Fishy Queen (Drag Queen Beauty Pageant Book 2)

by Malachite Splinters

  She was mad about the video, and this was her way of getting back at me.

  The weird thing was how out of character this was for her. She was not malicious and I had never known her to do anything like this before, in all the years I had known her.

  “That’s strange,” I said. “When I spoke to her on Monday she told me she didn’t want to continue being friends with you.”

  That shut him up.

  The smile dropped from his face and I saw the big eyes start to come back.

  “But I’m just so glad she had a change of heart,” I said, smiling again. “It seems like you really need friends right now.”

  Anthony’s eyes were still growing, like one of those small, fuzzy nocturnal creatures with really long fingers.

  I spread my hands. “Damaris was our headliner, and no-one can argue that she was our most beautiful and talented artist.”

  I waited for him to take the bait.

  “Yeah,” he said, rather defensively. “And she still is. She’s the most beautiful and talented woman I’ve ever met.”

  I rolled my eyes internally. Anthony’s goddess-worship of Damaris was so easy to exploit.

  I nodded, and what I said next was honest and true. “We’re really hurting from her loss. She can’t be replaced. She’s a rare talent.”

  Anthony was looking at the floor and pulling on his lower lip. He didn’t seem to be conscious that he was doing it.

  Oh, yes. I had said the right thing. He wanted her to come back, too. I was willing to bet that Anthony wanted things to go back to the way they were before, just like me.

  Not to the time when Damaris was depressed, of course.

  But I figured that he had been pretty happy during the time before that, when all he had to do was hang around the club and give Damaris the big eyes.

  Now she was gone, he wouldn’t even be able to ogle her in the dressing room any more. No doubt his jerk off material was going suffer something terrible.

  Nevertheless, I had him right where I wanted him now.

  “And,” I took a deep breath and let it out in a big, audible sigh. “This is why I’m so glad you decided to come back.”

  Whatever he was expecting me to say, it wasn’t that.

  “W-What?” He stuttered, unable to keep up the catty game he had displayed earlier.

  “You’re—you know,” I said.

  He frowned, shaking his head.

  I leaned forward. “You’re her successor.”

  Now his mouth dropped open unattractively.

  “Didn’t you realize that?” I asked with a look of concern.

  He shook his head, his braids swishing.

  “You know she’s way too modest to put it that way,” I said. “But look at the facts. She chose you. She spotted something in you. She could see your inner—inner, um—”

  “Drag queen?” Anthony volunteered in a small, innocent voice.

  “Exactly,” I gestured at him. “Your inner drag queen. And,” I needed another deep breath for this one. “And now I can see that she was right.”

  “Y-you can?” Anthony’s voice had gotten even smaller.

  I nodded through an artfully pained look of chagrin. “I admit, it’s taken me a long time to see it. But it’s undeniable. We need you, La Tata.”

  Anthony looked struck dumb.

  Spotting the victory sparkling and shining up ahead, I dived toward it.

  “Duane Tyrone is really worried about our chances in the auditions this year,” I said. “When you left, he realized what a big mistake he had made letting you go. He wants you to represent us in these auditions.”

  Anthony’s fingers were back on his lips, tugging nervously.

  “He said,” I said, in the kindest tone of voice I could summon, “that sometimes a star’s light gets outshone by brighter stars around it. But that doesn’t mean that star’s light isn't just as pretty. And sometimes that star just needs a little something to help it shine even brighter.”

  Ladies and gentlemen, I had to consume a large dose of antiemetics prior to making this speech.

  Anthony pulled on his lower lip and stared at the floor and the words I really wanted to say started to pound through my head like they were trying to break free.

  The fact that you don’t even understand how lucky you are to be asked to come back just goes to prove what an amateur you are.

  You're never going to get anywhere in this business.

  Take it from someone who worked his ass off to get where I am today, you don’t have what it takes.

  Yes, Anthony, I had to work my way up from the bottom in this just like I did in my education and my career.

  It didn’t get handed to me on a silver platter and no matter what you think I’m giving you right now, it’s not going to be handed to you.

  Because this, what DT and I are doing now, can only take you so far. It’s just a stepping stone. If you don’t follow through and put in the effort, it’s not going to happen.

  End of.

  Just. I can’t, even.

  “DT really said that?” Anthony said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

  I felt an odd something in my stomach, a kind of twinge, and I hope it wasn’t the nausea returning.

  I nodded and tried to speak, but then just kept nodding.

  “When are the auditions?” Anthony asked in the same barely audible voice. “I don’t know the exact date.”

  “Two weeks.”

  He let his lip go, but then started chewing on it. Finally he stood up straight and looked at me with his golden contact lenses. “I’ll do it,” he said.

  I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I smiled, and my stomach flipped over. The smile felt painful.

  “Okay,” I said, and it was not as loud as I meant it to be.

  “Hola chicas!” We both turned toward a now-familiar voice. Lucky Penny was coming toward us with arms outstretched. “Come here, honeys!”

  I submitted to the hugging ritual. It was better to be getting unwanted hugs than stink-eye.

  Anthony thought he could work these girls?

  He hadn’t seen nothing yet.

  I took out the key to the studio, which I had picked up from reception on the way in.

  “Alright, ladies,” I smiled, turning the key in the lock. “Welcome to your rehearsal space,” I threw the door open and walked inside.

  It was the smallest and oldest of the studios at Persimmon, but considering the entire place was an industrial conversion, it was still pretty nice.

  With floor-to-ceiling leaded glass pane windows on one side and a floor-to-ceiling mirror on the other, plus good lighting overhead and a professional sound installation, it was a damn sight better than the musty old green room with its low ceilings and lingering smoke smell from the eighties.

  It was, well, almost perfect…

  “Oh, it’s warm in here,” Lucky Penny flung out his arms and walked a few paces toward the center of the floor. Anthony followed, looking at himself in the big mirror.

  What a surprise.

  “Omg,” Lucky Penny’s nose had wrinkled up a little. “Girls, do you…” He covered his nose with his hand. “Agh!”

  Anthony’s eyes were wide with horror and he had his hand clamped over his nose as well now, nodding at Lucky Penny. No doubt Anthony produced the aroma of a French lavender field when he was in the bathroom.

  I joined in. “Sweet Lord above,” I cried, grabbing hold of my nose tightly. “It’s an abomination!” I started waving them out of the studio. “Get out, get out, quick. It might be some kind of gas leak.”

  That was one way of putting it.

  As the other two scurried for the exit, I turned around to see Miss Clarion Call standing in the doorway and sniffing the air with a confused look on her face which rapidly turned to disgust.

  I followed them out into the corridor and shut the door behind me.

  Lucky Penny kept sticking her tongue out and making retching sounds while Tata jus
t stood there with her nose still blocked like she was afraid it would follow her.

  “What’s wrong?” Clarion Call inquired.

  Lucky Penny raised a finger and pointed at the closed studio door. “It reeks!” She squealed. “It’s like a hundred corpses farted in there.”

  Anthony cautiously let go of his nose and tried breathing through it, looking worried.

  “Girls,” I said quietly, folding my hands in front of my chest. “I am just so embarrassed right now.”

  “Oh, no, Giltie Conshens,” Clarion Call put her hand on my shoulder. Did she have to touch so much? “You didn’t know, this isn’t your fault.”

  “Of course it’s not your fault,” Lucky Penny chimed in. “You need to complain, right now! This is just unacceptable!”

  I looked at her. “You are so right, Lucky,” I said. “Thank you. Yes. I will go and complain this instant. I am going to go and give that young man on the reception a piece of my mind.”

  “Good luck. You can do this,” Clarion Call squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. I wanted to fling his Anthony-touching hand off but forced myself to endure it.

  “Thank you, Clarion,” I said, looking into his eyes sincerely. “That means a lot.”

  “I’m angry!” I declared, clenching my fists dramatically. Well, because of my nails, I just folded my hands. “I can’t believe this terrible service!”

  I flounced away. As soon as I turned the corner, I got out my phone. I already had one missed call from DT.

  “Hi, mama,” I said when she picked up.

  “Where are you,” he said flatly, like he wasn’t asking a question.

  “Marcy from Persimmon is letting us use her studio,” I said. “Isn’t that adorable of her?”

  “Giltie Conshens.” I could just see DT shaking his head. “You just come and see me when y’all are done.”

  “Okay, mama,” I said in my best placating voice. I was glad he didn’t want to try to argue now. “I’ll hit you up later.”

  When I got to the front desk, the half shaved head white boy was still there, and he was still smacking on the gum.

  “Young man,” I said, coming toward him briskly.

  He looked up and when he saw me, I saw him do a little smirk. Oh, he did not want to be trying my patience tonight.

  “We have a problem,” I said. “In the back studio.”

  He frowned. “The back…”

  “Just come on!” I snapped, waving him toward me.

  When he got up, I saw that he had on another pair of those damn leggings. These weren’t white, they were pastel blue, but the effect was the same. They were practically see-through and I could practically see everything. And he did have some nice pale abdominals coming out of the waistband, I had to give him that.

  He must have noticed my eyes because his smirk deepened and he winked at me with one eye.

  I pursed my lips big style and jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “Let’s go, 80s.”

  “Whatties?” He said obliviously, catching up to me as I turned around and started marching back.

  “80s,” I said. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

  He grinned. “My name is Akaris,” he said.

  I looked at him. “Is that Greek?”

  He shook his head. “My parents are big D&D players,” he said. “I was named after some kind of dungeon lord or something.”

  “You sure don't look like you came out of a dungeon…” I trailed off. “What kind of players?” I asked.

  He just smirked even bigger, and then he ran his eyes down my body pointedly.

  “Let me give you an idea of how likely that is,” I said. “My ex served two tours of duty in Iraq.”

  He stuck out his tongue delightedly. “So did Soho Clemence,” he giggled.

  I rolled my eyes. He had to go and undermine my point. “My ex was infantry,” I snapped.

  “You know that women can serve in combat positions now,” he said, scrunched up his face, then darted out his tongue and touched it to his nose.

  I did not just see that. I did not.

  “Let me make this picture a little clearer for you,” I said, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway. We were getting a little too close to the studio for comfort and I didn’t exactly need this overheard. “He’s six foot one, weighs two hundred and fifteen pounds with a body fat percentage of seven.”

  I looked 80s up and down once more. He actually had a very good physique with a well-shaped musculature. I pegged him as a ballet dancer.

  But, still.

  My point stood.

  “Why’s he your ex, then?” 80s made an absurd face, like he was posing for an ugly selfie, and once again stuck out his incredibly long tongue.

  Which I was totally uninterested in.

  I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Come on,” I muttered, and started walking again. There was a short flight of stairs and a right-angle turn and then we were in the hallway again.

  I wrinkled my nose. I could smell it from here.

  Was it getting worse?

  I had turned on the heating full blast and shut all the windows before I left that morning. I figured Marcy wouldn’t make good on her threat to have someone check until we were actually rehearsing in there.

  “We opened the door,” Lucky Penny called.

  Now I could see they had retreated all the way to the end of the corridor, trying to get away from the smell.

  “We thought that might help,” Clarion Call called.

  “Sorry,” called Lucky Penny.

  “What on…” 80s muttered as we approached.

  It was time. I cracked my knuckles. “Now you see?” I raised my voice. “Can you smell that? This is a disgrace! A disgrace, I tell you!”

  80s turned and looked at me in alarm, then ducked into the room. “These heaters are on!” He cried, going around and touching them. “These aren’t supposed to be on.”

  I stood in the doorway with my arms crossed. I hoped the girls could hear this all the way down the hall. “That’s not my problem, 80s! We need to rehearse. We’ve missed fifteen minutes of rehearsal time already!”

  “But this studio isn’t even—”

  “Marcy authorized this,” I cut him off quickly. “Do you have a problem with Marcy?”

  His eyes opened wide in alarm. “No, no, of course not—” he raised his hands in front of him. “I just don’t understand how these heaters got turned on. The key is at the reception…”

  He looked at me, confused, and then a strange look appeared on his face.

  I didn’t like this 80s.

  Far too clever for his own good.

  And his package in those leggings looked far too delectable for my good.

  I shook my head to clear it of the mental image of his crazy long tongue and put my hands on my hips. “Well, I have the other key,” I said. “And I’ve had it since this morning. So, clearly, the fuck up was on your side.”

  His brown eyes got, if possible, even bigger.

  “Now,” I said. “I’m perfectly happy to let this little literal brain fart of yours slide.” I smiled. “There’s no need, in my eyes, to bother Marcy with this.”

  “Oh thank god,” he blurted out. “Thank you. Thank you.”

  “But you’ll need to help us out here,” I said, shaking my finger at him. I realized that the girls were all standing behind me in a line. Hopefully they’d heard most of what went before. “I have three talented artists here who need to perform.

  I saw 80s looking at the three of them.

  I saw 80s’ eyes linger on Anthony.

  And then I saw Miss Clarion Call notice 80s’ eyes lingering on Anthony, and she shifted position, making a movement toward him. It was enough.

  80s straightened up and turned back to me. “Of course,” he said. “I’m so sorry about this. Studio B is free tonight. The door is open. Please go right ahead.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Akari
s,” he said matter-of-factly. He seemed to be far too mortified to flirt any more.

  “Thank you, Akaris,” I said. “You’ve been so helpful.”

  “My pleasure,” he said stiffly. His cheeks were actually pink. I had to try pretty hard to suppress the smirk at his misfortune. Especially after his smart Aleck comments in the hall just now.

  “Okay girls,” I said to the others. “Follow me up to Studio B.”

  I allowed myself a smile as I led them to loftier heights. Studio B was a definite upgrade.

  By the time I got to the club that night, my headache had come back and wouldn’t respond no matter how many pills I threw at it. I was so tired my eyes were sandy and I felt like I needed to prop them open with toothpicks.

  I just entered through the customers’ door, waving at Phil the bouncer as I went. There wasn’t even a suggestion of a line. It looked like a quiet night—unfortunately.

  I slumped up to the bar and hauled my butt onto a bar stool.

  “Hey, mama,” I muttered sleepily, laying my head down on the bar, then picking it up again a half-second later. The bar was a bit sticky.

  “Hey, baby,” Ellegrandé said, reaching over and patting my shoulder.

  “How’s it going?”

  “What do you think?” Ellegrandé said rhetorically.

  The stage was empty and the club almost was. Weeknights were always quieter, but this was abnormal.

  The on-loan DJ was there in the DJ booth. He probably wasn’t too happy about it. The DJ booth had literally been converted from a broom closet.

  “People come here to see drag queens,” Ellegrandé commented. “I keep having to tell folks there’s no live show tonight. No-one’s staying long.” She sighed and shifted on the bar stool she was sitting on. She couldn’t do a whole night standing behind the bar, not in heels, not with her back.

  I looked around. The lack of seating didn’t help. There was nowhere to be unless you were standing there looking at the stage. But DT insisted there was no space for more seating.

  “So,” I said. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Machyl,” she sounded tired. She looked like she wanted to rub her forehead with the heel of her hand, but couldn’t because of her make up.

  “Mama,” I said. “We need to be at Persimmon to prepare this show. Did you know that Lucky Penny has only been doing drag for a month?”