Scot on the Rocks by Brenda Janowitz

Author:Brenda Janowitz [Brenda Janowitz]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2007-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

16

We ran back to our hotel just in time to see a very pissed off former cross-dresser waiting for us in the hotel lobby. Even if you hadn’t seen him there, you would have felt him — his presence filled the entire lobby. There he was, sprawled out on a couch, taking lots of room with his long legs crossed and his massive bag of hair and makeup supplies sitting beside him.

He happened to look great. As a man, I mean. Last time I saw him, Damian was in New York, dressing and performing as a woman. Don’t laugh. He did a really mean Diana, and his Barbra wasn’t too bad, either. His face has a very feminine quality to it, so with the right hair and makeup, you would swear he didn’t have an Adam’s apple.

Damian now had cut his hair short and was dressed in form-fitting black pants with a black button-down shirt, which framed his six foot four very, very tall, very, very thin body perfectly. To complement the look, he had his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest (no chest hair, of course) and was wearing a Louis Vuitton belt that had little LVs all over it. He looked as if he could be in an ad for something expensive.

“We’re late,” Vanessa said. “Damian looks pissed.”

“We’re not late,” I told Vanessa. “We are on time.”

“Correction,” Jack said. “We would have been on time if we hadn’t stopped for shoes.”

“Okay,” I said, “first of all, there is always time for shoes.” What kind of talk is this coming from Jack? Even if we were running late to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding, I still would not stand for such blasphemy.

“That you can’t really walk in,” Jack persisted.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Vanessa asked.

“I don’t know,” Jack said, “walking, shoes…Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“You are so naive,” I said as we approached Damian. He rose from the couch slowly and stared at us disapprovingly. And he did rise, mind you; he didn’t stand up or get up or anything that we normal people would do. Rather, Damian rose deliberately, like Moses parting the Red Sea.

“Okay, running like that — not attractive,” Damian said.

“Dame, you remember Brooke and Jack,” Vanessa said, still out of breath from the mad sprint from the taxi to the lobby. “And you had better not have been talking about me just now.”

“Good to see you, girls,” he said, looking us up and down. “We don’t have much time.” And with that, he began to walk toward the elevators. Because of his height, he moved as if in slow motion, gliding down the hallway, while the three of us followed quickly in his wake.

“Did he just say ‘pleased to meet you, girls?’” Jack asked, grabbing my arm. I laughed as we all got into the elevator.

“We’re cutting your hair today, Brooke?” Damian asked me. My hand instinctively flew to my head, the way a mama bird protects her baby birds.

“No,” I said.

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