Since the Simon Theater’s reopening, Audrey’s following had grown steadily. She made enough in tips that she was only half a month behind on her rent. As she had walked to work earlier that day, it had struck her that in a few weeks she would likely graduate from dirt-poor to flat broke. That realization brought her out of the funk she had been in since Odette had called with the news that Audrey would soon become an orphan. Audrey’s thoughts had gone back to Plainview, but the memories that came to mind onstage that evening were mostly happy.
She leaned into her microphone and said, “After my mother, the first person I told about how I liked to dress in women’s clothes was my friend Odette. It took me a while to work up the nerve to say it. We were good friends by then and I knew she had a gay son, but people can surprise you when it comes to what they’re a hundred percent cool with and what makes them freak out.”
To the amusement of her audience, she began to play the disco classic “Le Freak.”
“We were in Odette’s kitchen when I told her, and I was shaking so bad I could barely get my words out. She led me to the mantel over the fireplace in her family room and showed me a framed picture of a muscular man with a shaved head holding a trophy. Odette said, ‘That’s my aunt Marjorie after she won the arm-wrestling contest at the county fair thirty-five years ago. If you think being somewhere between a boy and a girl is gonna shock me, you’re mistaken.’
“I never met Odette’s aunt, so the one person in Plainview who I knew was like me was my grandparents’ bloodhound.”
She played two phrases of “Hound Dog” while her audience laughed. A few of the more inebriated patrons howled.
“People never believe me when I tell them that, but it’s the truth. That bloodhound was my inspiration. I was a sissified child, but I didn’t get the idea to dress in drag until that dog did it.
“Daddy decided Grandma and Grandpa needed company and protection after the pointer they had died from old age. He bought a bloodhound for them, and my grandparents named him Pal.
“Pal was a natural guard dog, but he couldn’t have been worse company. He wasn’t even a year old when Daddy bought him and he was already mean as hell. Even Grandma and Grandpa took care not to aggravate him for fear they’d lose some fingers.
“Pal was a foul-tempered son of a bitch. But once he was finished barking and snarling at everyone and everything in his path, he was the best hunting animal in the state. Grandpa and Daddy went hunting every weekend, and they always took Pal.”
She plinked out “A-Hunting We Will Go.”
“Pal got meaner after Grandma died. It got so bad that Grandpa had to slide Pal’s food dish across the floor to him and jump back so he wouldn’t have to go near Pal’s teeth.
“Then Grandpa had a brainstorm. He remembered how Grandma’s mood always improved when she put on an accessory that made her feel pretty. So he went up to Grandma’s closet and found her best hat, a red satin pillbox that I would kill to have now. He put that hat on Pal’s head, and it was like night and day. The snarling stopped, and Pal just wanted to snuggle and have his tummy rubbed.
“At first, Grandpa figured it was hats, in general, that Pal liked. He put one of his baseball caps on Pal, but the dog bared his teeth and growled at Grandpa till he brought back the pillbox. From that day forward, Grandpa dressed up that nellie dog in the nicest hats in Grandma’s closet. After a while, he added scarves and ribbons for extra splashes of color. Grandpa turned out to have quite an eye for fashion.”
The audience chuckled. Audrey played “Who Let the Dogs Out?”
“The trouble started when hunting season rolled around again. Daddy and I went to Grandpa’s house early one Saturday morning, like usual. Daddy just about lost his mind when he saw that formerly vicious dog curled up on the couch next to Grandpa with lavender painted nails and a pink Little Mermaid tiara that Grandpa’d bought for Pal’s birthday sitting on top of his head.
“Grandpa warned him not to, but Daddy snatched the tiara off the dog’s head. Next thing we knew, Daddy was on the floor and his hand was inside Pal’s mouth. Daddy punched the dog in the head once or twice. But each time Daddy hit him, Pal bit down a little harder.
“Daddy started screaming for me to go to the truck and get his shotgun, but Grandpa told me not to move. He said to Daddy, ‘Son, he’ll give you your hand back once you let go of his tiara and tell him you’re sorry.’
“Daddy dropped the costume jewelry onto Pal’s head and tried to pull his hand away, but the dog still wouldn’t let go. Grandpa said, ‘Apologize, Wayne.’
“Sure enough, as soon as Daddy said he was sorry, the dog let him go and settled in on the couch like nothing had happened.
“Daddy’s hand was scratched up some, but not actually bleeding. He went to the bathroom to put some antiseptic on it. By the time he came back to the living room, looking like he still wanted to go after Pal with his shotgun, Grandpa had adjusted that pink tiara the way Pal liked it and the two of them were as happy as could be.
“Great hunting dog or not, Daddy wasn’t about to be seen with a bloodhound in drag. I’ve told you about my father before, so you know that he wasn’t much for letting folks be who they wanted to be if it wasn’t who Daddy wanted them to be. Grandpa didn’t give a damn what my father thought, though. He took Pal hunting on his own, and Pal kept on being the sweetest dog in the world, as long as he had his ensemble the way he liked it.
“I was about ten when Pal started doing drag, and it made perfect sense to me. I couldn’t imagine anything that could make me feel happier than polishing my nails and throwing on a cute hat before heading off to school. So that’s what I did. The school and Daddy put a quick stop to my early experiments, though. I had to start doing my dressing up in secret. But you know what? Pal was right. Every day is a little better if you feel prettier by lunchtime than you felt at breakfast.”
Audrey had just begun to sing “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?” when someone shouted out from a table in the rear, “What happened to Pal?”
Because it was Audrey’s nature to tell the truth, she almost told the story of how Terry had shared his bedroom with Pal for the six months between his grandfather’s and his mother’s deaths. She nearly related how Pal, like Terry, hadn’t lasted long under the Robinson roof without the protection of Terry’s mother. Terry had come home one afternoon exactly one week after his mother’s funeral and found that Pal was gone. The look on his father’s face told Terry that he’d better not ask for an explanation.
That story was too heavy for tonight, though. Audrey wanted to begin her set with everyone smiling. She said, “Pal was my dress-up partner until he was called home to doggy heaven.” She reached up and tapped the black sequined beret that sat atop her head at a coquettish tilt. She said, “This was one of his.”
In honor of Pal, Audrey sang, “I Feel Pretty.”