Bad Dogs and Drag Queens by Julie Lynn Hayes

Author:Julie Lynn Hayes [Hayes, Julie Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-63477-284-6
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2016-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

MY STOMACH was suffering severely from a sudden infestation of butterflies. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was uneasy at being in a new situation or because I was about to go onstage in a dress and makeup again. Probably more of the second than the first, since my job was a never-ending string of new situations that had never bothered me before. Different job, different location—the only common thread was Ethan and me.

On the other hand, it had been five years since the last time I’d done a drag show, and I can’t say I’d been jonesing to do it again. My other stints in women’s clothing had been done a lot more privately and usually under cover of the dark. Despite Ethan’s assurances that I looked fabulous in a dress, I didn’t share his confidence, nor did I consider his an unbiased opinion.

I’m glad I shaved my legs this afternoon. Nothing looked worse than a pair of hairy legs in nylons.

“This leads to my office.” Orgazma waved one beautifully manicured hand toward the first door on the right. Her nails matched her hair, and they sparkled, as if little gems were embedded in them. “The door’s always open—if you need me, just come on in. I keep a wide variety of emergency supplies on hand. Extra panty hose, nail polish, feathers, jewelry, CDs—you name it, I got it—and a whole lot of tender loving care if you just need a shoulder to cry on.”

Wasn’t that the very definition of a mother? Or, in this case, drag mother? There when you need her, and stocked with everything you could ever possibly want or need? Of course, that could be said of Ethan too, and he certainly wasn’t my mother.

“Thanks, I’ll remember that.”

We’d come up a short flight of steps and were winding our way behind the stage. Cables snaked across the floor. I carefully stepped over them, and tried not to run into any of the light fixtures that seemed to be strung everywhere. Orgazma glided elegantly across them as if they didn’t exist. Next to her, I felt decidedly clunky.

As we neared the end of the hall, I heard a babble of excited voices, punctuated by bursts of loud laughter.

“Don’t let the noise throw you, chicken. Sounds like the girls are just getting their diva on.” She threw open the door with a flourish, and I followed her inside. “Welcome to Drama Central.” She waved her hand in a grand gesture.

The dressing room was jammed with wall-to-wall drag queens of all sizes, shapes, and ages, in various stages of dress and undress. Some turned their heads and stared curiously at us. Others paid no attention to our entrance, too intent on putting on their faces or stuffing their bosoms to notice we were there. It would be rude to stare back, so I focused on the room, trying to get acclimated to the space. I had no idea how long we would be here, but for the duration, this was my new work environment.

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