Run To You

asked, “Of what?”
    “Of that guy who just came in. Standing next to the Elvis jumpsuit.”
    Stella glanced through the dimly lit bar to the white suit behind Plexiglas bolted to the wall across from her. Ricky claimed the suit had once belonged to Elvis, but Stella wouldn’t be surprised to discover it was as big a fake as the signed Stevie Ray Vaughn Stratocaster above the bar. “The guy in the baseball cap?”
    “Yeah. He reminds me of that G.I. Joe guy.”
    Stella reached into the refrigerator beneath the bar and grabbed a bottle of Bud Light. “What G.I. Joe guy?”
    Anna turned back to Stella, and the light above the bar caught in the green glitter in her lashes. “The one in the movie. What’s his name . . . ?” Anna raised a hand and snapped her fingers, careful not to snap off her green snakeskin nails. “Tatum . . . something.”
    “O’Neal?”
    “That’s a female.” She sighed as if Stella was hopeless. “He was also in my all-time favorite movie, Magic Mike .”
    Stella frowned and grabbed a chilled glass. Of course Anna loved Magic Mike .
    “I wanna bite him. He’s yummy.”
    Stella glanced at the orders on the screen in front of her. She liked Anna, but the queen was a distraction. Distraction slowed her down. The bar was hopping, and slowing down cost money. “Magic Mike?”
    “The guy next to the Elvis suit.” A frown tugged at the corners of Anna’s shiny green lips. “Military. I can tell just by the way he’s leaning against the wall.”
    Stella removed the bottle cap and set it and the glass next to the wine on a tray. A waitress dressed as a zombie Hello Kitty whisked the tray away. Out of all the men in the bar, Stella wondered how Anna noticed the guy standing across the bar. He was dressed in black and blended into the shadows.
    “He’s straight. A real hard-ass,” Anna answered as if she’d read Stella’s mind. “And so on edge he’s about to explode.”
    “You can tell all that from here?” Stella could hardly make out his outline as he leaned one shoulder into the lighter wood of the wall. She wouldn’t have noticed him at all if Anna hadn’t pointed him out. Just one more unsuspecting tourist who’d wandered in off the street. They didn’t usually stay long once they figured out they were surrounded by queens and every other flavor of the rainbow.
    Anna raised a hand and made a circle with her big palm. “It’s in his aura. Straight. Hard-ass. Hot sexual repression.” Her lips pursed around the straw and she took a sip of her drink. “Mmm.”
    Stella didn’t believe in auras or any of the woo-woo psychic stuff. Her mother believed enough for both of them and her grandmother was a staunch woo-woo follower. Abuela was into miracles and Marian apparitions and claimed to have once seen the Virgin Mary on a taco chip. Unfortunately, Tio Jorge ate it before she could put it in a shrine.
    “I think I’ll go say hey. You’d be surprised how many straight men troll for queens.”
    Actually, she wouldn’t. She’d worked at Ricky’s too long to be surprised by much. Although that didn’t mean she understood men. Gay or straight or anywhere in between. “Could be he is a tourist and just wandered in.”
    “Maybe, but if there’s one bitch to turn a straight man, it’s Anna Conda.” Anna lowered her drink. “G.I. Joe needs to be thanked for his service, and I’m suddenly feeling patriotic.”
    Stella rolled her eyes and took an order from a heavyset man with a thick red beard. She poured the Guinness with a perfect head and was rewarded with a five-dollar tip. “Thank you,” she said through a smile, and stuffed the bill into the small leather pouch tied around her hips. She had a tip jar, too, but she liked to empty it regularly. There had been too many times when drunks had helped themselves.
    She glanced at Anna heading across the bar, blue and green lights blinking in her size thirteen acrylic heels with each step she took.
    Roy Orbison’s iconic “Pretty Woman” rocked the bar’s speakers as Penny Ho strutted the short stage in thigh-high boots and blue-and-white hooker dress, looking remarkably like Julia Roberts. Apparently, “Pretty Woman” was popular among drag queens and tiara tots.
    Over the next hour, Stella poured shots, pulled drafts, and gave the martini shakers a workout. By one-thirty, she’d changed out of her four-inch pumps and into her Doc Martens. Even with the thick cushion of the floor matting, her feet had not