Oot

So I wiz oot hittin’ the clubs wae ma besto Tammy. We were at the Rusty Nail cause the music’s gid and the lads dinnae try and touch us up, but anyways, a saw this woman in the middle of the dance floor. I mean, I can admire a lassie’s good looks and aw that but this yin was like WOWZA.

I couldnae take ma eyes aff her. Her big knockers were shoved into this sparkly dress, lookin’ like a pair’a disco balls. And by god she couldnae half dance. I WANT her, like I’ve never wanted a woman in aw ma life. But naw! I shouldnae WANT her, I’m a straight woman, with a straight boyfriend. I cannae be into girls, can I? It’s the drink. It hus tae be the drink. Why do I feel like I want to flirt wae her, dance aw saucy wae her, snog her? I’ve never gone aw lesbian when I’m pished. It must be the Midoori.

“D’ye want a drink, Molly-hen?” Tammy asks me.

I yell something like, “Geez another Midoori and lemonade” as I walk up tae the hottie oan the dancefloor.

I dance up tae her, compliment her oan her amazing hair when she turns roon tae face me.

She wiz a man! And no jist any man, MY MAN, Gaz. Gaz? He wiz wearin’ his sister’s dress and aw. Is he… naw, he canny be. He canny be… gay can he? Why would he lead me on? His mam and da?

God love them, but they’re backwards bastards. They hate gays tae fuck. They think they’ll catch HIV being in the same room as a gay man. Jesus! Am a just a fuckin’ front tae Gaz? The stupit, clueless wee wifey? Does he even mean it when he’s sayin’ he loves me? Yet here he wiz, usin’ ma makeup and drinkin’ some fruity wee cocktail to bum random men in the loos?! And he hus the cheek tae tell me he’s lookin’ after oor dug! Ma heed wiz spinnin’, and I wiz ready tae strangle him.

“Gaz!” I shouted. His face fell. Caught red handed. “A word!” I indicated to the door, and we headed oot.

We walked past the bouncer, and the wind blew aboot my hair and his wig. Gaz looks like he’s aboot to greet.

“Whit the fuck is goan on Gaz?”

“It’s… it’s no what it looks like.” Whimpered Gaz, his glossy lip quiverin’, tears runnin’ doon his face.

“Well whit is it then?”

“I’m no the man you think I am.”

I fumed, “That’s apparent ya great poof.”

“I’m no gay, Molly.”

Another ladyboy clatters out the door and comes towards us. “Gabriella!”

Gaz turns around. The drag queen came out to see us, “It’s my fault hen.” She said to me, “I wanted to take her on her first night out as a lady. She… was going to tell you, soon after.”

She? My man… isnae a man? I looked across at his drag queen friend, and then back at Gaz, completely dumbfounded.

“You’re… Gabriella now?” I asked him.

“I’ve- I’ve always been Gabriella.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“My parents… my whole family would disown me. And I could lose you. I love you, Molly.”

“I thought you were an actual…naw, course you’re an actual woman but… I thought you were a different woman, and a damn hot wan, tae.”

Gabriella beamed at me, “You think I’m a beautiful woman?”

I smile and nod, “Aye. I jist wished you’d told me. Ye know I love ye, no matter whit.”

At this point, Tammy came out. She took one look at Gabriella, and said, “Fucks sake Gaz, you look better in that than I dae!”

I look at my girlfriend. She looks at me. We look at her drag queen friend.

We burst oot laughin’.

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Jen Hughes is a writer from Ayrshire, Scotland. She has been furiously scribbling ideas and writing elaborate stories from as early as age seven. She has been published in a wide variety of online journals and magazines such as the Pulp Metal Magazine, Idle Ink, McStorytellers and Ogivile Press; as well as having read out at various open mike and spoken word events in her area. Her up-to-date portfolio of short stories, flash fictions and poems can be found on her website www.jenhugheswriter.com. Jen is currently studying English Literature and Film &TV Studies in Glasgow.