Page 1 of Cleats and Pumps

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Chapter 1 – Linc

"Comeagain?"Iaskedthe queen sitting across from me.

Everything about her unnerved me.

I thought about just walking out, but I’d been struggling with getting my latest break-up out of my head, and on a whim, I turned into the crystal shop, thinking it couldn’t hurt to have my cards or palm or, well, something read—any insight on how to exorcise theguyout of my life once and for all.

The queen's immaculate hair hung down, hiding half her face, but what I could see of her makeup made me think more gothic than drag princess. Her entire ensemble was black on black. The dress contoured to her body, not unlike what you’d expect to see on Morticia Addams. Feathers stood at attention on either side of her face, attached to the dress as if they had grown there.

All of that was accented by a cape with a shiny glean to it. I was totally creeped out by the thing as it seemed to move on its own accord.

"Young man, you heard me just fine,” she said, drawing me out of my assessment of her looks. “You express your gifts throughwriting songs. If you wish to exorcise the nasty little twink who dumped you, then you'll have to do so through music."

"Sure, got that, but writing a song about breaking up with a guy Taylor Swift style is one thing. Writing a musical is another."

The queen had yet to stop smiling, and it was beginning to make me twitch. "You will find healing through your music, and you write songs as fast as Dolly Pardon. If you want to exorcise your demons, or in this case, demon, you will have to work harder and in a genre you haven't worked in before. Now, if you are done, you should get to it."

"Wait, no, I paid you a thousand bucks. There's got to be more than that."

The queen laughed. "You paid for a reading and advice on what to do to remove your ex from your thoughts."

"Yeah, but what? We've been here thirty minutes tops."

"And what I needed to tell you has been said. Talking to me isn't going to get you where you need to go. Think of it as one of those games you kids like to play these days. This was phase one, meeting the old but fabulous crone."

I swallowed hard since that's precisely what I'd thought when I walked into the room at the back of the crystal shop and saw her sitting behind the table. Was she able to read my thoughts?

"I was hoping you'd be willing to give me more concrete advice."

She sighed, reached over, and took my hand. I felt power run through my body, and for the first time since walking in, I truly felt afraid. "You, child, are petulant and spoiled. I'm a soothsayer, a wise woman, not a therapist. I've told you exactly what you need to do to get to the next level, but I will tell you one more thing." She squinted at me, and for the briefest of moments, I’d swear her eyes turned black. "If you want to get from one level in life to the next, you must walk forward. Now, off with you. Tonight, you will dream, and the dreams will notbe pleasant, not after all the lip you've given me, but mark my words, by morning, you'll have the answers you seek."

She stood then, relief flowing through me with the broken contact. The black cape she'd been wearing flowed around her as she swirled out of the back of the room. I didn't see a door open. She simply disappeared.

Which is exactly what I was going to do. Unnerved, I quickly gathered my belongings, thankful I'd paid ahead, and went back into the magic crystal shop and out the front door. I don't know what she did to make me feel so weird, but I knew when to get the hell out of Dodge, and right now, everything in me said run.

I drove to the local gas station and pulled into a parking spot to clear my head and hopefully make my heart stop thumping.

Fucking Gregory Bashier—my ex. Why couldn't I forget him and move on? Hell, we’d only been together for six months. It’s not like we’d been married.

Before we met, I hadn't even fully accepted my bisexuality until I walked into The Queen's Cut in downtown Nashville to meet a Grindr hookup. I mean, okay, sure, I knew I liked dick—a lot. I also liked women. Tits are good, but you know… dick is better. Anyway, I'd just walked into the bar when this over-the-top drag goddess walked on stage.

She hadn't even started her routine before her eyes landed on me. The bitch smiled, and fuck if my heart didn't stumble. I didn't even meet my Grindr guy. The moment Megatcha Putsy, Greg's stage name, walked out, I was his and only his.

Too bad the hoe didn't think the same about me. No, I was just another plaything to knock around for fun.

Two months ago, Greg had kicked me to the curb. "You're too serious. I'm only twenty-two. I'm not looking to marry some old man."

Old? Like twenty-nine is old. Although, I did like it when Greg called me Daddy, especially if I was balls-deep inside him.

"Fuck," I said, shaking the thoughts of fucking his sweet tight ass out of my head. I needed to get him out of my system once and for all and screwing every drag queen in the city of Nashville had done nothing to make me want him less.

That's what led me to the crystal shop and the scary soothsayer.

My heart finally stopped banging, but the witch had scared me enough that I didn't want to get out of the car, even though a soda sounded good.

I ignored my craving and pulled out of the parking space. I didn't live far from downtown since most of my clients liked to meet around the country music spots. The soothsayer had been right. I was a prolific songwriter.

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