I look over my shoulder to see who it was I ran into, and heading for the exit with a sudden sea of people between us is Tucker Watson, a slight grin on his lips. He is immediately swallowed up by the darkness of the parking lot, but for half a second, our eyes lock.

I just—did I really just see Tucker Watson? Here? “I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell Hannah.

She grasps my hand firmly. “Oh, no you don’t. This place is a mess of people and I’m not about to make Lee wait.”

“But—” Anything I might have said is lost to the buzz of the crowd. My brain won’t stop replaying that single moment on a loop. Tucker Watson. In a gay bar.

Hannah leads me and Clem down a narrow hallway behind the stage, where a tall white man in leather pants, a tank top, and a leather jacket stands guard.

“Hey, Dale,” says Hannah.

The beefcake man known as Dale takes Hannah in a hug, momentarily sweeping her off her feet. “I thought that was you,” he says. “Where’s your whole crew?” he asks.

Hannah blushes and reaches for Clem’s hand. “I wanted to bring my girlfriend—”

Dale holds a hand out for Clem. “Did our little Hannah just say she has a girlfriend? Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Dale, the man behind the queen.”

Hannah beams at the phrase our little Hannah. This is all very sweet, but it’s taking every bit of self-control I have not to run back out there and track Tucker down.

Clem curtsies. “Clementine, and this is my twin brother, Waylon.”

Dale turns his attention to me. “Oh, Lee’s going to love you both. Y’all come on in.” Dale pushes the door open and calls out, “Lee, honey, are you decent?”

“Am I ever?” Lee pipes back.

“You’ve got some . . . younger visitors, my dear. Keep it PG-13.”

Lee gives a gruff chuckle. “Y’all enter at your own risk.”

The three of us file in with Hannah leading the way.

Lee gives a shriek at the site of Hannah and pulls her in for a hug. Hannah lets out a goofy laugh and squeezes her eyes shut tight as Lee holds her closely. It’s a good hug. You can tell. I’m jealous. Her presence is enough to make me forget about Tucker for just a moment.

After their reunion, Clem and I both introduce ourselves.

“Oh, y’all have a seat,” Lee says, and the three of us squeeze into a dusty old plaid love seat while Dale perches on Lee’s makeup counter.

“This place is incredible,” I say, looking around at this haven of a dressing room with an entire wall dedicated to wigs from floor to ceiling and another wall reserved for all things costuming, from dresses to sewing machines to bolts of fabric.