“Oh, pocket gay,” she said, running a perfectly manicured fingernail across my cheek, “you are the perfect definition of such. Now. Why are you here and not at home doing Pokémon or whatever the devil it is children do these days? Tic-tac-toe? I don’t know even know anymore.”
“I was doing that yesterday,” Paul said. “The Pokémon thing. I’m going to catch them all.”
“Good for you,” she said. “This place isn’t for you. Either of you.”
“I’m old enough.” I scowled at her.
Charlie snorted. “Ms. Muffman, may I introduce to you Lulu Deerdancer and Buster Cleveland. According to their IDs, both are in their twenties. Lulu here likes to fellate a sucker on his finger while laughing like a hyena. Buster is a self-proclaimed leather cub who sneezed his mustache on my face.”
Ms. Muffman threw her head back and laughed, a low throaty thing that made me want to know all her secrets immediately. “Oh, this is delightful. I am delighted by the two of you. But this is no place for little boys. Shoo, little boys. Come back when you have hair on your balls.”
“Uh,” Paul said. “I have several, so….”
I thought myself in the presence of something reverent. “We just wanted to come here and see what this was all about. We weren’t going to do anything. Honest.”
“You said drinking and blow jobs,” Paul hissed.
“Drinking and blow jobs,” Ms. Muffman said, rolling her eyes to Charlie. “Were we ever that young?”
“Speak for yourself,” he said. “You’re not that much older than they are.”
“Liar,” she said fondly. “But I’ll allow it because I love you so. Kiss, kiss. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a show to prepare for.” She started to turn away.
“A show?” I asked. “What show?” Because I couldn’t let her go without finding out as much as I could.
“Why, the greatest show on earth, of course,” she said. “It’s a performance for the ages.”
“I see your Spice Girls outfit in here,” Charlie said mildly.
“I see what you did there.” She glared lightly at the bouncer. “You’re lucky I think the world of you, otherwise I would have made slippers out of your testicles long ago.”
“But,” Paul said, “you have big feet.”
I gaped at him.
Charlie shrugged. “I have big balls.”
“How nice,” Paul said faintly.
“And since when do you tell a lady she has big feet?” Ms. Muffman scowled.
“Um, never?” Paul guessed.
“Good answer,” she said. “You may live.”
“Oh thank god,” Paul said. “My parents would have killed me if you’d have murdered me.”
“As lovely as this has been,” she said. “And trust me, it has been lovely. Probably more so for you than me. But still. A queen never leaves her subjects wanting. Well. Maybe just a little.” She winked and started to walk away.
But I couldn’t just let her leave. Not without finding out the most important thing in the world. “Who are you?” I demanded.
“Oh, here we go,” Charlie muttered.
She turned and smiled at me. Up close, it felt like watching Shark Week in 3-D with all those teeth. “My dear little chicken,” she said. “I am the tallest bitch in captivity. I am revered. I am feared. I make all the straight boys queer. I am the exalted one who plucks little chickens such as yourself.” She leaned forward and her lips scraped against my ear. Her breath was hot against my skin as she whispered, “I am the drag queen Vaguyna Muffman.”
She pressed a sticky kiss against my cheek, a perfect imprint of her lips I would find hours later, a furious shade of magenta that would be a bitch to wash off.
And then she spun away, the door to the club opening as if on cue, music spilling out and lights flashing. She disappeared inside, leaving behind a trail of glitter and feathers trailing from the boa around her neck.