Fishy Queen (Drag Queen Beauty Pageant Book 2)

by Malachite Splinters

“What he said,” Anthony indicated Clarion, who was getting into downward dog.

  I pursed my lips. The boy’s hindquarters were on full display facing us in the morning light coming in through the big leaded glass windows. I watched Anthony’s face to see if he was going to let his eyes linger in any particular area.

  But he didn’t.

  He looked back at me. The same sun rays came in and glanced across his face, making him squint a little.

  He wasn’t wearing any colored contact lenses today. I waited for the days when he didn’t wear them. Seeing his eyes without that layer of protection made them look vulnerable, unguarded somehow.

  On those days, like today, his eyes were black and very large, except now, with the sun illuminating his face. The light caught on his irises and made them glow deep mahogany brown.

  “She’s giving up the lease on the apartment,” Anthony said. “So I—” he covered his face with his hand, and I could see him scrunching up his eyes behind it. “I have to be out by the end of the month.”

  “That’s in two days,” I remarked.

  He nodded and burst into tears again.

  I felt the strange urge to reach out and touch his shoulder to reassure him, and then I remembered when I had wrapped my arms around him in the Portuguese restaurant on Tuesday night. I had felt his narrow shoulders between my arms and the outline of his spare ribcage.

  I looked at the orangey-red hue of the smoothie in his non-crying hand. That was okay to look at, okay to think about. Nothing wrong with a fruit smoothie.

  “So is she always a massive bitch,” I asked, “or is it just this one time?”

  He took his hand away from his face and looked at me reproachfully with those enormous brown eyes. “What did you just call my mother?”

  I couldn’t win with this boy.

  “Massiveb Itch?” I said, enunciating carefully. “It happens to the best of us when someone spills the itching powder and there’s a typo in there somewhere.”

  He looked back at me for several seconds, and then seemed to understand that I had made a joke, and his lips lifted ever so slightly at the corners.

  He put the straw in his mouth again and inhaled more of his smoothie. He had such full lips, even wrapping around a straw didn't seem to lessen their plumpness.

  I realized I had just licked my lips and then, I felt my face getting hot.

  Why was my face getting hot?

  Was I embarrassed?

  Why was I embarrassed?

  “She found out about something,” Anthony said, putting the smoothie cup back down.

  “And what was that?” I asked, leaning on one arm on the mat. My voice sounded different than I had expected. It sounded soft and warm.

  He looked at me again for a minute, then adjusted his position from cross-legged to butterfly, putting his feet in white socks against each other and looking at them.

  “In the summer she said I had to start community college,” Anthony said quietly. “Or she wouldn’t let me live in the apartment any more.”

  I frowned. “Where does your mom live?”

  “Oh,” Anthony sighed. “She went back to Paris last winter. She was—sick of me.”

  Back to Paris?

  It was news to me there was a connection.

  “I enrolled in August,” Anthony said.

  It was also news to me Anthony was doing anything more with his days than sleeping in and going shopping.

  “So what’s the problem?” I asked. “Did you not make the grades she wanted or something?”

  He looked at me. “Grades?” He said in surprise. “No, she just wanted me to go…”

  “And?” I pressed, losing patience.

  “She got an email from them to say—I can’t remember what the term is…” he trailed off, raising his knees and wrapping his arms around them.

  “Sounds like it’s going really well,” I said sarcastically.

  He scowled at me. “I won’t say anything else, then,” he snapped. “I don’t know why I even started telling you.”

  “What, did she find out that you hadn’t been attending class?” I asked, massaging my temples. Anthony was as entitled as a member of the aristocracy and as lazy as sin.

  “Those classes were idiotic,” Anthony hissed, turning on me so fast his braids flew through the air. “A pointless exercise in churning out mindless drivel.”

  “You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, don’t you,” I didn’t mean for it to come out as a snarl, but it did.

  “I don’t care about being better,” Anthony retorted. “I won’t be an unquestioning automaton carrying out orders just because everyone else is doing it.”

  “Then you’ll be uneducated,” I said in disgust.

  “I don’t care as long as I don’t have to pretend to care about fucking statistics,” Anthony pouted, shaking his braids again.

  I shook my head. He was so arrogant. If anyone needed an example of privilege in action, it was Anthony Alcantara.

  “Do you have any idea how hard I had to work,” I leaned toward him. “To get where I am now? My parents aren't wealthy. They’re first-generation immigrants who had to work for everything they gave us. Do you know what the odds are against someone like me getting into a Hedera Group school? I had to get perfect grades in high school. And then I had to get perfect grades in college to be accepted into a top graduate program. I had to compete with thousands of other candidates to get the position I did in one of the biggest audit firms in the world. I worked damn hard so I can work sixty-hour weeks. I sleep at the office at least once a month. And as a big thank you for all my trouble, I have six figures of student debt hanging over my head, so with all of that, I’m still not even saving any money!”

  When I broke off I was panting, leaning forward over the mats toward Anthony and I realized that spit was flying out of my mouth all over the canvas cover of the mat.

  He was leaning back as far as he could to put distance between us, and his mouth was set and he was staring back at me with his big dark eyes.

  He glanced to the side and when I did the same, I realized that Clarion Call, Lucky Penny and Duane Tyrone were all standing there in a row with their arms crossed, watching.

  “And that,” Anthony said quietly, his voice harder than I had ever heard it, “is exactly the life I don’t want.”

  Then he got up off the mat quickly and ran over to Clarion and pressed his face into his shoulder. Clarion enfolded Anthony in his arms and gave me the dirtiest look I had seen outside of a municipal dump.

  I sat back on my butt, feeling my face heating up so hot that if anyone wanted breakfast and had brought eggs, we were good. The heat spread from my face all the way down my chest and inward to my heart, which was racing. I swallowed uncomfortably.

  “Girls,” DT said, nodding to the new recruits. “Go warm up. Tata and Giltie Conshens, come with me.”

  He started walking over to the far corner of the studio. I got up slowly and followed. The heat on my face and chest had spread to my whole torso, inside and out, and it kept getting hotter. I almost felt an edge of panic as my heart raced and my mind started to race, too.

  Anthony was following, slowly, his arms crossed, and he wasn’t looking at me.

  “Come here,” DT gestured to him, making him come closer. Duane turned to me and indicated Anthony. “Apologize.”

  An opposite force burst into life in my body. It was heavy, with the pull of magnetism, and it wrestled with the heat, fighting against it. “What for?” I jutted my chin out in Anthony’s direction.

  His eyes met mine, and the heat launched a counterattack against the magnetism and it got even hotter and that seemed to stimulate the panic, which fed back to make the heat hotter until I didn’t think I could stand it any more.

  Duane Tyrone was gazing at me with his heavy eyes. “Giltie Conshens,” he said. “I’m ashamed of you.”

  I looked at the floor, noticing the scratches in the surface and a small and
fragile-looking dust bunny which was trying to blow against my shoe.

  “Sorry,” I said, but the magnetism rebelled against the word and made it come out harsh and grudging and the heat burning me up hated the word too, and made my voice sound weak and like I wanted to take the word back and hide it in the depths of my body, so no-one could see it and know it needed to be said.

  “If I’m not convinced, he won’t be either,” DT said. “Try again later when you really mean it.” He took a deep, wheezing breath. “What’s the problem, ladies?”

  Anthony twisted one sock-covered foot on the dance floor. “I don’t have anywhere to live,” he said.

  “Ever hear of renting?” DT said impassively.

  Anthony crossed his arms tighter across his chest. I wasn’t looking at him in any way that would risk meeting his eyes, but I could see that’s what his arms were doing.

  “I don’t have any money,” Anthony said quietly.

  Silence followed this announcement. Duane Tyrone sighed big time, raised his hands on top of his head and pressed down with his eyes closed.

  Thinking of logical and rational, impassive facts, I thought, might have a cooling effect on the burning of my body. I would recite mathematics to myself in my head. Calculus, that would help, surely. Or should I go over the main points of a client’s portfolio which I had been working on recently? That was so boring, it had to staunch the flames consuming me.

  “Machyl,” DT said, opening his eyes and looking at me. “You have a spare bedroom, if I’m not mistaken.”

  My eyes opened wide in outrage. “It’s—it’s not a spare bedroom,” I protested, then fell silent. It was awkward to explain that my current-non-boyfriend needed that room to be empty for sex reasons.

  “Hogwash,” DT said calmly. “Anthony, you will move into Machyl’s spare bedroom.”

  “I can’t live with him!” Anthony cried, pointing at me. “Didn’t you see what he just did to me?”

  The heat roared back to life like someone turning the gas up way too high on the stovetop. I crossed my arms tightly. The heat wouldn’t let me talk, but then the heavy force that wanted to crush it barged in and burst out, “DT, you have an empty bedroom now.”

  DT turned to me and I could clearly read the disbelief etched on his features. I shouldn’t have said that, the burning fire confirmed. No, I should not.

  The problem with two opposing forces of equal power was that they were fundamentally so different that each one had no power over the other. Magnetism, or whatever the heavy force was, could not affect fire and vice versa. It was a battle that could never be won.

  Duane drew himself up to a greater height. “I am not taking applications for a new roommate at this time,” he said. “What I said, stands.”

  “How is he supposed to pay me rent if he has no money?” I asked, the force swelling hard in my chest, trying to press the fire out of existence.

  DT huffed. “Who’s paying that rent now?” He glared at me. “You are.”

  My arms felt as heavy as lead as the magnetic force crossed them across my chest resolutely. “I’m not taking him unless he pays half the rent.”

  “Giltie Conshens,” Duane growled. He was mad. I could tell he was really mad.

  Anthony turned to Duane Tyrone. “I want a salary,” he said.

  DT’s expression turned to one of sheer dumbfounding as he looked at Anthony. “Excuse me?”

  Anthony pointed at me. “Pay me a salary, and I’ll be able to pay him rent. You’ve never paid me a cent. I want to be paid.”

  Duane gazed at Anthony. “Baby drags don’t get paid. You get training for free. When you’re ready to start bringing cash through the door, you can have some of the proceeds.”

  “No,” Anthony’s jaw was set and I could see his slight body trembling, but he kept going. “Damaris told me that her apprentice period was only three months. I’ve been with you over a year.”

  “You would be getting paid if you were performing,” DT said flatly. “If you can’t perform, you’re nothing but a drain on resources.”

  “You just mentioned training. I didn't get any training when I started here.” Anthony’s eyes fell on me. “It was nothing but him yelling at me and tell me how terrible I was until I gave up.”

  The burning flames licked through me until I wanted to jump out of my body to get away from them.

  “Marcus told me you had neglected my talents,” Anthony stood up straighter. “And he offered me a job at his drag house in London.”

  Duane’s eyes opened wide. “You better be careful what you say, little miss. That’s disloyalty in New York drag.”

  “Loyalty?” Anthony was visibly shaking now. “You really think I have that much loyalty to your ridiculous closed system, when you’ve shown no loyalty to me?” I could see his lip trembling and it was clear that at any minute, the tears were going to start falling again. But he stood his ground, his feet planted squarely on the floor. “When I walked out the door on Monday, you didn’t say a word. Now you suddenly want me back. I have options,” he glared at both of us. “Don’t think for a second I don’t have options. If you want me here, act like it. Prove it to me. Because the next time I walk out that door, it’ll be the last. This is your last chance.”

  DT gazed back at Anthony with his lips pursed. “Big talk. And yet you won’t attend the training I assigned.”

  Anthony looked back at DT for a long minute, then gestured at me. “Ask him about that.”

  DT frowned, put his hand on his hip, and looked at me. “Is there something I need to know?”

  The forces in me seemed to be fused in battle right in the middle of my chest, pulling in opposite directions. I couldn’t look at either of them. “I—didn’t tell him what you told me to do,” I admitted.

  DT blinked at me, then looked at Anthony and then back at me. “Really?” He asked.

  “He was trying to make me look bad in your eyes,” Anthony clarified. “But luckily, I got, let’s say, a tip off of what he was up to. As for the weekday rehearsals, I’m happy to do them, but he hasn’t offered any.”

  Duane’s arms were akimbo and he advanced on me and jabbed his index finger into my chest, then pointed at Anthony. “You’ll get your rent. But from now on, you follow my instructions to the letter. And if I hear that you disobeyed me again, you’ll know what it’s like when I make good on consequences.”

  DT turned to Anthony. “You didn’t leave. You were expelled for fraternization. You’re the one being given a second chance here. The only reason you were allowed to come back was because that was an internal rule, not one set centrally. So don’t start thinking you can sass me and get your way any time you get a new idea in your head. And tread carefully. Because the next time, your transgressions might be enough to land you in front of the drag mothers. And believe me, Miss Thing, that’s not a place any queen wants to find herself.”

  Anthony’s hands were clenched in fists at his sides as he looked up into DT’s face like a thunderhead. “I won’t do mingle duty any more,” he said.

  DT quirked one eyebrow. “So you still think you can dictate terms to me?”

  “It’s nothing but an opportunity for harassment,” Anthony said. “Damaris wouldn’t do it, and neither will I.”

  Duane narrowed his eyes at Anthony. “You better have a pretty damn good show for us then.”

  “I will,” Anthony spat. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

  DT looked between the two of us. “I have nothing more to say to you two at this time.”

  And with that, Duane Tyrone moved away from us. I saw him go and introduce himself to Lucky Penny and Clarion Call.

  “Well, good morning to all of you fine and fabulous queens,” Duane Tyrone had folded his hands and raised his voice, looking around at room.

  Anthony stood there silently, and I felt the awkwardness of being forced to stand there next to each other while DT started a speech.

  “I’d like to let you know that we wi
ll not be rehearsing tomorrow. I haven’t had a chance to meet your better selves yet, and our photographer needs to spend some time with you for promotional reasons. So, let’s meet tomorrow at eleven at House Ellegrandé. Bring all your drag swag and be ready to get gorgeous. Of course, we have additional costumes, wigs, shoes, and other equipment in our dressing room, which the lovely Giltie Conshens will be delighted to show you.” DT inclined his head regally, then raised his hand and waved. “Until then, ladies.”

  And with that, he sailed out of the room and the door closed behind him.

  Anthony’s arms were crossed and he looked sullen.

  The terrible heat was back, again, and it didn’t feel any less than it had fifteen minutes ago.

  It was so intense that I felt panicky again.

  When was it ever going to go away?

  “Um,” I said. “Do you need to sleep at my place tonight?”

  “No. I’ll just start moving my things over tonight.”

  “You can bring your stuff over whenever. I’ll, um. I’ll give you the key. I have to go to work after rehearsals. I’ll probably be home by eleven. Just text me so I can be home before you leave. And I’ll give you the spare key.”

  Anthony didn't say anything, just walked away.

  And that was when I thought the flames were going to engulf me and that spontaneous combustion thing was actually going to happen to me for real.

  And maybe that would be a good idea and would solve some of my problems, if I just burned up and stopped being here at all.

  “You should have us doing more active warm-ups.”

  Clarion’s voice, loud and with a distinctly opinionated tone running through it, drifted over to me where I was sitting opening browser tabs for the music we would be using today.

  In the last ten minutes since DT left, the atmosphere had turned arctic. No-one was talking and I sat by myself on the side while they half-heartedly went through my stretch routine.

  I looked up. “Sorry?”

  “You know, like squats, push-ups, lunges, sit-ups,” Clarion said, undoing his legs from the butterfly stretch I had prescribed.

  I raised one eyebrow delicately. His knees had been way high. “This ain’t the US military, sweetheart.”