Page 1 of Temptation at Randy's

ONE

Arlene

Icouldn’t believe I was doing this.

Damned cork board.

Damned Dylan, too. The moment I’d mentioned the ad for a trans munch at Randy’s, he’d been all over me. He’d turned it into a bet, too, because having shared a townhouse for two years now meant he knew all the ways to get me. I could be competitive.

Of course, he just happened to have a gig today, of all days. If he wasn’t such a bad liar, I would’ve pointed out how convenient it was that he couldn’t go with me. He probably did have a gig, though.

The staff at the diner had shoved a few tables together toward one of the walls, probably to avoid interfering with the flow of regular customers. The munch was RSVP-only, but most of the seats were taken already. I sneaked in to get one by a corner. I imagined the center of the elongated table would be more overwhelming. I already felt overwhelmed enough, my skin buzzing with nerves.

Dylan—and my family—disagreed, but I didn’t think I was any good at social situations. Dylan joked that I was a shy sunshine. I supposed it was true.

Shy was the keyword here.

At least I’d already written down my order when I RSVP’d so I didn’t have to ask for a Mouthful of Cookie in front of the dozen people here. I would probably implode.

It was the only drawback of Randy’s. They’d gone a little out there with the names of some of the items in their menu. Still, I’d fallen in love with the diner the second I’d seen the pink and blue lighting. Walking in for the first time had literally eased the knots in my upper back. It had felt like community in a way I’d only heard of online. A feeling I’d long ago given up on, accepted as a myth or an urban legend.

But… No. It existed at Randy’s.

“Hey!”

Shit.

I brought a hand to my chest. One would think that after more than twenty years of people scaring me by simply occupying a space, I’d have a better handle of it.

I did not.

“Hi.” There was no way my smile didn’t reveal how nervous I was, but I tried.

“It’s your first munch here, right? I’m Cin, they/them pronouns.”

Cin extended a perfectly manicured hand in my direction. I shook it out of sheer reflex. They were dressed in all black, giving goth, but they were too bubbly and happy looking. Granted, I couldn’t say I’ve been around many goths, so maybe bubbly, happy goths were the norm. It might’ve been kind of like that misconception about punks.

Sometimes I felt like I’d been too coddled growing up in comparison with most of the people I met at queer spaces.

“Yeah, I’m Arlene. She/her.”

It could get isolating.

“Love it.” Their smile was sincere, too. “Love the dress, too, by the way.”

They did?

I looked down at said dress. I always tended to feel self-conscious about my style when I met new people. They really looked sincere, though.

“Thanks. It has pockets.”

It reminded me of the cute dresses in old Hollywood movies. I wasn’t a fan of the blatant misogyny during that time, but the aesthetic kind of stuck with flowy dresses right above the knee, soft fabrics, and that feminine vibe.

Finding them was hard, but this one? With the addition of pockets? I was this close to buying it in every available color.

I could admit I had a problem.

“Work.” Cin winked. “I’m gonna go say hi to everyone, but let me know if you need anything, are uncomfortable, or… whatever, okay? I’ve got you.”

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