There was no doubt that Kurt was eye candy to the entire town, it just still came as a shock sometimes. Not that Kurt wasn't gorgeous, but still, he was a boy. There hadn't actually been any legitimate mistaking the adolescent for a girl since he was about eleven. His voice was still high, and his face was still pretty, but there were still the little details that let you know he really was a boy. But, under all the lace and glitter, the men around there didn't give a damn. It was almost funny, in a lewd kind of way: just about all the men in town claim they really are heterosexual, but damn near every night they're here all oversexed over a boy.

Sam wiped down a few mugs, cleaning them at least halfway decent for the boozehounds that should be crowding in in an hour or so. He didn't exactly care if they were drinking the backwash of one of their fellow dogs.

He wondered if Lucy really cared if they noticed her absense. He also wondered if anyone actually did. Nobody really missed her, that was certain. She'd been a little obnoxious -okay, really obnoxious, especially of late. She was probably getting fed up once and for all. She was the kind of girl that craved attention -that was why she'd started working here in the first place. She'd just not expected not being the center of the show. Sam cringed at the thought, but he really did believe that Lucy was jealous of Kurt. That wasn't fair, it's not like the kid had asked for this. Given the chance, Sam knew Kurt would stop performing here altogether. Maybe even run away. Probably to Hollywood, like Lucy, or New York. And he deserved to. Kurt was an amazing singer, but not many people realized that while they were staring at his ass in what was equivalent to lace panties. Or about equivalent.

Business was usually slow at this hour. The hounds prefered to get drunk during the show rather than before. Another thing about all the men in Nelson -besides them all clearly being strictly hetero- they were all drinkers. Sam had learned it's more polite to call them drinkers than drunks. Not that he cared about hurting their feelings or some bullshit like that, but he'd rather not start anything should something slip out. They were always all conveniently sober enough to know when you're talking about them and stinking drunk enough to wanna start a fight with anything that moves. Sam hated every last one of them.

Sam Evans was probably the only real straight man in Nelson. He felt no attraction to men, no matter how pretty they were. Not like Kurt was even a man, he was a boy, a child, for Chrissake. And that's why Sam was always so protective of him, because he knew what the men would do given the chance, and for all this town lacked in morality, the things they would do would make even the worst's stomach turn.

The door open, the little bell on top chiming. Sam hated that little bell, too. It made the place seem like a little store rather than a burlesque house. He looked up. This pretty short guy with dark curly hair and dressed in a tan suit came in, head down as if he was looking for something on the floor in front of him. This guy was definitely not from Nelson, that was certain. News had spread through the small town about a train that had broken down a few miles out. He was probably one of the dissatisfied passengers.

"Hey, buddy!" Sam called out, eyes narrow and wiping a glass a little more thoroughly than before. He waited for the man to at least turn his head a little. "Come over here, you look like you could use a shot of whiskey.."

Blaine stumbled over to the counter. He knew he probably looked like he was already drunk, the way he was stumbling around, weary. Head still tilted slightly to the floor, as if it weren't disgusting, though it looked like the staff tried to keep it nice. He sat on a stool that was a little difficult to get onto, it being a little higher than his thigh. He leaned heavily on the cheap marble counter as the blonde bartender retrieved a whiskey bottle and poured him a shotglass full. "Drink up," he encouraged, though not too enthusiastic.

"So..." Blaine started, downing his drink. "This is the Sun Spot I've heard so much about?" He didn't mean to sound so crass, his voice was just rough with the burn of alcohol. Blaine wasn't much of a drinker, and whiskey was a pretty strong liquor, he knew as much. He coughed a little, but that only exacerbated the burning rawness in his throat. The yellow-haired man ignored it.

"Yeah, that it is," Sam answered simply before deciding to actually continue to the conversation. "You're a little early for the real show, y'know. Even Rachel doesn't come on until six. But I guess this is a good night for you to come into town, huh. We lost a girl last night -she's chasing the Hollwood spotlight as we speak, probably. Ku- Angelface is starting an extra performance tonight." Sam almost remembered too late not to call Kurt by his real name to the patrons.

That caught Blaine's attention. So, the kook in the car wasn't making it all up. There really was a burlesque house called the Sun Spot and even more so, there really was an Angelface Hummel. "Angelface, huh? What's she like? She any good?" For all he knew, though, this Angelface was really a girl.

Sam's eyes narrowed again, but not very hostily. "You really must be new, huh? Angelface is a boy, a kid. The boozehounds 'round here love him cuz he's pretty like a girl, and he's young. And he has this very pale skin that no one's got around here. Not in Nelson, anyway. Not even the ladies. Nelson's fulla dirty-faced men and almost as dirty women. Angelface, though, his old man keeps him lookin' fresh all the time. Makes the customers happy, makes him money." He was probably talking too much. "Anyway, he'll be on around seven if you really wanna take a look for yourself. Don't try nothin' funny, though. He's just a kid."

Blaine nodded and ordered another shot.