Mary, Queen of Scotch by Rob Rosen

Author:Rob Rosen [Rosen, Rob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2018-10-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

The firemen dropped us off with the EMT’s. The EMT’s took us to the hospital, me and Ray and Lucy, all of us having inhaled more smoke than both Cheech and Chong in all their movies combined. Auntie politely declined. That is to say, Auntie drew her gun, albeit one of the soda guns behind the bar, and threatened the firemen with what sounded like very painful genital mutilation.

“She looks fine,” said the fireman closest to me, just before he deposited us outside into the fresh air.

“Matter of opinion,” coughed I.

“Fine is such a subjective word,” hacked Lucy.

“Smart move,” wheezed Ray with one of his quintessential winks. “Given that I bet you have stunning genitalia.”

My hero.

In any case, the three of us found ourselves in a shared hospital room not too soon later, oxygen masks over our sooty, makeup-smeared faces. Well, not Ray, as Ray didn’t wear makeup. Still, our trio looked far worse for the wear.

Mora, still in drag, came rushing in and ran to the middle of the room, took one look at us, and deadpanned, “You bitches look like shit.”

To which Lucy replied, “We’ve been in a drag fire; what’s your excuse?”

Mora smirked and toddled my way. She leaned down and in. “Don’t be mad; I had a good reason for disappearing.”

“I’m okay,” I said to her from behind the oxygen mask. “Between my padding and my Spanx, the fire didn’t have a chance.”

She nodded and pushed the singed, blonde locks out of my face. “That fire clearly didn’t know a star when it engulfed one.”

Lucy lifted the mask from her dirtied and smudged face. “I’m fine, dear; thanks for asking.”

Mora walked over to Lucy’s side. “This is a good look for you, hon. Fire-sale drag.” She bent down and gave her friend an air kiss on the cheek. “You should work this into your act. Or, you know, just work an act into your act.”

“Truce,” said Ray. “Please, it’s been a long day.”

I exhaled. Did I mention that it was weird to have both of the men I was sleeping with in the same hospital room? Because it was. Weird. And unsettling. I mean, I’d escaped death. Death must’ve been pissed and gave me this as a consolation prize. Fucking death.

I took the mask off. “Auntie fired me.”

They all frowned as they took their masks off. “To be fair,” said Lucy, “you flooded her bar.”

“And ruined her wig,” added Mora.

Ray nodded. “She does love her wigs.”

“And her bar,” said Lucy.

I sighed. I coughed. I coughed some more. Tears streamed down my cheeks. Was I crying? Was I crying over losing a temporary job? I sobbed and wiped my face with my tattered sleeve. “It was a nifty number, though, right?”

They all nodded. “But,” said Mora, “first rule of drag: don’t rely on props. Props fail. Look pretty. Lip-sync as if you’re life depended on it. Flirt with the big tippers. Mock the cheap ones. But use the props sparingly.”

“And,” said Lucy, “stay clear of electricity.”

Their nodding went into overdrive.

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