Ivan didn’t seem the least bit suspicious when I asked where Randall was taking him on their date. It makes me wonder if I should have more faith in him. He’s probably going on the date to be nice, like he said he was. At the same time, I can’t take that chance. I need to see with my own eyes how he gets on with Randall.
I get into drag at Kara and Chris’s house. Kara is also going in drag to avoid arousing suspicion. Grandma shakes her head when she sees the both of us in Kara’s room switching genders.
“How do we look?” I ask Chris.
“Like you need better lighting,” he says.
“You’re not going like that, are you?” Kara says. “They’ll recognize you.”
“Randall doesn’t see me when I walk past him in the halls at school,” Chris says. “He definitely won’t notice me at a restaurant.”
“Put my clothes on,” I say. “No one will recognize you in primary colours.”
We drive to the Dugout in their parents’ car. It’s a crisp November Saturday afternoon. I thank the Goddess it isn’t raining, or it would ruin the three layers of wigs I used to create my Amy Winehouse hair. I check myself one last time in the rearview mirror before we get out of the car.
“You look good,” Kara says. “Miss Bill would
be proud.”
“Kara’s right,” Chris says. “Your drag suits
you now.”
“Thanks, I needed to hear that,” I say. “Now let’s keep Randall’s claws off my boyfriend.”
We spot Ivan and Randall right away. They’re seated at a table near the window where everyone on the street can see them. I lower my head so they won’t recognize me.
“Chin up, face forward and flashy those pearly whites of yours,” Kara says.
I throw my shoulders back and walk into the Dugout like the diva I am.
“Table for three please,” I say to the first person
I see.
“I don’t work here,” the person says.
“Rude,” Chris mutters.
We are seated far enough away from Randall and Ivan’s table that they can’t see us. A pair of swishy queens wearing checkered curling pants comes to our table to pay their respects to Kara and me. One of them tells me Abundance O’Caution, the manager at Poodles, is looking at new acts for her show.
“She is?” I say, taking my eyes off Ivan and Randall for a second.
“She can be a harsh bitch, so make sure you know all your words or she will read you to filth,” says one of the curlers.
“She knows from experience,” says the other, gesturing at her friend.
The curling queens finally leave our table. I go right back to staring at Ivan and Randall. They look like they’re having a good time. Too good a time. They look like they were made for each other. Both of them are handsome and athletic. I look like Ed’s little sister by comparison.
“Are you okay?” Kara asks. “We can go.”
“Not yet,” I say. “I need a sign that Ivan is into him. Once I have that, I can have some closure on this whole experience.”
Ivan gets up from the table. He’s looking around the restaurant for something. His eyes meet mine and he starts walking toward our table. My heart swells in anticipation. He slows down like he recognizes me. Then he continues to walk past us with confidence and follows the sign pointing toward the restrooms.
“It’s time to go,” I say.
“We haven’t paid the bill,” says Chris.
“I don’t want to be here when he kisses Randall,” I say. “I might drive my heel into Randall’s head.”
“I’ll get the bill,” Kara says. “You guys go wait for me in the car.”
I avoid making eye contact with anyone on the sidewalk as I walk back to the car. I don’t want them seeing the eyeliner running down my face. What’s strange is that this is the closest I’ve felt to Amy Winehouse since I started doing her in drag. This is how she must have felt when her husband was in jail. As heartbroken as I am, I force myself to remember this moment for when I’m performing “Back to Black.”
Mom doesn’t even bat an eye when I come home dressed as woman. I de-drag and then go downstairs to see Miss Bill. He’s wearing a peach pantsuit and a pair of fuzzy slippers.
“You look like Bette Davis unearthed,” he says when he sees me.
“If that’s supposed to mean I look terrible, it’s because I feel terrible,” I say.
Miss Bill invites me in. I fall dramatically on the couch. The fake fireplace is on. An old movie is playing on the TV. Miss Bill pours me a cup of tea. His apartment is cozy, like the velvety insides of a jewelry box.
“I take it your spy mission did not go well,” Miss Bill says.
“He looked me right in the eye and didn’t recognize me.”
“That was the point of going in disguise,” Miss Bill reminds me.
“Shouldn’t he have sensed it was me?” I ask. “I thought we had a deeper connection than that.”
“You’re being dramatic, even for a drag queen,” Miss Bill says. There’s a knock on the door. “I wonder who that could be.”
Miss Bill gets up from his lounge chair and presses his face against the peephole. He opens the door and the light from the hall casts a shadow on the visitor.
“Is Josh here?” Ivan says, entering the apartment. He looks around like he’s stepped into a haunted house. He smiles when he sees me.
“I’ll go make myself a martini,” Miss Bill says.
I sit up on the couch to make space for Ivan. He sits next to me, still distracted by Miss Bill’s apartment.
“How was your date with Randall?” I ask.
“He wanted to know how much I bench press,” Ivan says. “I think it’s time we told Ed we’re dating. I never want to have to go on a date like that again.”
I take Ivan into my arms and hug him until he can’t breathe. Then I pepper his face with kisses. Ivan looks stunned when I finally stop.
“Let me tell Ed,” I say. “It will be better coming from me.”
And I can ask Ed not to tell Ivan I do drag until I’m ready.