#dragshow

After an hour of practice, Wells could feel the song living in his bones.

Not just the beat. Not just the relentless 133 BPM kick that had been pounding through the rehearsal room until the walls seemed to breathe with it. The whole thing. The strings, the siren, the snare rolls, the huge emotional chorus, Deborah Fox’s diva vocal soaring like a lighthouse over the storm.

Golden Wells’ new track, “Chosen Family,” was built for Pride.

And tonight, it belonged to Alberta Clipper and Marigold Meridian.

Backstage at Woody’s on Church Street, the air was thick with hairspray, perfume, powder, sweat, and anticipation. Outside, Toronto Pride roared through the Village. Music spilled from patios. Rainbow flags snapped above the street. The sidewalks were packed with laughing strangers, chosen siblings, drag lovers, first-timers, old-timers, and every kind of beautiful chaos Church Street could hold.

Wells stood in front of the mirror, no longer Wells for the night.

He was Alberta Clipper.

The black sequined gown clung to him like midnight dipped in gold. Ornate metallic leafwork climbed across his chest and shoulders, catching every bulb around the mirror. His bronze-brown beehive rose high and dramatic, his beard sculpted sharp, his makeup smoky and commanding. Gold earrings brushed his jaw as he turned his head, checking every angle.

Beside him, Trey adjusted the fall of his orange cape.

Tonight, Trey was Marigold Meridian.

Gold armor gleamed across his body under the dressing room lights. His copper-blonde wig, streaked with vivid blue, framed his face like flame and electricity. Thigh-high gold boots gave him height, power, and danger. He looked like a Pride superhero who had wandered out of a circuit party and decided to save everyone through choreography.

“You ready?” Wells asked, voice low, focused.

Trey looked at him through the mirror and smirked.

“Born ready, babe.”

From the corner, Alton leaned back with his arms crossed, grinning like he already knew the number was going to destroy the room. Beside him, Coach watched with a quieter pride, his expression steady but warm. He had seen Wells and Trey practice for the last hour: missed cues, repeated counts, cape trouble, gown trouble, laughter, correction, reset, and finally that perfect moment when the chorus hit and both of them landed the move together.

Coach nodded once.

“Remember the build,” he said. “Don’t give them everything too early. Make them earn the drop.”

Alberta smiled.

“Oh, they’re gonna earn it.”

The host’s voice boomed from the stage.

“Woody’s, are you ready for something golden?”

The crowd screamed.

“Performing Golden Wells’ brand-new Pride anthem ‘Chosen Family,’ featuring Deborah Fox, give it up for Alberta Clipper and Marigold Meridian!”

The lights cut to black.

For one breath, there was nothing.

Then the kick hit.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Alberta stepped into the darkness first, one gold heel placed carefully, one hand lifted like she was parting a storm. Marigold entered opposite her, cape trailing behind, armor catching the first slice of light.

The tribal hats entered. The bassline crawled in low and hungry.

The crowd began to clap.

As the orchestral strings swelled, Alberta turned slowly, letting the gold leafwork flash across the room. Marigold raised both arms, cape spreading like sunrise. The siren climbed. The white-noise riser screamed upward.

Then the music stopped for one perfect beat.

Alberta and Marigold froze.

The crowd held its breath.

The drop slammed back in.

Woody’s exploded.

Deborah Fox’s vocal filled the room: “Walking through the open door…”

Alberta took the first verse with elegant control, lip-syncing every word with rich, aching drama. She moved like the lyric had been written inside her. One hand reached outward on “looking for a hand in mine,” and people near the stage reached back instinctively.

Marigold circled behind her, protective and radiant, cape cutting through the lights. His eyes locked with the crowd, daring them to come closer, to feel more, to let go.

At the pre-chorus, the kick dropped out.

The strings lifted.

Alberta and Marigold moved toward each other from opposite sides of the stage.

“Then I felt the rhythm drop…”

They hit the first synchronized gesture.

“Felt the world begin to turn…”

Marigold spun, cape flaring wide.

“Safe inside this melody…”

Alberta dropped low, one arm sweeping across the floor, sequins flashing.

The snare roll built faster and faster. Alton leaned forward, eyes wide. Coach’s face broke into the smallest, proudest smile.

Then the chorus hit.

“WE ARE THE ONES WE CHOOSE…”

The room became one body.

Alberta and Marigold attacked the choreography with full Pride euphoria: sharp arms, dramatic turns, hair, cape, gown, gold, sweat, light. The crowd screamed the words even though most were hearing the song for the first time. It did not matter. They understood it instantly.

“FOUND MY SHELTER IN THE GROOVE…”

Alberta pointed to the room.

Marigold pointed to Alberta.

Then both pointed to the crowd.

“WITH MY CHOSEN FAMILY!”

Woody’s shook.

By the second verse, people were dancing shoulder to shoulder. Strangers had become friends within seconds. Someone near the bar was crying openly, laughing at themselves as they wiped their face. A group of queens in the back raised their glasses. Outside, through the windows, Church Street blazed with Pride night energy.

During the breakdown, the drums vanished.

Blue-white light washed over the stage.

Alberta and Marigold stood together, breathing hard, hands almost touching.

Deborah’s voice softened: “Oh, I found you…”

The room quieted.

For a moment, the number stopped being camp, spectacle, or choreography. It became something older and deeper. Every person in Woody’s knew what it meant to search for a place that would hold them. Every person knew what it meant to find family not by blood, but by survival, rhythm, and love.

Alberta took Marigold’s hand.

Alton swallowed hard.

Coach looked down for a second, then back up.

The build returned.

The snare roll climbed.

Marigold lifted his cape.

Alberta raised one gold-covered arm.

“HEAR ME NOW!”

The crowd screamed.

“YOU SET ME FREE!”

The final drop detonated.

The last chorus was pure release. Alberta and Marigold gave everything: full faces, full bodies, full command. The stage lights flashed gold and rainbow. The crowd shouted “chosen family” back like a vow.

At the final held “FAMILY!”, Alberta and Marigold struck the closing pose together: hands clasped high, Marigold’s cape spread behind them, Alberta’s gown glittering like black fire under gold.

For one second, silence.

Then Woody’s erupted.

Alton was on his feet first, cheering louder than anyone. Coach stood beside him, clapping hard, pride written plainly across his face.

Alberta and Marigold looked out at the room, still holding hands.

Outside, Church Street kept pulsing.

Inside, under the lights at Woody’s, Wells and Trey had become exactly what the song promised.

Not alone.

Not hidden.

Chosen. Golden. Family.

Found your shelter in the groove? Then step into the Gold. Join Wells, the Golden Bros, and the family that chooses you back. Contact our recruiters: @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-125