think so, not after two beers, but looking at Katya she feels a little buzzed. She wants nothing more than to reach out and touch Katya, snake her arms around her waist from behind and –

“You wanna go outside, catch some fresh air?” Sasha yells into her ear suddenly, interrupting her rudely. Trixie doesn’t really feel like going outside, but with the way she just fixated on Katya it is probably just what she needs. The last thing she wants to do is accidentally acting on her fantasies and freaking everybody out, including herself. So she nods. Fresh air would do her good.

She goes outside with Sasha and Jinkx, leaving Katya – who claims to be having too much fun to go – behind. It’s cold outside, and they checked in their jackets so they’re freezing. The cold clear air is a welcome change, however, so they stay outside for a bit. Trixie moves to the sound of the music from inside, still impressed with what Adore does. She barely contributes to the conversation Sasha and Jinkx are having, instead walks up and down on the sidewalk, humming quietly. At one point she hugs Jinkx closely from behind, half because she likes them, and half because she just really wants to hug somebody right now. Jinkx puts their hands over Trixie’s and gives her a big smile. Trixie loves their chipped front tooth. “I love your dumb teeth,” she informs Jinkx. “I love your dumb teeth as well,” Jinkx answers, and tightens her hands around Trixie’s. When Trixie finally feels her hands go numb and it gets too cold to stay outside any longer, they make their way back on the dance floor, and Trixie immediately notices that Katya has left her spot. She looks around, suddenly worried, but finds her quickly.

Katya is standing by the bar, talking to an extraordinarily beautiful person. They are tall, slim, and androgynous – Katya’s type, Trixie thinks with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Their skin is dark, and their hair, long and grey, tied in a knot in their neck. They are covered in tattoos, completely flat-chested, and wearing a black glittery jump suit. And they have their hand on Katya’s, lying on the bar.

Too late Trixie notices that she’s following Sasha, who’s walking up to Katya, and introduces herself to the stranger as if that is something you do.

“Hi, I’m Sasha. This is Jinkx, and Trixie. We’re with Katya,” she says loudly over the music.

The beautiful stranger takes their hand off Katya’s – so at least this problem is solved – and gives them a small wave. “Raja,” they say in a deep voice. They are quite a bit older than Trixie and Katya, close to forty, Trixie guesses. Their tattoos aren’t the ugly kind Trixie saw in the tattoo studio’s window a couple of days ago, they look fascinating and Trixie finds herself trying to get a closer look when out of the corner of her eyes she notices Katya giving Sasha a look that pretty much says: Go away, I’m busy.

To Trixie’s dismay, Sasha seems to get the message immediately, and returns to their previous spot on the dance floor, with Trixie following behind like a lost puppy.

Adore’s concert continues, the crowd is as enthusiastic as ever, but Trixie barely takes any of that in anymore. She keeps stealing glances at Katya and Raja out of the corner of her eye, and what she sees makes her lose all motivation to dance. Not only is Raja’s hand back on Katya’s, worse: Katya is standing very close now, her other hand on Raja’s naked biceps. They are talking, and Katya does her laugh thing, leaning her head into Raja’s chest with it. Trixie forces herself to look away for a minute, focusses on Adore’s blue fingernails on the microphone for a whole minute, but breaks down and looks again. Katya is standing even closer now, her hand tracing Raja’s tattoos on their arms. They are not talking anymore, just looking at each other with expressions Trixie can’t figure out from where she stands across the room, and as Trixie watches Raja’s hands go to cup Katya’s ass.

This is when Katya leans in. She gets on her tip toes, Raja is so much taller than her, and kisses Raja, once, softly. Then Raja pulls her in closer, their body’s now flush together and starts kissing her fervidly. Katya’s hands start roaming, go from Raja’s arms over their chest, to their face, their hair, and back, Raja mirroring her movements. Trixie wants to do nothing more than to look away, but can’t get her eyes off the scene. In a fleeting attempt to look at something else, she lets her eyes drift over the other people at the bar and notices at least two strangers who seem quite caught up with the scene in front of them. One of them licks his lips and blatantly looks at Katya’s ass. Trixie feels sick.

So this is happening. Of course it is. Katya is in an open relationship after all. She had told Trixie that she wasn’t interested in hooking up with anyone, but apparently this has changed, or Raja is just too hot to resist, she doesn’t know. All Trixie knows is that Katya is kissing somebody that is not her girlfriend, and it isn’t even her. For some reason Trixie had the fact that Katya has a girlfriend pinned into her head as the one and only reason she’s not with Trixie. But of course this isn’t true. Of course not. Instead, somebody Katya just met gets to kiss her and touch her the ways Trixie wants to, needs to, when Trixie has been there all along. She feels tears well up in her eyes and does her best to swallow them down. If Katya saw her cry now that would be mortifying. She quickly checks for Sasha and Jinkx, neither of whom seem to pay her any attention. Good. Trixie decides to leave the club, go home, and cry a little in her bed. Her feet, however, seem stuck to the ground, and so she stays, watching Katya and Raja go on and on and on. Adore is holding a particularly high note when Katya shifts their positions and presses Raja against the bar, with their hands pinned against the counter.

Trixie watches, transfixed. Somewhere in her stomach a feeling besides hurt begins to rise and she swallows hard. Her eyes flutter close, blocking the scene in front of her and she replaces it with a similar scene. She’s in Raja’s position, one side pressed against the bar, one against Katya, held tightly in place, Katya’s body against hers, her lips on her skin. She is breathing harder, happy to indulge in order to chase the sadness away. She feels a tingling in her hands, slowly spreading over her body, and lets out a soft moan, inaudible over the music.

She opens her eyes just in time to see Katya taking Raja by the hand and leading them towards the restrooms.

This is happening.

Trixie is going home.

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