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That’s how I felt sitting across from Elijah. It shocked me. Almost as much as his next statement shocked me.
“I’m quitting drag. Done. I’m never going near a breastplate or wig again. No matter how sickening I’d look.”
“What? Seriously? You were the best one last night, and everyone was great, but you… just mind-blowingly good.”
“Thanks,” Elijah said with a hard-to-earn smile before flipping it back into the pout that seemed to be a permanent fixture. “I’m still done with it, though.”
“It looked like you were having the time of your life last night.”
“And I was. Drag is the only… it kept me going for a while. Things were really hard for me, especially around the time I was sixteen. I don’t want to go all into it right now, but the SparkNotes version is this. Little Elijah, recently out of the closet but homeless, finds himself under the sequined wing of drag queen until he’s officially adopted by his best friend’s mom a year later.”
I stopped myself from wearing the surprise on my face, instead shifting into as neutral an expression as I could muster. “Then there’s no way you’re quitting drag.” I wanted to pull back some more of Elijah’s layers, learn more about his history and the hurdles he’d had to jump, but I could see in his eyes that now wasn’t the time. That piece of himself he had just offered up seemed to have taken quite a bit from him. His pout deepened into a frown as he looked out the window. A pair of silver necklaces glinted on his chest, one of them made of thick chain links and the other a much simpler piece.
He fiddled with the thicker one, eyes coming back to mine. “It could stop the stalker,” Elijah offered half-heartedly.
“I’m going to stop the stalker.”
He gave me a smirk and an arched brow. “Sounds pretty cocky.”
“Confidence is different than cockiness,” I said, tilting my head, smiling. “And I’m proud to say I’ve got a bit of both. I take my job seriously, and I’ve found myself with a good success rate because of that. You’re in good hands.”
Elijah’s emerald-green gaze flickered down at my actual hands before coming back up to mine, his smirk growing. “Fine. But I’m still done with drag.”
Damn. He was one hard nut to crack. Anyone else and I likely would have let the conversation die there. His mind sounded made up, and I had no position in his life to try and change it… except I wanted to. Of course, I saw why he wanted to quit. Those messages weren’t anything to play with, and they were equal parts terrifying and demoralizing, but they weren’t enough to kill something that appeared to bring Elijah so much joy.
He didn’t need to get back onstage, not at least until I got to the bottom of his case, but that didn’t mean he had to quit drag altogether.
“Don’t perform, but don’t quit either.”
Elijah cocked his head. “So I’m just going to put on drag shows for me and my teddy bears? I don’t know about that.”
An idea covered in glitter and sequins struck me just then. “Put me in drag, then. Give me lessons. I’ll pay you, every two weeks. You can turn me into a top-tier drag queen, and we can keep you off the stage for a little.”
Elijah scoffed at that. It was obvious he considered the idea, but his head shake burst any bubble of hope I might have formed. “No, I’m not planning on being a drag mom, sorry. I don’t have the patience or teaching skills to pull that off. Also, your bone structure is scarily boy-like. A feminine illusion on your face would have to be performed by an ordained saint, I’m assuming.”
That got a surprised belly laugh out of me. “I think you’ve got the skills.”
“Mama, I’m going to need more than skills to hide that five-o’clock shadow and diamond-cut jawline.”
More laughter, from both of us, mixing together in a perfect melody. I didn’t press on his comment about my jawline, although I did file it away, my brain struggling to switch from flirt mode back into work mode. Elijah, as cute and funny and attractive and smart and quick and hot and—fuck. As much as he was all those things, he was here for an issue that I needed to solve, and I couldn’t let anything get in the way of that.
But damn, I wanted to hang out with him more. Even if he wasn’t putting foundation on my face or lipstick on my lips. I couldn’t explain the pull if I wanted to, but I recognized that it was there, and so I pressed a little harder.
“It’ll help me go undercover,” I offered, batting my lashes like a little puppy, taking one last shot.
