My first set was to Pat Benatar’s “Heartbreaker.” When the chorus came, when Pat screamed the title word, my heart literally broke. Well, not my heart so much as a fake-blood pouch in my chest. Just took a couple of squeezes of a pump inside my glove and, presto, spurting redness, which quickly stained and saturated my white dress. I looked like Carrie, post bucket dump. The crowd went wild. Me, I tore off the stage, gushing all the while. Pat would’ve been proud. Or horrified. Maybe a bit of both.
I had to quickly get undressed. Lucy was on next, Bobo after her. Mora and I found ourselves alone in the dressing room.
“Huh,” she huhed.
“Nice to see you, too.”
She tilted her head. “Is it?”
I shrugged. “The kiss was nice.”
She smiled. “Always was.” She unsmiled. “But that kiss wasn’t fo
