“Thanks for coming out and seeing me tonight,” Grant says after singing his third release, grinning at his audience. He talks about his album coming out and how he loves to sing. He mentions that he’s fortunate and blessed to be doing what he enjoys most, which is singing to make people feel good. He thanks his followers and fans, calling them his family. “I just want everyone to know that I couldn’t be where I’m at without your support. You guys have been great about buying my singles. All your help has put my career at an unbelievable pace that I enjoy.” He makes a toast to the audience regarding their faithfulness. After the toast, he says, “I’m going to take a short break now, but I’ll be back in a few minutes to sing a few covers.” He exits the stage and vanishes behind a black velvet curtain, probably needing to take a piss, wanting to empty his bladder.
“I love this guy,” King says, semi-drunk, having consumed too many shots of whiskey during Grant’s performance. His eyes are a little red as well as his cheeks. He turns his attention to Toby and says, “You know the guy is queer, right?”
“I do,” Toby replies, nodding. “You’ve told me everything about Grant Stevens.”
Bea chuckles while batting her beautiful eyes. The piece of arm candy whispers, “I know that David isn’t gay, but if he were, he’d be all over Grant, insatiable.”
Maybe not realizing what he says, King admits, “I have a man-crush on the guy and would do him.”
“Oh my God,” Bea says, and begins to snicker. She covers up her light laughter by taking a drink of her beverage, and acts as if she hasn’t added to the conversation.
Toby is just about to tell Bea that he finds her ridiculously sweet but a waitress that smells like lilacs places a glass tumbler on the table in front of him. The tumbler has two ice cubes inside, and two fingers’ worth of Jack Daniels, which Toby guzzles.
The waitress leans over, brushes her ruby red lips against his left ear, and whispers, “The drink is from Grant Stevens. Enjoy.”
This interaction leaves Toby speechless. He doesn’t know what to say, nor does he know how to feel. He likes whiskey, though, and takes a sip, watching the waitress float away.
King asks, “What did she say to you?” Both he and Bea are all eyes, intrigued by what has just occurred.
Toby points to the drink and says, “It’s from Grant. He bought me one to enjoy. Wasn’t that forward of him?”
King’s mouth is slightly ajar, probably more surprised than Toby. Because he is somewhat blitzed, he says, “Well fuck me sideways. Aren’t you an important little fag?”
Bea snickers again, obviously entertained this evening.
“I take what I can get,” Toby says, picks up the whiskey, consumes a sip, and places it back on the table, happy with this evening’s events thus far, and having no idea what is in store for him next.