Seven Deadly Queens (The FuBar Book 3)

by Jess Whitecroft

  Stephen laughed again. Better. That was at least something Adam could do for him.

  “And it sucked for her,” Adam said. “It did. She was in terrible pain right after the surgery, but day-by-day, little by little, it got better. She started walking again. Then she started walking 5ks with Patrice. Then she started running 5ks. Then 8ks, 10ks. Then she started talking about half marathons. Now she’s talking about working her way up to the New York marathon in a year or two. And you know what she says now?”

  Stephen nodded. “That she could never have done it with her old hip.”

  “You got it. She says ‘I can’t believe I put up with that shit for so long. I should have had the surgery much sooner.’ Go easy on yourself, sweetie. You’re still post surgical. Still bruised. Somewhat scabby.”

  “Ew.”

  “You wait. You’ll be terrific. You’ll be getting your freak on with produce in no time.”

  Stephen scrunched up his nose. “I’m not sure I’m into produce.” He shifted in his chair. “Actually I think I might be produce post-traumatic. I don’t have the best record with fruit and vegetables. Like that time I popped my testicles back inside and I forgot that I’d been chopping chili peppers for dinner? Remember?”

  Bunny shuddered. “I will never forget your screams. They haunt my nightmares even today.”

  “I swear that’s when my left nut developed a case of agoraphobia, you know.”

  “Well, you can hardly blame it. If that’s what you do to it. Poor thing’s swinging free, minding its own business, and then you poke it back inside your body cavity with a chili stained finger. I’d retreat from the world if someone did that to me. Fuck that noise. No wonder it became a weird shut-in.” Adam leaned forward to remove his eyeliner with a q-tip. “You’re gonna be fine, sweetie. You’re going to be doing strange, fucked up kinky shit in no time.”

  “I don’t know,” said Stephen. “I think my idea of kinky shit and yours might be a little bit different. I think I’m kind of vanilla.”

  “Says the girl who got high and peed on the bartender.”

  “One time, Bunny. One fucking time.”

  “Well, I’ve never done that. I’m just saying. Watersports are definitely not vanilla.”

  “Neither are threeways,” said Stephen. “And besides, you do that shit when you’re sober. I was on molly.”

  Adam groaned. “Oh my God. Threesome with Justin on molly. Can you fucking imagine?”

  “No.”

  “I can. That’s the one down side of dating a schoolteacher. The possibility of random piss tests. That and he won’t let me make a sex tape.” Adam sighed heavily. “Anyway, it’s all academic right now, pun not intended. Apparently Justin’s not doing that any more.”

  Stephen caught Adam’s eyes in the mirror and double taked. “Wait, what? Justin turned down a threesome?”

  “Yep. He’s gone full on abstinent. Says he’s not having sex with anyone.”

  Stephen’s reaction was odd, to say the least. “Motherfucker.”

  “What? Helena? Do you know something about this?”

  “I do,” said Stephen, getting up from his chair in a rage. “And it’s fucking bullshit. This was not part of the deal.”

  “Deal?” said Bunny, but Helena was already flouncing upstairs like a fifties housewife who had run out of pills. “Jesus, nobody tells me anything any more.”

  7

  Luis was still up. He was curled in the armchair in the corner of the living room, sketching busily, drawings scattered on the floor at his feet.

  “Hey,” Justin said, stepping between the pictures. High fashion drawings. The figures were impossibly tall, long and lean. They stood with their noses – described by a thin pencil slash – in the air, their faces barely there, because the pictures weren’t about them, after all. They were all about the clothes, annotated here and there with little pencil scribbles in miniature handwriting – dart here, hand stitch detail, measurement? “Brought you something to drink.”

  Luis looked up at the glass in Justin’s hand. “Thanks. Looks good, but I’m not supposed to have booze, remember?”

  “It’s cool,” said Justin. “I made it virgin, just for you.”

  The kid’s eyes lit up. He wanted that drink so bad, as Justin knew he would. Eight months was a long time when you were young. Eight months without glitter and cocktails and painted toenails, and all the other things that made a baby drag queen’s heart flutter. “It’s like a virgin mojito,” Justin said, as Luis sipped and sighed. “With a dash of bitters. Heavy on the mint. You like mint flavored things, right?”

  “I love them. Thank you. This is so good.” His eyes were puffy. Had he been crying? “You really know your stuff.”

  “Meh. It’s my thing,” said Justin, perching on the edge of the couch. “Helena does magic tricks, Bunny does jokes, and I do booze. You gotta do your thing, I figure. Oh, speaking of, I filmed some of Bunny’s routine for you. It’s fucking funny. You want to see?”

  “Nah. It’s cool. I don’t like watching people I know perform. Kind of makes me nervous.”

  “Okay,” said Justin, putting his phone away. It was a unsatisfying kind of answer, especially coming from a drag queen, but he accepted it. For now.

  He looked down at the drawings again. Evening gowns and high-necked capes and reversibles. One of them drew his eye. Red. Low backed. Slinky as hell.

  “Is this it?” he said.

  “Hmm?”

  “The dress. The Lust dress. You said it would have to be red. Slut scarlet.”

  Luis looked down at the drawing. “Yep. That’s the one. It’s gonna be a challenge, for sure. Satin always is. Your seams have to be perfect, but I think I can hand stitch a lot of it. Real couture.”

  “You really want to make it, don’t you?” said Justin, seeing the light in the kid’s eyes.

  “Duh. I’m dying to sew anything that isn’t a fucking mailbag.”

  “And you want me to wear it?”

  Luis shrugged and stirred his drink. “Why don’t you want to wear it?”

  “Because I’m a boy.”

  “So? You’re all boys. Especially Stephen. He owns more flannel shirts than wigs, and he can belch like Barney Gumble. It’s just drag. It’s not a threat to your manhood.”

  “No, I know that, but I don’t know. I just…” Justin ran his fingers through his hair and tried to think of the right words. “I feel like I might…like I might get lost somehow?”

  “Lost?”

  “Yeah. It’s hard to explain. Something Sheila said. Like ‘Bunny will do your hair and Helena will do your make up,’ and someone else will dress me and then…where am I? Where’s Justin? What do I bring to this picture?”

  “You,” said Luis. “You bring yourself.”

  “Yeah, but is that really enough?”

  It felt like a big question with a complicated answer, and he could see Luis chewing it over, too, but then Stephen came up in a snit.

  “Justin, what the hell is going on with you?” he said. He was in sweats and an old t-shirt, and his face was shiny with cold cream. He’d combed out his girl curls and tied them back in a powder puff looking ponytail in the back. It was just as well, because Justin was in no mood to argue with anyone, least of all a drag queen dressed up as a strawberry shortcake.

  “I don’t know,” said Justin. “But whatever it is, can we do this another time?”

  “No,” said Stephen. “Bunny says you’re turning down threesomes now. You can’t just stop having sex with everyone. That’s cheating.”

  “Is not.”

  “Is, too. Were you even gonna tell me about this?”

  “Excuse me?” said Luis. “Since when was his sex life any of your damn business?”

  Stephen blinked, clearly taken aback by the discovery that the new baby was cutting her teeth already. “Since we made a bet,” he said. “I got two hundred bucks riding on this.”

  “What? On whether Justin fucks or not?”
>
  “It’s a little more specific than that,” said Stephen, hands on hips. “And I don’t have to tell you anything more about it, Miss Rose. All I can tell you is that suddenly taking a vow of chastity was not part of the terms and conditions.”

  “Whatever,” said Justin. “You made a shit ton of rules up on the fly. Don’t be pissed that you missed that one.”

  Stephen opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish. “No way. It was assumed—”

  “—your mistake,” said Justin. “That’s what you get for making assumptions. Don’t be getting your pink panties in a wad because I found a loophole, Steve. You thought you didn’t leave any, but you did.”

  There was a seething silence, broken only when Luis hit the bottom of his virgin mojito and slurped.

  “So, what?” said Stephen. “You’re just gonna become a monk now?”

  “Maybe,” said Justin. “I’m all about the platonic these days.”

  “Platonic?”

  “Oh yeah. I know Plato.”

  Stephen snorted. “Plato, my ass. Bunny and Ryan want to turn you into a goddamn sandwich. There is no way you’re ever going to close your legs on that opportunity. That’s like, your favorite thing ever.”

  It was, but Justin had never seen Stephen get this competitive before, and it was kind of fun to poke the bear. “Okay,” he said. “Fuck it. Double or nothing, Helena. What do you say?”

  “Four hundred bucks? Are you insane?”

  “Are you chicken?” said Luis.

  Stephen stared once more. “Are you cheerleading?”

  “Hell, yeah,” said Luis, with a grin. “Team Justin. He can turn down a threeway, easy. We’re Catholics, bitch. We do Lent.”

  “What the fuck, Rose? When did this get so competitive?”

  “Get?” said Justin. “You started it. I’m gonna finish it. I’m not only gonna win the original bet, but I’m gonna clean you the fuck out. How about we make it five hundred, and I don’t have sex for the remainder of the year?”

  “That’s literally ten days,” said Stephen. “You’ll never make it.”

  “Can and will.”

  “Can’t and won’t. I know you, Justin. You’ll be lying there in your attic, listening to Ryan bang Bunny, and you won’t be able to resist. Not when you have an engraved invitation to join in.”

  Justin held out a hand. “Five hundred.”

  Stephen took it, and shook it, a little too hard. Oh, he was determined. Justin could see it in those bronze-green eyes, but he had no idea what he was up against. “Five hundred,” Stephen said. “Hope you can afford it.”

  Justin grinned. “Bring it, bitch. You have no idea how stubborn I can be.”

  They watched him go. Luis cracked ice between his back teeth. “If you ever need me to cockblock them…” he said, when Stephen was out of earshot.

  “Cockblock who?”

  “Bunny,” said Luis, stifling a yawn. “And Ryan. If they’re making too much noise and getting you too horny I can always crawl in bed with them.”

  Justin frowned. This was…unusual. And how was that supposed to help?

  “Oh, it’s not sexual,” said Luis, recognizing his confusion. “Same as when I got into bed with you. It’s just…” He shrugged and looked sheepish. “I don’t sleep alone so good since they put me in solitary. You know, after I broke that guy’s nose and all that…”

  “You did what?”

  Luis shrugged again. “He called me a faggot. And a she-male.”

  “Rude.”

  “It was. That’s why I took it upon myself to perform an attitude adjustment with a lunch tray. I’m not sure if I changed his opinion, but I definitely changed his face.”

  “Yikes. You’re kind of scary. I’m glad you’re on my side.”

  Luis slurped at the melted dregs of his drink and grinned. “Stick with me, kid. I learned all kind of interesting things in the big house.”

  *

  “Emergencccccyyyy!” Sheila came skidding into the bar so fast she nearly burned through the soles of her Vivienne Westwood pirate boots. “Fucking crisis!”

  “Oh God, what now?” said Helena, who was busy reupholstering the pink fainting couch in silver velvet.

  “Who got Groupon Botox this time?” asked Bunny, staple gun in hand.

  “Venus,” said Sheila.

  Bunny couldn’t resist an inappropriate fist pump. “Yesss. Thank you, God. Is it bad? Is she like, full-on stroke face with it?”

  “No. She didn’t get Groupon Botox.”

  Bunny drooped. “Aw. Why are you toying with me, you monster?”

  “She’s got some gig in New York,” said Sheila, grabbing a chair. “Leaving on the twenty-seventh. So the only day she can do the group shots is the twenty-sixth.”

  Tess, who had been at the other end of the bar, stepped in. “The day right after Christmas?” she said. “Does she have any conception of how hungover…oh, wait, she totally does, doesn’t she? She’s counting on us all looking like absolute crap.”

  “Can’t you just get another Envy?” said Helena.

  Sheila shook her head again and sighed. “You know I can’t. She’s got us all by the balls with her massive Instagram following, and she knows it.”

  “Why?” said Bunny, turning dramatic. “I mean, seriously. Why do they follow her? One angle. That’s it. She has one fucking angle. And that menagerie of pastel wigs. Ugh.”

  “Simmer down, Bun,” said Sheila. “I’ve got enough to worry about. I’m still short of a Lust, Greed is under house arrest and somehow I have to pull this whole thing off by Wednesday. And then there’s you.”

  “Me?” Bunny blinked. “What did I do?”

  “Darling, there’s a reason I picked you for Wrath, but you’re going to have to rein it in a bit. If Rose can’t leave the bar then we’re going to have to do the group shots here.”

  The other shoe dropped. “And you want me to not kill Venus?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” said Sheila.

  “I’ll behave,” said Bunny, pouting. “I can’t vouch for Helena though.”

  Helena peeked up from behind the back of the couch. “Me? I don’t give a shit. Actually we talked.”

  “You did? About what?”

  “This and that,” said Helena. “I said I was over the whole thing and we’re cool.”

  “Really?” said Bunny, with that wide-eyed, innocent look that said she was brewing up evil.

  Helena nodded. “Yep. Although she did seem skittish, like she was expecting me to come hard for her for some reason.”

  Bunny’s eyes got wider.

  “Would you know anything about that, Bunny?”

  “Not a thing,” said Bunny, although Justin – who had been watching the entire summit from the end of the bar – spotted a look between Bunny and Tess that said Bunny knew something.

  “So,” said Sheila. “Can we do this?”

  Helena screwed up her nose. “By Wednesday? I don’t know, honey. It’s tight. And it’s Christmas.”

  “We can do this,” said Bunny. “We’re professionals, darling. Unlike certain people, who give five days notice before scooting their bland little snatches off to New York.” She glowered. “What the fuck do they want with her in New York anyway? It’s not like their drag scene is short of immature looks queens with good eyebrows and bad personalities.”

  Sheila sighed. “Well, she’s going. Which is another headache I don’t need, so if you could try not to ax murder her, that would be great. And I’m still short of a Lust.”

  Justin stirred. Time to do something unexpected. “Okay,” he said.

  They all turned to stare at him. You could have parked a Buick in Bunny’s mouth.

  “Okay?” said Sheila.

  “Yeah. Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Sheila rushed over to the bar, took Justin’s face between both hands and planted one on his lips. “Justin, you fucking beauty.”

  “Yeah, all right,” said Justin, wriggling away. Over Shei
la’s shoulder he could see that Helena was taking way more interest in the kiss than was polite. Probably checking for tongues, which was the next layer of made-up bullshit rules. Give Helena an inch and she’d withhold that five hundred bucks because Justin gave someone a Christian side-hug under the mistletoe one time.

  “You’ve saved my life,” said Sheila. “How can I make it up to you?”

  Justin groaned. He could think of about two dozen ways, all of them dirty, and many of them of involving Sheila on her knees. One of her hobbies was playing the trumpet, and it had made her really good at holding her breath. “Uh…not right now,” he said. “I’m not having sex at the moment.”

  Sheila took a step back. “Shit. You got the clap or something?”

  “No. I’m trying to be a better Catholic.”

  Sheila blinked.

  “Okay, I’m trying to win a bet,” said Justin, lowering his voice.

  “Oh. Right. That sounds a lot more like you.”

  “He’s closed the candy store, honey,” said Bunny. “It’s a national tragedy. I can’t even entice him into bed with the promise of stripper heels, garter belts and spanking paddles.”

  “Yeah, excuse me a moment,” said Justin, and escaped. Paddles. Of all the fucking things for Bunny to bring up. Bunny – face down, ass up, peachy cheeks a ripe, freshly spanked pink. Red spiked heels falling off his toes.

  This was goddamn ridiculous. Unnatural. Here he was, living in some kind of jeweled candy box where hot men dressed up as sluts for a living, and he wasn’t allowed to bone any of them. This was some Twilight Zone shit, like the guy who finally had time to read all the books in the world and then broke his glasses.

  “Fucking Helena,” he muttered, stomping up the stairs with a plan in mind. He had that one bright pink dildo that attached to the bottom of the bath with suction cups. Smoke a bowl, sit on that and jack it until he was firing dry.

  The door to the apartment was ajar. Justin remembered Luis was in there, once again left out, plugged into the mains while the others did their things downstairs. He went in, and found Luis busy, kneeling on the floor and hot gluing tiny rhinestones to the heels of a pair of sandals. Luis didn’t see him come in at first, and seeing the kid alone was somehow special, like walking through the woods and coming across a deer or a rabbit, some wild little creature that had no idea you were there.