Ace of Hearts

The room had been fit to burst. Rowdy hen parties were all falling over each other, ordering cocktail after cocktail. Reluctant stag parties were standing at the bar, ignoring what was going on around them, hoping tonight's host wouldn't single them out of the audience and drag them kicking and screaming up to the stage to receive a comedy lap dance. Everyone within the room had one thing in common, they were intoxicated with the sweet liquid that was alcohol.

Madison Burton sat at the bar, perched on the edge of a stool. She had a glass clasped in her hand, filled to the brim with red wine. She had already downed a couple of glasses. It wasn't that she was drowning her sorrows, it was that she'd been here before. She wanted to die of embarrassment whenever her father entered the stage, dressed up to the nine's. This wasn't the life she often dreamed about as she lay in her comfortable bed, lost in a deep, peaceful slumber.

Her father pranced around the stage, his limbs orange with cheap fake tan, he batted his extravagant false eyelashes, and pouted his red painted lips. He fluffed up his dark wig, styled in luxurious curls. He danced around to the latest Beyonce song, shaking his bum around, the fat hidden beneath the protective barrier of skin wobbled with each move he made.

Truth be told, Christopher Dean Burton, or known as Madam Christina amongst his adoring fans at the drag show, was past it. When Madison was six or seven years old, and Christopher's body was in shape, and his face wasn't sagging with wrinkles, the act was good. He could've passed for a woman. Back then, Madison had sat at the bar with her mother, clapping and cheering her father on. But now, she sat drinking wine, in an attempt to forget that her mother was no longer seated beside her, singing along to her father's act, and that her father was making a complete fool of himself by carrying on this charade.

Madison picked up her glass, swallowing the contents as quickly as she could. She slammed it down upon the bar, before snatching up her snake skin purse and weaving her way through the packed out club, avoiding the over excited parties and glaring at guys who looked as though they might try and cheekily grope her.

She glanced back towards the stage, her sage green eyes meeting a matching pair across the room. Her father looked at her, his eyes pleading with her own. She shook her head and pushed the creaking door open, stepping out into the warm, sticky summer night. She pulled her phone from her purse and snapped it open, dialing a familiar number.

Madison Burton needed a new adventure.