“Wel , I can help with that,” Indy announced and looked at Al y. “We’l cal Tod and Stevie.”
“I’l help with the outfit,” Roxie put in and Indy nodded.
“I’l do your makeup,” Jet said on a smile.
“I’l do your hair,” Daisy offered.
“No! ” Indy, Al y and Jet al said in unison, making everyone else jump.
“I’ll do your hair,” Indy declared firmly.
“She gives good hair,” Al y informed me.
“She gives good hair,” Al y informed me.
“You got her outfit,” Daisy complained, “you can’t have her hair too. What am I gonna do?”
“You can take the virgin part,” Indy said.
Daisy’s blue eyes swung to me and they were bright. “Oh yeah. I can do that.”
“Where do you live?” Al y asked.
I wasn’t keeping up and before I could think better of it, I gave them my address. They al got up.
“She’s in the ‘hood,” Indy noted to the group and then looked at me. “I live two blocks away from you.” I nodded, stil not keeping up.
Then Indy turned to the group again. “Five fifteen, we al meet at Jules’s. Bring what you can,” Indy ordered.
“I’m comin’ too,” May threw in and looked at me, “moral support.”
“Works for me,” Al y replied.
“Me too. See you there,” Roxie said to me.
Then they were gone. May and I stared at the door.
“What just happened?” I asked the door and felt rather than saw May’s eyes on me.
“What just happened was, just like I said, Crowe’s offerin’ you a life. If you’re smart, which I know you are, you’re gonna reach out and grab it.”
Then she was gone too.
Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
You Like Bikes?
“She needs more sparkle,” Daisy announced and I could see her out of the corners of my eyes to which Jet was applying shadow. Daisy had her hands on her hips and she was staring at me assessingly and I could tel she did not like what she saw.
“She doesn’t need any sparkle. She’s going on a date with Vance, not bal room dancing at The Ritz,” Indy returned, standing beside me and holding a curling iron in my hair.
“Tod, she needs sparkle. Every girl needs sparkle. Find some goddamned sparkle, comprende?” Daisy ordered, ignoring Indy.
The gang had descended on my house about five minutes after I arrived home from the Shelter. They came in carrying hangers ful of clothes, curling irons, hairdryers, cosmetics bags stuffed with makeup, accessories and boxes of shoes.
They had two gay men in tow. One, Tod, was a tal , lean, effeminate white man with a brown crew cut. The other, Stevie, was shorter, more butch, handsome and Hispanic.
Tod, they told me, was Denver’s top drag queen, his alter ego known as Burgundy Rose. Stevie, they also told me, was his long-suffering but, nevertheless, obviously loving partner.
“Sparkle,” Tod muttered, digging through piles of clothes, belts, scarves and shoes, “gotcha.”
“I’m not sure about sparkle,” I whispered to Jet.
“Don’t worry,” Jet replied with a smal smile to me then she glanced worriedly at Indy.
I figured this worried glance was not good. Real y not good. The butterflies in my stomach started fluttering and not in a good Vance-said-or-did-something-sexy way but in an oh-my-God-get-me-out-of-here way.
Roxie was sitting on my couch drinking a margarita Boo in her lap. His yel ow eyes were closed and she was stroking him ful body.
He was in heaven. I was in hel .
“We already decided. She’s wearing the black,” Roxie put in.
“You decided,” Daisy returned. “Black is boring. I think we should do the sequins.”
My eyes swung to May who was lounging in my chaise.
She lifted her margarita glass at me and winked.
“Daisy, give it up. No sequins for God’s sake. This is Denver not the fucking Oscars. Talk to Jules about Vance popping her cherry,” Al y ordered. She and Stevie were re-hanging clothes that Tod was tearing off hangers.
At Al y’s comment I sucked in breath and I think I experienced a heart palpitation.
“Al y Nightingale. Don’t be crass. You’ve scared the poor girlie to death,” Tod admonished and Al y threw him a look.
“I think you should just tel him you’re a virgin,” Jet suggested. “He’l understand and be gentle.”
“Oh. My. God. Do not, whatever you do, tel him you’re a virgin,” Daisy sat down next to Roxie on the side of the couch which was closest to the armchair I was sitting in and she leaned into me, ful -on cleavage hanging over the arm of the couch. “Go with the flow,” she advised. “He does something you like; you do it back to him. You want to touch him or use your mouth on him, just do it. Whatever you do, he’l like it. Men aren’t very discerning. Al that touching stuff just gets in the way of the real thing. He won’t care, long as he gets some.”
“Daisy, that’s just not true,” Roxie put in. “Men like foreplay just as much as women.” Stevie made a noise and Roxie turned to him. “Don’t they?” she asked.