A shorter queen who I think might be East Asian struts out onstage. She’s dressed in a gold fringed sequin shift dress and her blond wig looks like it could potentially be half her body weight. “Welcome, welcome, welcome to amateur night!” she sings into the microphone.

“I just got chills,” says Alex.

Hannah whoops loudly, catching us all off guard.

“You know her?” I ask.

She smiles slightly, and it’s too dark to see if she’s blushing, but the way she covers her cheeks with her hands makes me think that she is. “Lee’s an old friend.”

I shove her shoulder. I can’t believe I never knew. This may be my first drag show, but I’ve definitely heard of Lee. She’s a West Texas legend. “You buried the lede here, Hannah!”

She shrugs. “I didn’t want to get y’all excited in case she wasn’t here. I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “Besides, it’s been a little while. She might not even remember me.”

“You’re not very easy to forget,” I whisper to her.

She takes a big sip of water from her plastic cup, searching for anything to do besides respond to me, and even though Hannah likes to pretend she’s an old gay pro, I can tell this night means something for her too.

“But first,” Lee says. “Y’all know I’ve got to christen the stage with a song. Dale, give me something to work with. And last call to sign up for tonight’s main event! Sandra has the clipboard up at the bar.”

“Oh my God,” Kyle says. “You should totally sign up, Waylon. Give Pumpkin Patch time to shine.”

“Pumpkin Patch is currently on hiatus.” And then, because it strikes me as a possibility, I say to the entire table, “But I swear on Carmelo, RuPaul, Lady Bunny, Divine, and every other drag icon imaginable, I will kill any of you if you even dream of signing me up without my express permission.”

Clem nods solemnly and Kyle’s lower lip protrudes in a pout.

Lee turns her back to the crowd and begins to shake her hips on beat with the opening notes of Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!”

“Let’s go, girls!” The whole bar, myself included, sings along. I don’t even need to close my eyes to easily imagine myself up on that stage.

After Lee’s song, the bartender runs the clipboard up to the stage. “Ahhh,” says Lee. “A few new names and a few old. Let’s kick this off right, y’all, with a dear friend of the Hideaway and everyone’s favorite pizza restaurateur by day, Peppa Roni! Show ’em what you got, Peppa!”

A short, round queen steps onstage and I can quickly imagine what Peppa might look like out of drag, a graying gentleman with a receding hairline and a potbelly. But here, Peppa Roni is basically a living tribute to Miss Piggy herself.

Peppa performs Madonna’s “Like a Virgin,” followed by a surprisingly touching rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” that has me dabbing my eyes before any tears ruin my makeup.

The night is full of ups and downs. Some performers are absolutely tragic and have me drowning in secondhand embarrassment, while others are so good they make me wish I had the courage to get right up there on that stage with them. There’s lip-synching, dancing, and even a little bit of comedy.

Dollar bills fly when each of the queens makes the rounds in the audience. During an especially memorable performance of Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood” from a muscled and tattooed queen named Snicker Doodle, Snicker focuses in on our table and reaches for me, cupping my chin as she lip-synchs. I feel my whole body being drawn in by her and for a brief moment, it’s like this whole night was orchestrated for me and me alone.

After the show and once a queen (Peppa Roni) has been crowned, I search for the bathrooms.

“Line starts here,” says an older man in a purple silk shirt with the kind of jeans my dad would call “dress jeans.”

“Thanks,” I say, and line up behind him.

“First time?” he asks.

I smile nervously. “Is it that obvious?”

“Nah. Just the kind of place where a new face stands out.”

“Well, I plan on coming back,” I inform him, even though it’s something I’ve only just now decided for myself.

The bathroom lines aren’t defined by gender, but they are equally long, so I just choose one and wait.

Finally, I make it to the front of the line and do my business as quickly as possible. When I walk back out, I collide head-on with someone a little bit taller than me. “Sorry,” I mumble.

And then someone tugs on my hand. It’s Hannah. “There you are,” she says. “Come on. I want to introduce you to Lee.”

I look over my shoulder to see who it was I ran into, and heading for the exit with a sudden sea of people between us is Tucker Watson, a slight grin on his lips. He is immediately swallowed up by the darkness of the parking lot, but for half a second, our eyes lock.

I just—did I really just see Tucker Watson? Here? “I’ll be there in a minute,” I tell Hannah.

She grasps my hand firmly. “Oh, no you don’t. This place is a mess of people and I’m not about to make Lee wait.”

“But—” Anything I might have said is lost to the buzz of the crowd. My brain won’t stop replaying that single moment on a loop. Tucker Watson. In a gay bar.

Hannah leads me and Clem down a narrow hallway behind the stage, where a tall white man in leather pants, a tank top, and a leather jacket stands guard.

“Hey, Dale,” says Hannah.

The beefcake man known as Dale takes Hannah in a hug, momentarily sweeping her off her feet. “I thought that was you,” he says. “Where’s your whole crew?” he asks.

Hannah blushes and reaches for Clem’s hand. “I wanted to bring my girlfriend—”

Dale holds a hand out for Clem. “Did our little Hannah just say she has a girlfriend? Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Dale, the man behind the queen.”

Hannah beams at the phrase our little Hannah. This is all very sweet, but it’s taking every bit of self-control I have not to run back out there and track Tucker down.

Clem curtsies. “Clementine, and this is my twin brother, Waylon.”

Dale turns his attention to me. “Oh, Lee’s going to love you both. Y’all come on in.” Dale pushes the door open and calls out, “Lee, honey, are you decent?”

“Am I ever?” Lee pipes back.

“You’ve got some . . . younger visitors, my dear. Keep it PG-13.”

Lee gives a gruff chuckle. “Y’all enter at your own risk.”

The three of us file in with Hannah leading the way.

Lee gives a shriek at the site of Hannah and pulls her in for a hug. Hannah lets out a goofy laugh and squeezes her eyes shut tight as Lee holds her closely. It’s a good hug. You can tell. I’m jealous. Her presence is enough to make me forget about Tucker for just a moment.

After their reunion, Clem and I both introduce ourselves.

“Oh, y’all have a seat,” Lee says, and the three of us squeeze into a dusty old plaid love seat while Dale perches on Lee’s makeup counter.

“This place is incredible,” I say, looking around at this haven of a dressing room with an entire wall dedicated to wigs from floor to ceiling and another wall reserved for all things costuming, from dresses to sewing machines to bolts of fabric.