Rock Chick 01 (26 page)

When I was done, I turned to the bed. I
thought Lee was watching me, but he was asleep.

I sat next to his hip and the minute he felt
my weight on the bed, his eyes opened.

“Why don’t you rest?” I asked. “We’ll come
back after the show.”

His hand came from behind his head and his
finger traced the silky strap at my shoulder.

“I’m not lettin’ you out of my sight.”

My breath had started coming faster when he
touched me.

“It’ll be okay. Everyone’ll be there.”

His eyes locked on mine and I read that
nothing more could be said, Lee had made up his mind.

His finger hooked in the strap and tugged it
toward him. Either I could resist and risk the fragile strap
breaking or I could acquiesce. I liked the top so I leaned into
him.

His arms circled me and I rested my hands on
his chest.

“How long is this gonna last tonight?” he
asked.

I thought about it.

“It should be over around one or two. I’m on
drag duty so I have to stay until the bitter end.”

His eyes had become melty-chocolate but now
they hardened with impatience.

“I’m never gonna do anything but sleep with
you in my bed, am I?”

God, I hoped that wasn’t true. That would
suck. Now that I was kind of coming to terms with our togetherness,
I was looking forward to certain things we hadn’t gotten around to
doing, like the exchange of bodily fluids.

I opened my mouth to speak but the
melty-chocolate had come back into his eyes.

“You don’t have to answer, your face said it
all.”

Great.

We went out the back and through the
adjoining gate to Tod and Stevie’s. I knocked at their backdoor and
put my head in.

“Yoo hoo!” I called.

Stevie yelled from the bowels of the house
for us to come in and we entered the kitchen. Chowleena came
clicking through and she butted my legs with her head, then she
stepped back and barked twice at Lee, her front paws coming up with
each exertion. When she was done with her warning, she butted his
legs too.

“She likes you,” I told Lee. He bent over to
scratch Chowleena’s ears and I called, “I’ve got Lee with me.”

Stevie appeared in the doorway and blatantly
and thoroughly looked Lee over.

Then, he smiled his approval at me.

“I’m Stevie,” he said, his eyes moving back
to Lee and he came into the room.

“Lee.”

They shook hands then Stevie gave me a kiss
on the cheek.

Chowleena barked again and then clicked out
of the room, her bottom swaying pertly, full of attitude.

We followed.

The living room-cum-dining room was closed up
tight from any looky-loos. The Burgundy Rose transformation was
firmly hidden behind drawn curtains and a closed front door. The
dining area looked like the backstage of a New York fashion show
had exploded in it. There was makeup scattered across the dining
room table, two lighted mirrors and three foam heads with wigs on
them. Formal dresses in every color and fabric were strewn across
the backs of chairs, sequins sparkled and feathers swayed slightly
in the breeze of the ceiling fan. Shoes were lying around
everywhere.

Tod was in semi-drag. He was sitting in a
robe, panty-hose on and I could tell he had his girl figure already
sorted under the robe. His hair was in a skull cap ready for a wig,
his base makeup was heavy and his eyes were mostly done. He had the
spidery shape of a false eyelash dangling from his fingers and a
cigarette dangling from his lips.

He narrowed his eyes through the smoke at
Lee.

“No one and I mean
no one
but Indy’s
Hunk of Burning Love would be allowed to see me this way. You talk,
you die.”

It was an empty threat and everyone knew it.
Firstly, who was Lee going to tell? Secondly, Lee could kick
anyone’s ass.

“Anyone want a drink?” Stevie, ever the good
host, said into the void.

“I need makeup, my stuff is at Lee’s,” I told
Tod.

Tod extracted his smoke from his mouth and
gestured to the dining room table.

“What’s mine is yours.”

* * * * *

It took nearly an hour to get Burgundy to
BJ’s Carousel. She was not only performing but MC-ing so she had
several dress changes. Stevie and I carefully slid the dresses that
Tod indicated into garment bags. We schlepped them, three wigs, six
boxes of shoes, a Louis Vuitton tote-bag of emergency provisions
(extra hose in case of runs, packets of cigarettes, lighters,
smaller bags filled with bracelets, earrings, necklaces and other
accessories, fingernail polish remover, etc.) and Tod’s enormous,
steel-encased MAC tackle box filled with cosmetics into the
CR-V.

Lee and I followed Tod and Stevie to BJ’s in
the Crossfire. The bar was on Broadway, about a mile or so south of
my store, just past the I-25 overpass. It was a small, dive bar but
you couldn’t tell because it was dark and the Diva Queens on the
tiny stage could make it come alive.

We went in the back way, all of us loaded
down with Burgundy’s stuff and entered the small area set aside as
a dressing room. It was so smoky you could barely see and it was
chock full of drag queens, their partners, fag hags and other
hangers on. The minute we walked in, everyone, man, woman or queen,
turned and stared at Lee.

“Sweet Jesus,” a Shania Twain look-alike
standing three feet away breathed, her hungry eyes riveted on
Lee.

Burgundy forged ahead announcing, “He’s
straight, he’s taken and if he turns, I have first dibs.”

Stevie dumped his load and Lee handed him the
garment bag he was holding, then turned to me. “I’ll get you a
drink.”

“Good idea. You don’t leave, they’ll jump and
tear your clothes off.”

Lee winced. “That’s a pleasant thought.”

“Don’t think I’m kidding,” I told him. “If
you wouldn’t mind getting me a…” I started to give him my drink
order but he interrupted.

“I know what you drink, Indy.”

Panic overwhelmed me again, fast and
fierce.

Lee smiled, it was The Smile except
magnified, warm and intimate. All air was sucked out of the room as
surreptitious watching turned obvious when people saw The Smile. My
reaction included both a quivering in the nether regions and a
swelling of the breasts.

Lee’s arm slid around me and his lips found
mine for a quick kiss.

“Don’t look so scared, I’m not gonna eat
you,” he murmured and then his hand slid down my ass and pressed my
hips against his in a promise that belied his words.

Holy shit, shit, shit.

He left and half of our audience were fanning
themselves, the other half adjusting their trousers.

Stevie and I got Burgundy sorted. By the time
I made it into the bar, it was a crush. The Savage/Nightingale
contingent found a table front and center. Everyone was crammed
into it, Andrea had forked her children off on a babysitter and
forced her husband to come and he looked about as comfortable as a
Republican at a Rainbow Gathering. For Tex, on the other hand, this
was another day at the office. He sat relaxed, his feet on a chair
that likely could be used to rest someone’s ass but no one would
have had the balls to ask for it.

Two other seats were empty, one for Stevie,
one for me, drinks in front of both.

Lee wasn’t at the table, he and Hank both had
their backs against the wall by the entrance, both holding a beer
bottle by its neck, their arms crossed on their chest, effortlessly
and unconsciously exuding aggressive heterosexuality. Even in the
crammed bar, they were given a wide berth.

The show started late and Burgundy came out
giving some lip to someone who’d been imbibing too much, was
getting impatient and yelled his thoughts about it.

Take my advice, never heckle a drag queen.
They’ll make mincemeat out of you.

The show was great, the drinks kept coming
and I’d scoot out when Stevie and I got the high sign it was time
for a costume change. Backstage, we’d struggle Burgundy and her
foam rubber hips out of one heavy, sequined extravaganza and into
another and we’d return to the table. Our group was generous with
tips during the performances, handing the queen a dollar for an air
kiss on the cheek and we quickly became a favorite, and thus the
focus of all the divas.

It was going well, I was relaxed, happy,
enjoying myself and I was remembering a life that was fun and
exciting without bullets flying. I was well into my fifth spiced
rum and diet when Burgundy took the stage and made a surprise
announcement.

“Many of you know her and love her and now
we’re gonna get her up here to show you what’s she’s got. Get your
tips ready, ladies and tramps, we’re breaking tradition and
bringing a real woman on the stage. Give it up for India
Savage!”

Um, what?

Holy shit.

Holy shit, shit, shit.

That’s when I heard it, the piano and strings
starting Barbra Streisand and Donna Summer’s “No More Tears.” I’d
sung it a gazillion times with Tod in Stevie and Tod’s living room
after over-imbibing chilled sparkling wine and a marathon of
Yahtzee.

Never
in front of an audience.

Never.

Ally pulled me out of my chair, Marianne,
Dolores and Andrea pushed me to the stage, which was tragically too
close and Stevie shoved a dead microphone into my hand. Burgundy
had already done her Barbra hum, I had no choice but to lip sync my
Donna “ooo”.

Then I was on the stage, doing the slow
introduction, singing about what lacked in Donna’s romantic life
and trying to play off Burgundy, trying to look her in the eyes
like I felt the words deep into my very soul.

Problem was, I was stiff as a board and the
disco bit was coming up.

Lee was watching. The last thing I wanted to
do was dance around on stage in front of a hundred people, one of
them Liam Nightingale, lip syncing badly to fucking disco.

I had to pull it together, this was for
charity. I had no idea
what
charity but what did it matter?
I’d look more of a fool if I didn’t loosen up, and fast.

There was nothing for it.

We sang eye-to-eye while Barbra and Donna
harmonized. Burgundy shot me a “for God’s sake, pull yourself
together” look and I shrugged my shy discomfort.

Burgundy gave it her all on Barbra’s long
note, closing her eyes with feeling and holding her hand to her
throat. I stayed stiff on purpose, pretending to be uncomfortable
and wanting to be anywhere but there.

When the disco hit, my “ahs” came on and I
shuffled with discomfort, keeping up the sham.

Then the horns kicked in and I pulled out all
the stops, strutting, shaking my hips and stomping across the tiny
stage like a white, pissed off Tina Turner, throwing attitude that
would do Chowleena proud.

The crowd went wild and jumped to their feet.
It helped that front and center were all my friends and family, not
to mention it was well into the show and most everyone was
shitfaced. They lifted their arms, fingers pointed towards us,
wrists snapping and bodies bouncing to the beat.

I used Donna’s lyrics to lecture the audience
then Burgundy and I got nose-to-nose screaming at each other,
shaking our hair in tandem with the angry words and the crowd began
chanting the chorus.

It was Barbra’s song, Donna was only dessert
so I worked the crowd, leaning double at the waist, my hand at my
hip and got in the faces of the people who dared to approach me
with dollar bills, snatching notes out of their hands like the tip
was my God given right. I scrunched up my face with
mock-pissed-offedness and didn’t give a single kiss. I even went so
far as placing the sole of my sandal into a butch biker’s chest and
sending him careening backwards giggling himself silly.

The crowd ate it up, shouting, cheering and
sending up deafening whistles and cat calls.

It was beautiful and the biggest fucking
happy rush I’d had in my life.

It was when the disco slowed to the funky bit
that was a wind up to when Barbra gets so pissed off her voice goes
husky that I saw Pepper Rick standing across the room, pointing a
gun at me.

I froze.

Then, without my brain telling my body to do
it, I whirled and threw myself in a body tackle, bringing Burgundy
down. Both of our tip money and microphones flew out of our hands
and Burgundy shouted a very male, “What the fuck?”

The crowd began to cheer, thinking it was
part of the show but the cheer turned to screams and shouts when
gunfire rang out.

“Crawl,” I hissed to Tod, “stay low and crawl
the fuck out of here.”

We almost started to crawl as more gunfire
rang through the bar, then I jumped back on Tod, covering him with
my body. Once the sound of the guns cleared, I could hear Dad and
Malcolm shouting orders to people trying to keep calm and stop a
stampede.

We started crawling again, all I could see
was Tod’s sequined ass. I heard heavy footfalls on the stage and,
all of a sudden, I was lifted up. I let out an half-enraged,
half-startled scream and tried to twist away but I no sooner got a
look at who had me when I was thrown, like a human discus, off the
stage.

I flew through the air and hit Lee with a
grunt, both his and mine, and his arms came around me as he
staggered back a step to brace himself. Out of the corner of my
eye, I caught sight of Tex, who had made it to the stage, and me,
before Lee. Tex executed the stage dive to end all stage dives, his
bulky weight toppling the unfortunate and unprepared people who’d
been in his way.

I didn’t get a chance to process this because
Lee lifted me up by the waist and carried me to the door, moving
anyone out of our way by either shoving them, punching them or just
plain old body slamming them with his shoulder.

I saw Hank in front of us with Ally in a
similar hold just as Malcolm pushed Kitty Sue out the door.