CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

Chelsea, Manhattan

 

Honey.

Girlfriend.

Bitch.

Don’t ever let anyone tell you tuckin’ ain’t no art form. I got a motherfuckin’ terminal PhD in that shit.

Dios mio. Alls I can think about after I’m clockin’ out is I’m dyin’ to unleash the girdled beast so I can go gets me a cheeseburger and onion rings. Some carne asada fries or somethin’. You ever have a taped up pito ticklin’ your culo and some huevos peludos chafin’ your tuppy?

No? Well, cállate your face, güero. It ain’t fun, know what I’m sayin’?

You know, I may be Ms. Major League New York City Jessica now, but I was papas chiquitas before I decided to move out here to the Big Adam’s Apple. I know it seems like I been the Big Time Bitch here siempre, but it wasn’t even all that long ago when I started takin’ over this town. Just a few months, really, but it feels like una otra vida. Used to live in this caca little city called Sweetville. Never heard of it? Shit, girl, neither had I, and I was born there.

You wanna, like, build some character, you get your start in that dead-ass town. Wasn’t all that bad, though. Not totally. Enough tasty man meat to go around, but you know I ain’t picky. Pretty much ran the show at this low budget joint for a couple years, too. MOXY was the name. Such a hole in the wall, and I’m not talkin’ ‘bout the glorious kind, you know what I mean? I was like King Queen of the castle there, not that I deserve a cookie for that or anything. Unless you got a cookie.

Oye, hold on a second.

Hey! Pendejo by the door! Yeah, you lookin’ like muthafuckin’ Julius Caesar. I see you checkin’ out my sexy ass. Come back later when I’m bored. We’ll see if you can handle what Ms. Jessica’s got for you.

Shit, honey, where was I? Los borrachos always want a piece of this pussy pie. I may be servin’ fish now, girl, but MOXY was where I caught my first trout. You know what I’m sayin’?

Yo, this MOXY was some pinche poky place and all, but it was like my second home, too. The ceiling looked like someone stood upside down on their cabeza and peed all over it like they thought it was a respectable work of art. I guess it kinda was. There was only one bathroom. I mean, shit, why bother with two when it’s just gonna cause more confusion with all us bitches, right? So fuchi in there, though. Too many pedos just floatin’ around like they tryin’ to get back in the ass they came from. Had to kick out way too many twinks trying to score some cream filling. I swear those little jotos got no manners. Don’t tip worth a shit neither. Some of the new girls live off the tips. Why even show up if you’re not gonna help support las chicas, right? Coupla oogly-ass bitches that worked in there, too, you know? I mean, it ain’t that hard to shave every now and then. Lady Bic. Ever heard of it? Tryin’ to be professional around all these amateurs was like tryin’ to find a straight guy in a production of Les Mis. Bitches tryin’ to read me like they got even a sliver of originality. Please. Go back to the library, pinche mongólicas. The book you borrowed is overdue.

No, I ain’t bein’ catty or throwin’ shade like some rude bitch. I just take my realness serious. You’d understand if you were man enough to put on a dress some time. Yes, I’m serious. Do I look like I’m jokin’ with you, girl?

Oh, so this one night I was finishin’ up my show and all of that. Ended with “The Pussycat Song.” That one’s always a hit with the new jacks. No, honey, I didn’t actually sing it. You know I gots a voice like a billy goat in heat, and that’s on a good night. There was only like a dozen or so freakos in the crowd, but I was like Gloria Estefan sin Miami Sound Machine, and they were like my Madison Square Garden. Bitch, I looked fierce that night. Dress so tight I had to use Crisco to get my fat ass into it. Con muy slutty lipstick. My drag mama Aphrodite Adonis said to me once, “Girl, you got more spunk than Anthony Quinn, but Zorba the Greek never wore sequins, tacky eyelashes, and size twelve, six-inch glittered fuck me pumps.”

Perfecto. High-five me on that one, girl. Not too hard. I don’t wanna break a nail.

Anyways, hubo mucha lluvia when I left that night. I didn’t have no umbrella with me, so I was screamin’ through the parking lot like a hurt-ass bitch ‘cause I didn’t want to ruin my brand new wig and all. So embarrassin’. After I got in my Yugo I saw some poor tiny chica hidin’ under the awning in the back, and it just broke my heart. See, I’m not the Grinch you think I am. I’m like sentimental and shit, you know? I rolled my window down and saw some bright little doe eyes lookin’ back at me. Preciosa.

I say, “Honey, you need a ride somewhere?” She barely had time for a nod before she was ridin’ shotgun. Girl shoulda been in the Olympics. Her teeth were chatterin’ from the cold like a busted vibrator. I asked her name.

She say, “Ariel.” Real quiet, like she was afraid she might hurt my ears if she talked like a normal bitch. Then she say, “No. It’s Trixie.” So I introduce her to myself, the soon-to-be-world-famous Ms. Jessica Chartreuse, naturalmente.

We start drivin’ and I ask her, “Where you goin’, sweetie?” She just look back at me like she don’t know the answer to two plus two. No, it ain’t five. Take that damn Corona Light outta your ass. You need some coffee, bitch? Pay attention. You might learn somethin’.

I ask this pretty little thing, “You need somewhere to stay tonight?”

She say, “Maybe.” I can tell she’s hurtin’ inside. At this point I feel, like, totally responsible for this poor girl, you know? I also wondered if someone told her she’d grow a cock on her chin if she talked too much.

I pretty much knew what was goin’ on already. Seen her type in Sweetville more times than I wish I had, but I asked her anyways.

“You been workin’ out there tonight?” She nodded back at me, and I say, “Don’t you worry none, flaca. No hay calles para ti esta noche. Ms. Jessica’s gonna cook you up some of her special carnitas tonight.” She finally smiled, and she was about the prettiest, soaking wet little puta I ever seen.

I never thought I’d ever be a mama or a papa or, well, whatever. But I swear it just clicked with this girl Trixie and me. Like, what do you call that shit? Serpent dippity doo da? Ah, you know what I mean. Don’t make me try so hard. Why do I gotta do all the talkin’? Trixie and me, we both needed each other and didn’t know it ‘til we knew it. So I just gave her leg a little pat and told her everything would be okay. Yeah, maybe I was a little mentirosa, but fuck it. At least I was tryin’. I didn’t know what else to do.

So we get back to mi casa and, of course, it’s a fuckin’ tornado scene. Wasn’t really expectin’ company, and I sure don’t clean house for shits and giggles. My wig collection was all out of order and shit. You know, I got those things organized by color and style when I gots the time. But, see, I turned on the lights so I could take out my falsies and I really got to see this girl Trixie close up and personal.

Full. On. Fish.

Pescadora.

Like, we talkin’ Chicken of the Sea and shit. Girl had legit long hair, but it wasn’t no wig, and she had some nice boobies. I mean, they weren’t no grandes melones or nothing, but hell, it’s wasn’t no duct tape cleavage neither. The girl had some damn squeezable chi-chis. Half a handful at least. She coulda been a model. Well, at least for like a Sears catalog or somethin’.

My mouth went wide open and I say, “Hijo de puta, Trixie. No eres como yo. Eres el 'real deal.’ Soy sólo una ilusión femenina.”

Her gringa ass say, “I’m sorry. I really don’t understand very much Spanish.” Ay güey. She say she dropped out of high school and didn’t need to know any for the GED or some shit. So I broke it down for her.

“Honey, we’re alike in a lotta ways, but when the lights go out I’m just a big gay boy in a ball gown and fancy war paint. You an almost-girl.”

She kinda smiled all weird and sad and say, “I wish it wasn’t ‘almost’ anymore.” I just nodded back and grabbed her hand. I mean, I couldn’t really relate, but I sure understood. I think I was havin’ my man-strual cycle or somethin’ cause I gave her a hug and I got all teared up, smeared my makeup in a tissue and shit. Sometimes I think people are slippin’ me some estrogen in my mojitos. Or, in my case, it’s more like a mojoto. Yeah, girl. Slap me some skin for that one.

So I obviously had a lot of pull at MOXY. I asked the owner Nico about letting Trixie wait tables part-time there. Nico was a real butch queen. That culero got his mustache waxed every week, twice a week if there was a national holiday. He say, “Okay. I’ll give her three days a week to start, but she can’t fuck it up or it’s your ass.” My ass? I mean, what was that? One of those In You Intos? It was, wasn’t it?

My little Trixie did real fine real quick. Girl, she wanted off the streets. Like bad. Bussin’ tables like she could win a prize from it. I made sure she played up her drag look real good and over the top so she didn’t look too legit, you know? Some of these queens can smell the fish fresh outta the market. People might start thinkin’ we hired a bona fide girl. I woulda believed it.

Well, long story short, she eventually got more hours and worked there until the place went out of business a few months later. I was already on my way out ‘cause I knew I was movin’ out here to make a name for myself.

I even invited her to come with, but she wouldn’t budge. Couldn’t bring herself to leave that town. No idea why. Scared of change, I guess. I always say she never managed to win any World’s Finest Decision Maker awards. Hell, well neither have I, but I own that shit and work it.

Yeah, we still keep in touch a little bit. I give her a call when I’m feelin’ sorta homesick. The way things are goin’ back in Sweetville these days, I get cured real quick after I talk to her. My girl Trixie, she actually called me up a few weeks ago, soundin’ all happy. She datin’ some boy now, but he don’t know ‘bout her, well, you know. Ding dong the wicked witch gives head.

I say, “Girl, es peligroso… You need to tell him. Either he love you for you or he don’t. Just ‘cause you share a common birth, that ain’t gonna change nothin’. He right for you or he not. Simple as that.”

She say, “I can’t, Jesi.” She started calling me Jesi after we became tight. Cute, huh? Makes me get all misty and shit. Like I’m her big sister or somethin’. Guess I was the closest thing she had to family. “I can’t, Jesi,” she say. “I don’t want to lose him.”

Alls I can do is pray for her at night. Such a sweet little thing, deserves more than she’ll ever get. Now I tuck myself into bed some nights and think.

She is beautiful. Love her, straight boy.

Or don’t.