Bite Club by Hal Bodner

Author:Hal Bodner [Bodner, Hal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay & Lesbian
Publisher: Crossroad Press
Published: 2014-03-14T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Pamela Burman was having a good day—for her. During her morning constitutional, she’d managed to locate, not one but two cars parked illegally. At the 7-Eleven on Holloway and La Cienega, she’d called in the violations to the Parking Department, pleased that she’d increased the city’s coffers by the price of two parking tickets. She hoped desperately that at least one of the vehicles would have outstanding warrants. She’d called Parking twice already, asking, and had been assured they’d call her back before lunch.

As a result, she was in a remarkably good mood and had only yelled at her secretary, a neurotic, willowy young man named Carlos, twice. The first time had been because he’d tried to—intentionally in Burman’s opinion—bring her a cup of coffee that had been sitting on the brewer since the day before. She’d shrieked at him, thrown the cup across her office, and demanded the first cup from a fresh pot. She’d spattered a few drops of stale coffee on her hot-pink chenille sweater, but the alacrity with which the new cup appeared on her desk, along with the knowledge that she would be greeted with the choicest from the pot every morning for at least the next two weeks, made it well worth the dry cleaning bill.

Burman was never intentionally mean. She merely set great store by efficiency and the strict compliance with rules and regulations. She was blissfully ignorant of Carlos’s hasty retreat into the men’s room to pop a Xanax and would have been horrified to know that she’d recently forced him to increase his therapy sessions to thrice weekly.

It amazed everyone at City Hall that Carlos had managed to last as long as he had. Burman was famous for going through secretaries and assistants far more rapidly than a toddler goes through shoes. Carlos’s reasons, however, were his own and he held his cards very close to his chest. He’d angled for almost eleven months to get the position as Burman’s number two. Born and raised in West Hollywood, the only child of an unmarried immigrant mother, Carlos had always regarded Burman as somewhat of a legend. He admired her dubious style, her undoubted campiness, unconscious of it as she might be, and her ability to alternately charm or bully her way into getting what she wanted.

Carlos worshiped Burman, although she reduced him to tears on many occasions, and he hoped one day to be just like her. He had, in fact, modeled his drag persona, Ms. Shanda Leer, after her. Luckily, his best “girlfriend” a drag queen known as Trampolina, a name descriptive of both her boisterous nature in bed and the frequency with which she exercised it, was a sales clerk at Mister Fred’s, the boutique where Burman purchased many of her outlandish outfits. It was scarcely an imposition at all for Trampolina to put aside copies of whatever Burman bought, in Carlos’s size, so that Shanda could be sure to match the city manager’s wardrobe.

Unbeknownst to him, Burman

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