Page 1 of Drag Me Up

PROLOGUE

FIVE YEARS AGO

LocalUniversity Hockey Team Under Investigation

The championship hockey team from Tibalt University is in danger of being completely shut down after an incident last month involving an alleged sexual assault against a student from another school. Charges have been filed against six members of the team, including the Captain.

Authorities state the incident occurred at a house owned by a former member of the team, alumnus Andrew Streaker, on the night of March 17 during a celebration for the team ending their regular season with an all time record number of wins. Witnesses state that the level of intoxication by guests at this party was disproportionately high for the number of underage persons present.

Seventeen citations were issued for underage drinking that night, but there is no record of anyone over the age of twenty-one receiving any reprimand for supplying the alcohol.

The incident that prompted the actions against the team are concerning an individual who had zero alcohol in their system according to the toxicology screen at the hospital where they received treatment and evidence was collected for the authorities. Witnesses state that the victim went from being alert to incoherent in a matter of minutes and was carried to an upstairs room where several members of the hockey team entered and locked the door. About twenty minutes later, some said they heard a scream, and a few other students forced their way into the room.

Police were called to the scene and the victim was transported via ambulance to the hospital. At this time, the name of the victim has not been released, nor the full extent of their injuries.

We will update as more information becomes available.

Hockey Program Suspended

Tibalt University’s championship hockey program has been officially suspended under the weight of the allegations against the players, coaches, and alumni involved in the incident three months ago. During the investigation into the alleged sexual assault at a celebratory gathering,officials discovered a trail of evidence indicating illegal substance use, extreme hazing, and bribery of officials.

Following the breaking of the incident, sixteen other victims have come forward with allegations against various members of the team, including former teammates. University administration shut down the program and all staff have been placed on unpaid leave until the investigation is complete.

As for the members of the team, those not named in the incident or the related findings are allowed to remain enrolled at the school, but are put on disciplinary probation. Those who are named are not allowed to set foot on campus or contact any other student or staff member outside of email communication related to their current semester’s coursework. If found guilty, they will be expelled from the school and ineligible to attend any affiliated university in the future.

The first of the four trials regarding the incident in March is set to begin on Monday. We will be in the courtroom to bring you all of the information as it becomes available.

1

ERIC

“Have a good night, Sass!” Stacey’s voice calls out from the hallway. Stacey is one of the dayshift bartenders, so she doesn’t usually see the worst of what we can get at night. Plus, with her being assigned female at birth and identifying as cisgendered, she doesn’t really understand what we go through to have someone recoil when they realize you have a cock between your legs. Nothing kills the mood like finding out your date is actually a dick-phobic bigot, probably so deep in the closet he’s found a set of platforms with dead fish in the heel.

I wave absently in the direction of the door while I work on finishing the blending I need to do for my makeup. My look must beperfection. I will allow nothing less. The masculine falls away as the woman in the mirror emerges. Eric and all of his problems dissipate with each and every swipe of a brush or sponge across my face.

“Sassy, you’re up next,” Cleo says as she saunters intothe dressing area, breaking through my thoughts. “We’ve got you starting out with Britney tonight, since the elder millennial hooligans in the audience wouldn’t appreciate the newer stuff. Betty and Cici are doing Gaga and Mariah. We’re not touching any songs not old enough to drink tonight.”

Cleo Lee DeStarr is my Drag Mother. She brought me in, gave me a job, and showed me how to be my most fabulous self. Outside of the club, he is Clarence Wilson, my frenemy to the extreme. Clarence kind of saved my life by introducing me to Cleo and the world of drag. But it still doesn’t mean I have to like him…

Nodding to the queen in the mirror, I pull on my pigtail wig and stand to shimmy my way into the school girl outfit for the number. My makeup is already good enough to pull off two of the five Britney routines I can do, so I’ll glam it up for the finale after the second number while the other girls are doing their routines.

Tying the knot in the shirt to reveal my navel, I feel the calm settle into me. Performing is the only way for me to relax these days. The last few months since the trial have been harder than usual, but being on the stage means I’m Sassy… and she doesn’t have those memories.

Cleo blows me a kiss, and I flip her off before I flip my hair. I can’t help but notice the concern in her eyes, and it pulls me out of the tentative headspace I managed. I force a smile on my face, hoping she doesn’t recognize how fake it is. If she pulls me from the rotation tonight, I’m likely to go do something stupid to bury the memories again.

“Break a leg, Sugar,” she whispers to me as I sashay out the door to head to the stage.

After my second individual number, I wave to Tyson behind the bar when I come off the stage. I need a fucking drink. Friday nights are generally good nights when it comes to the clientele in the Monarch Room Dance Revue and Gay Club, also known as the Mr. Drag Club. Tonight must be a full moon or something because the tips are flowing like a stream in the Sahara, and the audience is full of dickheads with their borderline bigoted catcalls.

Walking the floor isnotgoing to be happening tonight. Most nights, I get a thrill and a much-needed dopamine rush from the cheering and adoration of the crowd. These guys, however, are more likely to send my mood six feet under like Lizzerati’s unfortunate bedazzled recorder routine. Malcolm is a fantastic dancer and choreographer, but a musician he is definitely not.

Plopping my slightly padded ass into a folding chair backstage, I grab the battery operated fan off the shelf. I wish I could just go back to the dressing room to change and go trolling, but I still have to do the group number to close out the show. Usually, I would go do a wardrobe change and show off my most fantabulous self for the grand finale. This sea of cocknozzles does not deserve my best after how they’ve been treating each of us on stage.

“You sticking around to play afterwards or are yougoing to head over to Pegasus?” Tyson asks as he sets my usual Sprite with a slice of lime on the shelf. “If you’re sticking around, maybe we can…”

I wave hurriedly at him to stop the question before he can fully say it. I’ve been flirting pretty heavily with the new bartender since he started in October, but I never shit where I eat. He’s proven that he is a great mixologist, and I can’t fuck things upagainfor the club. The last bartender rage quit during a huge bachelorette shindig after he figured out that I am not the kind of person who will do relationships. I told him we weren’t exclusive, but he somehow thought his cock was a magical cure-all for my issues or something. Cleo had to take the stage in order for Nick to tend the bar. The bride wasnothappy that Betty Whiteclaw didn’t take the stage.

“I don’t mess around with coworkers, Ty-baby,” I croon to him, trailing my nails down his very muscular and tantalizing arm.

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