Chapter Nineteen Clover

Chapter Nineteen Clover

Saturday afternoon, December 16, 2023

Clover had never texted so much in her life. If she wasn’t texting Hailey, she was texting Dee and Leilani, or Mo, or even

Gillian, until eventually she was added to their group chat, the type of thing Clover had studiously managed to avoid her

entire adult life. It was also the first time she’d ever wished she had a smartphone, since everyone seemed to be commenting

with emojis that wouldn’t load properly or GIFs that took ages for her to download. In what now seemed to be a past life,

she would have never understood the need for that much interaction or attention, but it didn’t feel like needless distraction

anymore. Now it merely felt like connection. A togetherness with a world outside her head and outside her home that she didn’t

know she’d wanted.

She scrolled through the photos her friends had taken through the past week, taking in her own scrunched eyes and wide grin. She could guess how many drinks she’d had based off how big her smile was, and then one photo in particular caught her eye. It was her and Hailey, shoulder to shoulder, mouths open, eyes closed, arms crossed over each other as they pretended to hold mics and scream into them. Clover hit save. Then the phone vibrated again:

Gillian: Jupiter’s tonight?

Mo: YES YES YES YES

Dee: I think that’s a yes.

Mo: YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES

Clover: What is Jupiter’s?

Dee: Super gay. Much Christmas.

Gillian: Basically.

Lei: Jupiter’s is a gay speakeasy, but they’re having a burlesque Christmas show tonight.

What the hell is a burlesque Christmas show? Clover thought.

Hailey: You want to come, Clove?

Mo: COME COME COME COME COME

Gillian: Oh my god, please say yes.

Clover: ...yes?

Clover closed her messages just as half a dozen WHOO messages from Mo came through. She was excited to hang out with her friends, but especially to see Hailey. She couldn’t help

thinking about the conversation she’d had with Dee and Leilani a few nights before, about Hailey being single “for now.” It

seemed like Clover had only a small window for fate to make its move, and she wanted to make it count. After all, apparently,

burlesque indicated that there would be multiple barely dressed performers, and while she was sure they were talented, Clover

wanted to be sure that the only person Hailey wanted to pay attention to was her.

Three YouTube videos later, Clover looked at her handiwork. Her normally unremarkable eyelashes looked thicker and longer,

and her brown eyes popped against her black liner. Her eyelids sparkled, her cheeks glowed, and her lips were soft and shiny.

A few hours after that, Clover found her friends standing in a long line outside of the speakeasy, each of them well-dressed for the event. “Ho ho ho,” Mo said as they pulled Clover into a tight hug that lifted her off the ground. They were essentially wearing a tailored velvet Santa suit and a red fedora that they wore cocked to the side. Leilani wore an off-the-shoulder white dress with striped candy cane stockings, while Dee wore a simple dark green suit jacket with a deep red tie over black jeans. Gillian completed the troupe, donning black leather pants with a black leather vest over brown pasties that covered her nipples.

She winked at Clover, and Clover hid her blush. They did all say this was a burlesque Christmas show. She supposed it was only a taste of what she was about to experience.

She looked around. Where was Hailey?

“Hailey said she’s running late,” Leilani whispered to her as if reading her mind. She gave Clover an apologetic smile, and

Clover waved her off.

“Oh, of course. So, how long is the wait? For the speakeasy, I mean.”

“No idea,” Gillian said. “It’s supposed to be, like, a whole experience. Some dapper dude is gonna keep coming out every few

minutes, take everyone’s phone and put them in one of those faraday bags, and then—”

“Shh, Gill, don’t tell her!” Dee said exasperatedly. “Let her experience the fun herself!”

Gillian rolled her eyes and shrugged. “You’ll see,” she said to Clover.

A few minutes later, they finally made their way to the front of the line, and a Black woman with her locs tightly twisted into two braids on either side of her head greeted them. She wore reindeer antlers and a slick 1920s-esque suit. It was only if you looked hard enough that you could tell that the suit was also in the Christmas spirit, as it was a deep, deep green with a dark red bow tie, not unlike the outfit Dee was wearing, except the colors were so dark that they seemed black without the single bulb of light that cast a soft glow on the six of them. When Clover glanced down, she realized the woman’s heels were six-inch stilettos.

The woman checked each of their IDs, then led them inside a small, cramped room with a bookshelf to one side. Just as Gillian

had said, the woman took each of their phones and put them in their own faraday bag. “If you need to make a call, you can

take the phone out in the hallway, where the bathrooms are. If you take it in the bar, you’ll be asked to leave.” She asked

each of them for their verbal consent and understanding, and then pressed a button to her side. The bookshelf turned, and

when the woman ushered them through, they walked into a dimly lit bar that was much bigger than it had looked from the outside.

People dressed in varying levels of dapper, glamorous, or risqué were spread out across the floor. Some people were huddled

in groups or at their tables, talking over drinks, while others watched the stage, where an East Asian woman in an elf costume

was currently doing the splits and then demonstrating shocking core strength as she shifted onto her forearms and kicked her

legs up and over her head, essentially flipping onto the chair she’d placed nearby. Kelly Clarkson’s rendition of “Merry Christmas

Baby” played in the background.

“You’re practically drooling,” Clover heard a voice say from behind her. She knew that voice.

“Beth?”

“Yeah. Hi.” Beth gave Clover one of her usual slow and appraising gazes, her lips quirking up slightly. “Wow. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” Clover said confidently, though she could feel that familiar vibration in her chest every time Beth was near. “You

do too.”

And of course she did. Beth always looked good—and not just good. Precise. Tonight she was wearing a simple wraparound dress with a thin gold chain that complemented her dark brown skin and gold wire

earrings that looked like Santa’s sleigh. It was a whimsical detail that Clover was surprised to see on Beth—but then again,

she was surprised to see Beth at all.

“What are you doing here?”

Beth raised her eyebrow. “They do this every year. It’s sort of the place to go if you’re queer and even remotely interested in holiday cheer.” She took a deep breath and cleared her throat.

“Could I buy you a drink?”

Clover resisted the urge to point at herself. Is she asking me ? The last time they’d seen each other, Beth had all but suggested Clover had terrible fashion sense. Now, amid the glow of

yellow light and the slow, sultry beat of the performer’s music, this frustratingly stunning woman was offering Clover a drink.

She did save me from falling that night, she thought, and she said I was cute. Which is funny, because she’s gorgeous, but moody and extremely aggravating.

For the barest of moments, Clover thought she might say yes—because Beth was giving her the same look she’d given Clover that night at the holiday market. Like she was a painting worth admiring. It made Clover’s skin grow warm and her lips part. Suddenly, she was thinking about more than just one drink. But Clover was waiting for someone else— someone, she thought, she might’ve been waiting on for half her life.

“No, thank you,” Clover said, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that her answer should’ve been Hell yes .

“Clover! Over here!”

She felt someone grab her hand, and before she could protest, Dee dragged her to the table they’d found. Clover looked back,

but Beth was already lost in the crowd. She fought against disappointment, bringing herself to attention when she noticed

Hailey finally approaching them.

Hailey, who had her arm wrapped around another woman’s waist.

Clover felt the floor bottom out from beneath her.

“Hey, guys,” Hailey said brightly. The woman beside her was Latina, and wearing a knitted cap and a belly-baring white tank

top, with loose black sweats and beat-up sneakers. “Look who I found.”

Clover hoped it was just a friend, but Gillian’s sympathetic smile, paired with Leilani’s subtle hand on her shoulder, suggested

the exact opposite.

Hailey glanced at Clover and cleared her throat. “Clover, this is my, uh... Sherise. Sherise, this is Clover. The old high

school friend I told you about.”

Sherise took Clover’s hand and they exchanged stale greetings before Hailey hastily pulled Sherise toward the bar. As soon

as they were gone, Dee let out a long whistle and shook her head. “Not again.”

“They’ve been on and off for, like, three years,” Gillian muttered. “It is genuinely exhausting.”

“Didn’t Hailey just get back from Colorado, like, two days ago?” Mo said. “I thought she said Sherise told her it was done-done. For real this time.”

“You know queers don’t know how to break up,” Dee said. She stared at Hailey and Sherise canoodling at the bar and let out

a long, deep sigh. Then she turned her attention to Clover. “Okay, drink’s on me. What’ll you have? Or I can come up with

a great concoction for you. Whatever you like. You said you like whiskey?”

God, was she that obvious? “I’ll get my own drink,” Clover offered brusquely. She didn’t mean to be rude, but she needed to be alone. She needed

to get away. Clover felt dizzy, and she knew whiskey wouldn’t fix the problem. No. She’d have to drink ten shots to even begin

to disappear, and she wanted to fall into a hole right fucking now .

Only when she approached the bar did she realize her mistake, as she’d now have to watch, up close and personal, as Sherise

pulled Hailey into a deep kiss. She watched as Hailey’s fingers trailed down Sherise’s sides and then gripped the elastic

of her sweatpants, pulling her thin frame closer as Sherise’s arms wrapped around Hailey’s neck.

Clover was going to be sick. She knew it. She’d never felt more nauseated in her entire life. Or was it jealousy? Or stupidity?

She had no idea, but she was desperate for it to disappear, and fast.

“What are you having, sweetheart?” the bartender asked.

“Two shots of tequila. Please.” Clover slapped two twenty-dollar bills on the bar, and when she downed the first two, she

downed two more.

She wandered back to her group but couldn’t stay still. Even as her friends whooped and hollered at the performances onstage, she found herself unable to focus. She’d thought the past few days had been building up to something special, that she’d gotten the second chance she’d always hoped for, or that she thought she’d hoped for. But this wasn’t a love story, an adorable meet-cute of past lovers finding their way to each other again.

It was just Clover, all dressed up with no one to go home to.

“Clover, you want to take it easy?” Gillian asked. Clover wondered why. How many shots had she had at this point? She could

still stand, so clearly not enough. She started back to the bar, but Mo caught the back of her shirt.

“Hey, friend,” they said gently. “Why don’t we get you a cab home?”

They were right, of course. Of course, they were right. Clover was getting too drunk, too messy, and she barely knew any of

these people. They shouldn’t have to take care of her. No one should. She turned back, looking for a bathroom or some place

to collect her thoughts, but there it was again: a perfect view of Hailey and Sherise, this time pressed against each other

in the corner by the bathroom, hands beneath each other’s shirts, lips on every available piece of skin.

Sifting through her drunken thoughts, Clover mumbled that she was going to the bathroom, but really, she didn’t want to be

followed. Instead, she waited until she was out of sight of her friends, and then she stumbled through the hallway, only vaguely

noticing someone calling her name as she went through the back exit.

The second she felt the chill of the air on her skin, the dam she’d been holding back broke through, and she collapsed against the wall, tears ruining the makeup she’d worked so damn hard to put on.

“Hey,” she heard someone say. Her watery memory formed a name: Beth. “Let’s get you home.”

“I’m okay.” Clover’s voice wavered, and Beth scoffed.

“You’re not. Clearly. I know the way. We’ll take my car. I’ll get your phone.” Clover tried to protest, but Beth was already

holding her wrist, gently guiding her away from the wall and toward a car parked on the side of the street.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Clover asked, just as another sob hit her.

Beth frowned as she opened the passenger seat and then, once Clover was settled, pulled the seat belt across her lap. “Why

wouldn’t I be?”

That was an acceptable enough response for her very drunk brain. Clover closed her eyes as the car started and the world spun.

The last thing she remembered was being led to Bee’s bed and then the front door of the condo clicking shut.

“Don’t leave,” she whispered, but Beth had already gone.