Chapter 44

Testosterina, a convincing Reba McEntire, taps my back in passing. “You okay with standing room?”

“Thanks for getting me in, Teste,” I offer.

“Thank me when your knees lock.”

We pause for the raffle drawing. I check my tickets. I can’t read them in the haze from a fog machine, but it doesn’t matter; as usual, the announcement of the winners is inaudible. Then I offer, “Looks to be quite a show tonight.”

“That dressing room is like Showgirlswithout the judo.”

“I have a proposal for you, Teste.”

“Well, you’re something old, I’m the something new, I can borrow someone I blew.”

“Call me tomorrow.”

“You know it, Papa Bear. Look for me onstage at midnight if her fat ass doesn’t upend it.”