And then his voice is rolling out over the audience, and there is actual hooting and hollering. Katherine takes a deep breath and steps out onto the stage to even more whooping. Nevaeh and I peer through the gap in the curtain to watch, whooping along with the crowd when she spins the hoop into motion around her waist. They cheer every move, but when she whips her right arm out gracefully and the hoop spirals to her gloved wrist and spins there in frantic circles as she bites, one by one, the fingertips of her other glove to strip it off in one smooth motion, there are actual howls.

It goes too fast. Katherine bows to wild applause at the end of her performance and springs backstage into Nevaeh’s arms, absolutely incandescent and giddy. She jumps back out in her tap shorts and pretty bra to demonstrate hula-hooping to the whoops and applause and surprise of the crowd, takes a bow, comes back for another bow and another. Then Nevaeh, sent off with a kiss on the cheek from Katherine. She struts into the light, tipping her hat to an audience that wolf whistles with approval, calling her name when she whips off her coat, but when she starts flicking open the buttons on her shirt, they start to lose it completely. Someone shouts “Fuck yeah!” when she tosses it into the crowd. They’re totally in love with her onstage, heartbroken when she leaves them, comes back to us to bury her face in Katherine’s neck and squeeze my hand tight, laughing wildly, overcome by the noise and the glee, and it’s absolute magic. She jumps back out to kick-ball-step across the stage, bantering with Jack. Katherine is peering around the curtain. So much laughter, and then a roar, and she’s breathless, laughing too.

And now the audience is waiting for me. I hear Jack’s voice, and I catch Katherine’s and Nevaeh’s eyes, glittering bright, buoyed up by that spirit that takes you over when you know you have just had the performance of your life.

I am frozen. I am iced over. I am a solid brick of fear.

The audience is white noise.

Nevaeh takes my hands. She waits until I look at her. She bends close to say in my ear, “You got Angles, Addiebear. You got this.”

I squeeze her hands tight. I kiss Katherine’s cheek. “Knock them dead,” she says, seizing me in a fierce hug. I straighten up, yelp when Nevaeh slaps my butt, and laugh.

“Friends…” Finally, Jack’s familiar voice booms over the microphone, warm and rich, settling my nerves and silencing any murmuring, throat clearing, laughing. “Let’s put our hands together for the ravishing, delightful, delicious, diverting dance sensation, Arabesque L’Amour!”