The Accidental Human

by Dakota Cassidy

  And he, uh, she was. The colors Heath’d chosen were—much like last night with the vixen—spot on. His work was impeccable, too. He’d wielded the square sponge applicator like it was the equivalent of a remote to a big screen TV. His lean, tanned fingers had whisked over the planes of one contestant’s face as though Bobbie-Sue herself had taken over his body in some kind of kooky Linda Blair possession.

  And Wanda had thought more than once, What the bloody fuck? Where Heath had learned to apply makeup with such expertise remained another mystery. He’d also proven her wrong. She felt a smug attack from Heath coming on, and it left her unsure whether she should clap him on the back for being right, or deitz him in the head with two fingers for being right.

  Miss Egg Harbor waved a dismissive, bawdily bejeweled hand at her, tapping Wanda’s nose with a red Lee Press On nail. “Guuuurrrrlll, if I had your skin, I wouldn’t need foundation. And those lips. I’d kill you for them if you weren’t so damned nice.” She reached up and pinched Wanda’s cheek. “Skinny, but nice, and I think I owe you my left testicle for introducing me to the joys of Bobbie-Sue foundation. God saves rooms in Heaven for women like you, sugarplum.”

  It was all she could do not to let her mouth fall to the floor the entire time they’d been with the contestants. Heath had not only charmed his way backstage to the dressing room of Miss TransAmerica, but he’d sold twenty-two starter kits. Twenty-flippin’-two . He was like the color king or something.

  “This is faaaaabulous, Heath,” Miss Brick cooed, flicking the finishing powder over her face with a wide brush to set her makeup. “I cannot believe the coverage I’m getting from this foundation. It even hides my five o’clock shadow, but feels light as a fluffy feather. Where have you been all my life, Heath Jefferson?” Miss Brick batted one false eyelashed eye at him, cocking her shoulder flirtatiously.

  “I think you mean, where has Bobbie-Sue been all your life?” Heath quipped, slapping his newfound friend on the back. “So can I count you in for a starter kit, too?”

  Make that twenty-three starter kits.

  Oh, the neener, neeners she was in for now.

  Both Miss Brick and Miss Egg Harbor nodded their glossy, wigged heads. Miss Brick shimmied her backside against Heath’s hip. “Are you kidding me, dahhhhling? Finding Bobbie-Sue is like finding out George Clooney cross-dresses.You bet I want a starter kit, and I can name at least three of my friends who’ll want one, too, sugar lips. Hell, we’ll have all of the transgendered community buying from you.”

  Miss Hopatcong slithered up behind Heath, grabbing a handful of his ass-tastic butt and giving it a pinch. “Sweetness? Count me in, too,” she purred, draping a black-evening-length-gloved hand over his shoulder while dragging her finger over his cheek. In her three-inch stiletto heels, she loomed over Heath, curling her body into his back. Her long, platinum blonde tresses brushed his cheek with a sway and a swish. “You sure I can’t talk you into switching teams, honey? I’d be your tiara-wearin’ bitch any day of the week.”

  Heath unwound a lanky leg and turned, setting Miss Hopatcong away from him, his smile never faltering. “I’m pretty sure I play for the other team. But if I change my mind, you’ll be one of the first to get the bulletin on MySpace,” he joked.

  All of the contestants crowding the dressing room of Dirty Petey’s laughed, the round of husky chuckles, a drastic contrast to their very feminine outfits.

  The stage manager poked his head inside the door. “Ladies! Line up—it’s almost showtime!” Excited, nervous laughter was followed by each contestant taking a place in line.

  Miss Hackettstown hiked her gel breasts upward, shifting them into place with a shake and a jiggle, and smiled at Wanda. “Wish me luck, Princess!”

  “Luck!” Wanda yelled after her, giving her a thumbs-up. The sigh she gave as the last of the pageant contestants headed out to the stage consisted of a mixture of things. Regret that the makeover spree was done, and amazement that each and every one of them had not only filled out the Bobbie-Sue order forms, but handed over their credit cards to place their orders.

  “So I guess you can say it now, and we’ll get it out of the way.” Heath was still behind her, the heat from his tall body reaching out to hers, sending goose bumps willy-nilly along her arms.

  Wanda turned to face him, backing away from his close proximity. “Say what?”

  “That I was right.”

  “You were almost right.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Those aren’t really women.”

  “Ah, but in a dimly lit room, I’d dare you to say they weren’t.”

  “Not the same thing.”

  “I think I have to disagree with you. If I’m not mistaken, they feel like women, and wasn’t that speech you gave me back at your house all about how Bobbie-Sue can make a woman feel?”

  Point. Sort of. Cocky, but a point she had to concede. “Okay. I think. I don’t know. I say we pack it in and save the ‘I told you sos’.”

  “But I did.”

  “You did what?”

  “Tell you so.”

  Wanda rolled her eyes at him, pushing up the sleeves of her teal calf-length sweater dress, and busied herself scouting the tables for any unopened samples. “Fine, you told me. Okay? Now how ’bout you stop getting a hernia over patting yourself on the back and help me clean up this stuff.”

  He scooped a bunch of lipstick samples up in his palms and dumped them into a basket. “You’re mad.”

  So? “Why would I be mad?”

  “Because I was right.”

  Right is as right does. “This is the part where I remind you what a man you are. If you’re so secure in that manhood of yours, you wouldn’t need me to tell you you’re right.”

  He hovered close behind her, trailing her as she gathered product. “Question?”

  Christ. “Go.”

  “I don’t get why you’re mad. It seems counterproductive to me. I did just sell a bunch of makeup—and that makes you money—you should have your happy on. Instead, your mouth is all pinched, and I think I might see fire shooting from your nostrils. This was a coup for both of us, wasn’t it?”

  Yes, it’d been a coup, but in her experience, all good coups were like an adrenaline rush. They went down as quickly as they went up. She was still skeptical this would all pan out the way he thought it would. The real killer was, Heath had actually managed to rope some of the contestants into not just buying the makeup, but the starter kits, too. “I hate to be the glaring fluorescent lightbulb of reality, but you do realize they have five business days to back out. Not only that, statistically speaking, when those who bought the starter kits realize they have to actually work to find clients, more than half of them will turn tail and run.”

  He tossed the last of the foundation packets into the heavy suitcase she’d brought. “Yep. I know the statistics. I read them, and if that’s the case, then I guess we’ll be spending more time together. But if even half of them stay in the Bobbie-Sue program, I’ve already sold what, ten starter kits? Don’t be such a naysayer.”

  “Eleven and a half.” But really, who’s counting?

  He nodded, raising one eyebrow. “Exactly.”

  She turned to find him gazing down at her, his eyes full of the look of triumph.The Marty look—glowing with the victory of the kill. “Question?”

  Heath shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Hit me.”

  Because she just had to know. “What, in all of creation, made you think to scope a venue like this? I mean, never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought something like a pageant of this nature would drum up so much business.”

  “That’s because you’re a woman.”

  Her face instantly hardened. “Pardon?” She was a little tired of the knuckle-dragging comments.

  But that didn’t thwart his honesty. “I said, you’re a woman, and you think only other women wear makeup. It’s a natural conclusion. It was kind of an outside-of-the-box thing for me.
It’s not a fault on your part, just a gender thing, I guess. I happened to see the flyer for the pageant in a paper I was reading, and it dawned on me that this would be the perfect place to sell makeup. Even if it’s unconventional.”

  “It was genius,” she mumbled, unwilling to admit too loudly that he’d just set some kind of Bobbie-Sue sell-a-thon record.

  “Say again?” he prompted, sucking his cheeks in, clearly fighting off a grin.

  Wanda planted her hands on her hips and sighed out loud. “Okay, fine. It was genius.The thought never occurred to me. In a million, bazillion years, I’d have never thought to sell makeup to transvestites.”

  “Transgenders.”

  “Right, and on the way home, I’d really like the full explanation on the difference between the two. Because it seems, you’re the go-to guy and all. So kudos to thinking outside the box, if there is one,” she added dryly. “Now I have another question. How’d you know the foundation would do such a bang-up job of covering their facial hairlines?” She paused, then shook her head with a lift of her lips. “Wait, do I want to know?”

  He smiled, all cat-like and secretive. “Nope.You don’t want to know.”

  Wanda nodded her head and held up a hand. “That’s all you need to say. So do we have everything? Or are you interested in maybe sticking around to see if Miss Hopatcong brings the house down with her rendition of ‘Don’t Cry Out Loud’?”

  Heath’s laughter was gruff, but full and hearty. He ran a hand over his chin thoughtfully. “I liked Miss Hopatcong, but I think my money’s on Miss Aberdeen. Did you see her legs? They go on and on.” He held his hand up to his neck for emphasis.

  Wanda finally laughed, too, and it held a girly, giggly tone Nina’d crack on her about for days. But she couldn’t help it.There was just something about this man, something wildly sexy, something hotly secure about who and what he was that made her feel giddy. He’d had not a single qualm about coming here, a place most straight men would run out of slicker than snot runs out of a nose in winter. He’d waved tubes of makeup around, applied eyeshadow, glossed the lips of men, and never once batted a single, judgmental, mocking eye.

  That he hadn’t said word one about the fact that in reality, these were men who were dressed like women, was so—so—sooooo . . . just so. She hadn’t quite found the right adjectives to apply to Heath, but that he hadn’t had a field day with what some would consider out of their comfort zone left Wanda feeling some serious respect for him. Whether she wanted to or not.

  Wanda picked up her Bobbie-Sue case and shot him a half smile. “You know, if I were less secure in my womanhood, I’d be caaaaraaaazy jealous of Miss Aberdeen and those legs, but, Jesus, did you see Miss Allamuchy’s butt? Holy crack a walnut on it.”

  Heath took the suitcase from her, taking the lead out of the dressing room and down the long hall to the back exit. “I avoided butts. Sorry, there are just some places even I, secure in my manhood, can’t go. Legs couldn’t be helped when they’re wrapped around your waist.”

  Yeah, the contestants had all thought Heath was cute, too, and he’d pleasantly removed limbs and stray hands from his person like he’d been dealing with grabby toddlers in a candy store. “Okay, I just gotta know. How did you keep a straight face? You didn’t look at all uncomfortable when they came on to you, and you were more than a gentleman when Miss Hopatcong all but gave you a lap dance. Most men I know would have been embarrassed at the very least. In fact, I’m sorry to say it, but most of the men I know would have said some pretty cruel things to them.”

  Heath pushed open the heavy exit door, sunlight pouring over his sharp, handsome features. “Well, don’t you think they thought it was kind of strange that I, a straight guy, was selling makeup?”

  “Uh, yeah, but you already know how I feel about that. Remember, open mouth insert both feet?”

  “Yep, but here’s the thing. They didn’t judge me, did they?”

  “No. On the contrary, I think they all fell in love with you.”

  “Maybe so, but they were willing to give me a chance—a straight guy with color wheel charts and some lip gloss—why wouldn’t I do the same in return?”

  Touché.

  Wanda’s stomach growled, howling furiously as they left Dirty Petey’s. The smell of hot dogs from a nearby vendor called to her. She hadn’t been this hungry in a long time, especially after eating breakfast. Maybe the thrill of Heath’s triumph had stirred her appetite. She would, after all, be getting a serious paycheck even if half of the men bailed. But that thought came and went. She’d been so caught up in absorbing what a decent guy he was, in how accepting he was of men he claimed were so different than him, that in the end the money had never entered her mind.

  That’s ’cause you like him,Wanda. Despite the fact that he’s got no explanations for his designer suit and crappy car—you think he’s killa dreamy.

  She swept those thoughts away, instead focusing on the hot dog vendor. She’d begun to stray toward the hot dog cart instead of Heath’s car. “C’mon, I feel like a hot dog with everything on it. My treat,” she said, casting him a suddenly carefree smile.Wending along the sidewalk, she stopped in front of the cart.

  The vendor tightened his scarf around his neck, ducking from the sudden wind that had struck up. The tops of his cheeks were bright red, poking out from beneath, and his eyes watered. “What’ll ya have?”

  “One with everything, please. Heath?” She motioned for him to give his order.

  He stood behind her, sheltering her from the blast of cold air. “Sounds good to me. I’ll have the same.”

  Just his presence behind her made her knees quiver and her toes, which should be frozen, do that tingle thing again.

  “Here’s one for you, and one for your lady,” The vendor plopped two hot dogs in Heath’s hands, dripping with sauerkraut and mustard, but Wanda wasn’t paying attention to the food, she was staving off the soooo inappropriate twinge of schoolgirl silliness that had followed the hot dog vendor’s statement. The one Heath wasn’t correcting him about.

  She handed the vendor his money and took her hot dog from Heath. He paused before biting into his. A small peek of the sun filtered through the heavy gray and purple clouds, and Heath lifted his face upward as if he were basking in it. It was weak with little or no warmth to it, but he didn’t seem to notice. More clouds zoomed in to quickly cover it, but for that one moment, the serene calm that had flitted over his sharp features stole her breath away.

  Not that nearly everything this man did didn’t steal her breath. Or make her behave like what Nina called a fucktard.

  Heath took a healthy bite of his hot dog and grunted. “This,” he said, grabbing a napkin from the cart and wiping the side of his mouth with it, “is pretty damn great.” He winked, shoving another bite into his mouth as quickly as he’d chewed and swallowed the last.

  Wanda munched on hers thoughtfully.Yeah, it was a good hot dog, but it clearly didn’t leave her feeling as euphoric as it seemed to leave Heath. “Hmm-mmm,” she agreed, following his lead back down the sidewalk.

  Another gust of air swirled around them, lifting the scattered debris along the curb and making her shiver with a violent shake. Heath threw an arm around her, and although it appeared it meant nothing to him other than a way to brace themselves against the chill, it was way too close to leaving her breathless again. “It’s freeeeezing! And you have nothing more than a suit coat on.”

  His chuckle sent skitters of heat from her head to her toes. “It’s damned cold, but it’s good for you. Reminds you you’re alive.”

  “You’re going to get sick if you don’t wear something warmer.” She flicked at the breast of his coat with an icy finger.

  “The flu . . . also something to remind you you’re alive. All good things.”

  Alive.

  Yeah.

  What a fucking irony. It was at this very moment that she wanted to rail against the unfairness of her terminal illness. She wanted to scream her rag
e, throw things, out-swear Nina, stomp and rant. But she wouldn’t, because she just didn’t do public hissy fits. Not only was it un-Bobbie-Sue-like, it was in bad form. And Heath couldn’t possibly know how close to home his words were.

  She stopped when they got to his car, cocking a grin at him as he opened the door. “Well, if you get the flu, you won’t be in any condition to hit the transgendered pageant circuit. Ooooh, hurry up and start this thing. It’s flippin’ cold.”

  Heath walked around the car and got in, cranking up the heat, and reaching behind to the backseat to pull out a blanket. “Here, this’ll help until the heat kicks in.”

  Grateful, Wanda threw it over her legs and leaned her head against the window, closing her eyes, and letting go a small sigh because he wasn’t just hot, he was considerate.

  “Wanda?”

  She struggled to open her eyes, the low vibration of Heath’s voice seeping into her pores. It was warm where she was, warm and cozy, and Heath was interrupting a perfectly good catnap.

  He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. “Wanda, wake up.You’re home.”

  Her eyes popped open, but she couldn’t see much but whorls of blinding white snowflakes. They battered the car and danced across the beams of Heath’s headlights.

  Her heart clenched. She loved the snow. What if this was the last snowstorm she ever saw? A moment of regret shadowed her face, but she shook it off. “Ohhhhh. It’s snowing. Isn’t it beautiful? I love the snow. Love it. I know most people hate it. Hate to shovel it, hate to drive in it, but it makes me smile.”

  He nodded his head, a small smile tilting his lips upward. “I like the snow, too. Used to love to ski, but I have a long drive home, and if the temp is any indication, it’s probably going to freeze. So I’d better get going.”

  Impulse, something she wasn’t terribly prone to, made her speak without aid of her brain. “Oh, nooo.You can’t drive in this. It’s a blizzard out there. Why don’t you come in, and we’ll get some of this paperwork done while we wait it out. Maybe it’s just a squall and it’ll blow over, but for now, I wouldn’t drive anywhere.” Had that sounded overeager? Had the mere idea of him alone in her small house with just her and Menusha sent a chill of anticipation versus fear up her spine?