Page 3 of The Cinderella Prince

The door of this place was wide open, and scents of fresh food wafted out. Like a cartoon child floating toward a hot pie cooling on a window, Ifound myself in the dim interior of this strange place. Brick, wood, mounted lamps, large, industrial lightbulbs hanging bare over the bar, and wooden tables with mismatched chairs and colorful sitting cushions were only just the beginning. Decorations were pastel and light, in stark contrast with the underground interior.

“Welcome, welcome,” a drag queen wearing a purple wig and red sequin dress said. A wave of anxiety rocked me as I assumed she knew my face, but then I noticed a small group of young men wearing all sorts of things, from casual suits and sneakers to crop tops and very short denim shorts and wheeling on Rollerblades instead of shoes.

“Hello, Mama Vivien,” one said, glitter practically exploding from every move he made.

This is the kind of stuff I only ever saw on TV, I thought as the eclectic bunch walked and wheeled past me. I stood, dumbfounded, as the boys flocked around the curvy drag queen with intricate makeup framing her eyes.

“Out with you,” the queen said. “Out, out there, in the back.” She pointed a very long acrylic nail in the direction of a door leading to a hidden terrace. I spotted a stage in the back of the bar, although it wasn’t lit currently. Around the interior part, pushed against the walls, weren’t just tables with three or four chairs each. There was a sofa with armchairs around it and a longer table, elsewhere was an ottoman with a small, round table before it, and there were taller tables with barstools instead of regular chairs here and there.

The drag queen ushered the boys to the terrace in the back, then turned to me. “You must be here for our brunch, darling,” the queen said.

“Er…no, I…” But before I could state my purpose, she lifted a hand politely to stop me talking and gazed at the door. A guy near my age stumbled into the bar, his dark hair falling over his brow and eyes, his feet tripping over one another. He carried a stack of pink boxes that made the queen exhale dramatically and get as close to a run as her heels allowed her. The young man, however, straightened bravely, the pink boxes leaning against the side of his head, his face turned in my direction.

He was breathtaking.

Dark curls had nothing on the bulging biceps that were on full display. Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was the wild hair over his handsome face that made my heart miss a beat. When he smiled at something the drag queen was saying, a pair of pronounced dimples emerged on his face. His shiny teeth must have been getting a better treatment than whatever bready paste I had used on mine this morning. And his gaze was as clear and sharp as lasers when he lifted it off the stone-tiled floor. “You never said there were eight boxes, Lady Vivien.”

“Oh, but darling, we have a terrace full of guests. I fear eight won’t be enough,” the drag queen exclaimed as the young man put the pink boxes on the counter. The queen waved someone over, who hurriedly began distributing the pink boxes.

Relieved, the guy ran a hand through his curly locks, revealing his high cheekbones and perfect eyebrows. His face was glowing with heat. If he had noticed me in that one instant when his gaze had crossed the room while unloading the boxes, he didn’t search for me now.

“Are you joining us?” the drag queen—Lady Vivien,apparently—asked. She produced a red fan from somewhere and flipped it open, fanning the guy.

“I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’m late for my run, and it’s getting hot.”

“Try as you might, youwilllove Tina Turner,” the drag queen said as though threatening the guy.

“I’ll see you tonight at the party,” the handsome guy said, giving the queen a kiss on the cheek before spinning away from her and facing the exit.

“You better get here before the crowd does, young man,” the queen said in an oddly motherly tone. To that, the guy just laughed melodically and waved. Before his laughter died down, he was outside.

Lady Vivien smoothed her red dress, and then, turning, she remembered me. “All are welcome in Neon Nights, darling. Make yourself comfortable.”

“I was just wondering,” I said. “Is this a private event?”

The queer lifted her chin defiantly. “There’s no such thing as privacy in here, darling.”

I laughed bitterly. That was one thing I needed in my life, even if it was just a moment. I might be a petulant boy to some, but I was desperate to be away from my family, even if it was for a short few days.

The queen extended her arm in the direction of the terrace. I shrugged to myself and followed the way she pointed for me. With her trailing me, I stepped onto the terrace that was framed by the walls of different buildings, light pouring from above, shielded by a net canopy from which colorful lanterns and lightbulbs hung. The red brick-paved ground was cluttered with many tables and various kinds of chairs. Some tables, those that were pushed closerto the walls, were long, wooden ones with benches accompanying them; others were wrought iron and glass. There wasn’t a matching pair of anything in this place. Potted plants enriched the surroundings, many of which towered taller than I would have imagined.

“And what would you like to drink, darling? We have bottomless mimosas, sparkling rosé, Drag-tinis, rainbow slushies with vodka…” She counted each on an acrylic nail.

“Is Lavander Lemonade alcoholic?” I asked after glancing at the menu.

“Unfortunately, no,” the queen apologized.

“I’ll have that,” I said with a smile, barely able to stifle a laugh. “And there’s food?”

“This is your first brunch?” Lady Vivien asked. When I nodded, she beamed a welcoming smile. “I can bring you the menu, but I would recommend Quiche Lorrainbow, Benedict Royale, Avocado on Toast Extravaganza, or fruit salad.” She put emphasis on “fruit” as if signaling a deeper meaning. It took me a moment to understand the pun.

My stomach growled, and I picked Quiche Lorrainbow, whatever that might be.

“It’s on its way,” the queen said. “I’m so pleased to have you in my little establishment. And if you need anything else, just cry for Mama Viv.”

My lips stretched into a smile on their own as I nodded my gratitude. Then, just before the queen turned away, I inhaled. “Did I hear it correctly? There’s a party here tonight?”

“There is,” Mama Viv, or whatever her name was, said mysteriously. “We’re never far from a party around here, darling.”

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