“I’m tired, it’s been a long day,” he continued, his hand coming up to pinch his nose between his eyes.

“That’s all right,” I said. “And no, I’m not mad at you or pretending to be mad. But I need to put makeup on and all my good stuff is at your condo so I have to visit Chez Burgundy.”

I had put my Lynyrd Skynyrd outfit back on for Beau Jo’s. I changed my top to a thin, black, silky, partially-beaded, spaghetti-strapped affair that was in the Sushi Den section of my closet. This necessitated no bra and since Lee seemed quite happy laying back on my bed with his arms crossed behind his head, watching me change (and I would have felt like a naïve fool locking myself in the bathroom), I had to pull a Jennifer-Beals-Flashdance move and take the bra off after I put the top on. I kept the jeans, but exchanged the belt for the one with rhinestones and the boots for high-heeled sandals with jet beads sewn across the front strap. I added about two dozen shiny black bangles on my wrist and some dangly earrings.

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!”