Schweine

It’s a pleasant sight to see a respectful and mostly collected audience. All of the tables in the bar are crammed full of people with their eyes glued to the televisions. They screamed and cheered at their favourite queens and the best performances during the Talent Show. You’re Katya’s plus one for the viewing party of All Stars two; it’s one of the many perks of being her girlfriend. You’re at a table with two other men that seem to be more interested in each other than watching the show.

Katya is perched on a bar stool onstage half-turned from the audience to watch Tatianna perform. Her face is lit up in a breathtaking smile and she’s playing idly with a large, red fan in her lap. She’s dressed in her entrance look: a shiny, red mini dress with a high neckline, a hammer and sickle is branded across her chest in gold. Long, billowy sleeves are attached to her shoulders by garter clips. Her outfit is topped off with a red eye patch with a gold star on it, fishnet tights, and red pumps.

Her legs are crossed and one heel is bouncing anxiously as the judges start to give the girls feedback. The club erupts into a deafening boo as Michelle tears into Adore, Katya turns her head to look at the audience and nods sadly in agreement. Her eyes catch yours when she’s turning to look back to the television. Her gaze lingers and she gives you a smirk before flicking her long, curly, blonde hair over one shoulder to look up at the screen again. You blush and return your attention to the TV.

The episode ends and it’s obvious that there are some mixed reviews about the elimination. Everyone’s opinions are being shouted at the same time as the credits roll. The televisions get muted and Katya stands up off of her chair. She starts casually pacing the stage tapping her fan against the palm of her hand.

“Listen, someone had to go home first, alright?” The audience speaks up again incoherently, she holds up a hand and the voices die down. “But at least it wasn’t me.” She pops her fan and starts waving it in her face, the crowd laughs. She continues to answer questions and crack jokes. You watch as her hair bounces while she meanders across the stage, the stage lights shining off of her outfit. Every so often she looks at you and your heart skips a beat, her eyes are sparkling, relishing the energy of the room. She’s always so good with crowds and is a notorious extrovert, it makes your heart hurt.

“Okay, my mom’s here to pick me up now. If you leave here with anything at all let it be this little piece of advice: if he says it’s just a rash...it’s not a rash.” The audience howls with laughter while she’s waving the fan in her face, her long hair blowing out to the sides.

She waves to the crowd and everyone stands to cheer, she’s smiling brightly again before dipping behind the curtains. The couple at your table haven’t even noticed that the show is over; they’re so far down each other’s throats that you can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins. You shake your head flippantly and back yourself away from the table.

After the crowd dies down you sneak backstage and trot down the hallway to find her dressing room. None of the doors are labeled but as you come closer to one of the doors you hear pop music playing. You pause and listen at the door, the woman is singing in Russian. You turn the knob and enter without knocking.