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Ryan laughed, the sound landing pleasantly somewhere near my heart. “I thought I’d need a wig. I stopped by a drug store and grabbed the nicest-looking one, and I threw in some makeup too.”
“This was the nicest-looking one?” I lifted the thing with a finger, holding it far away from me. “Ryan, if this was the nicest wig they had, then the entire store needs an exorcism. And so will I if I hold this for much longer.” I let the wig fall back in the bag, where I hoped it couldn’t crawl out and strangle us. The makeup looked equally traumatic, like they had been made from the crayons found next to the desiccated corpse of a prehistoric caveman. “Here, let me send you money to cover whatever that travesty is.”
Ryan put his hands up, refusing. “No way. I think I can return it anyway.”
“How? Dumping it into the Hell Mouth on Yancy Avenue, behind the Lawsons’ farm?”
Ryan laughed before growing serious. “Wait, is that real? I’ve heard some stories about the Lawsons.”
“Could be real,” I said, “I’ve seen weirder stuff happen in Blue Creek.” Like a crystal-blue-gazed man strutting into my home and immediately feeling an invisible cord start tying us together. “Real weird stuff.”
“Like what?” Ryan asked with his arms crossed, curiosity shining inside those puppy soft eyes.
“Like a private detective coming over so I can beat and bake his face.”
“Beat—bake—wait, I just asked to become a drag queen, not join a cooking-focused Fight Club.”
My turn to laugh. It was a genuine one. I truly almost forgot how to make the sound, how the stretch of a real smile on my lips felt. “Beat your face means adding makeup on it. Baking is something we do to ‘cook’ the foundation and concealer with powder so that it dries. Come on, let me take you to my drag room.” I put a hand on the plastic bags. “Leave these here for the FBI to pick up.”
Ryan nodded his head and almost paralyzed me with his damn smile. I shook it off, rolled my neck, started walking.
Thank god my legs still work.
“Speaking of FBI,” I said, walking around the couch the long way, only so that I could brush against Ryan as I squeezed past him and the entertainment console.
Not a date.
“Any update on my case?”
Not a date.
Ryan gave an affirmative grunt that did something to the base of my spine. “I went to the Queen’s Throne today and was able to get a good look at everything. I found the lipstick the stalker used to write your message. I think they either left it there because they were in a rush, or they wanted to send a message. Either way, sloppy move. I might be able to track down who bought it.”
That shot a spark of hope straight into my system. I tamped it down almost immediately, not wanting to get my hopes up for nothing. But… still, it was an awfully good feeling while it lasted. “Do you have it with you? Maybe I can help somehow.”
“I stopped at the office and left it there. I’ll send a picture to you. It was called Bold Blood, but I can’t remember the brand.”
We stopped in front of the shut door to my drag room. I was lucky to have one, coming from the three-bedroom and four-roommate situation I had just left. This room had been considered a den by the landlord so they couldn’t charge me extra rent for it, and I took that as a sign from the universe to make it the bougiest fucking drag room I could ever imagine having.
“I can’t think of that name, but wow, pretty fucking original of them, huh?” I said.
Ryan gave another chuckle. He leaned against the wall, looking casual as all hell. Like he wasn’t in some stranger’s house about to get told to sit down, shut up, and take it.
Take the makeup brushes, that was.
“All right,” I said, one hand on the handle and the other on my hip. Why the hell was my heart beating so fast? “This is a pretty big honor, not going to lie. I’ve only shown two of my friends this room, and that’s it. I like keeping the energy positive in there, so.” I motioned him up and down. “You know, keep it positive.”
“It’s my only setting,” he said, pearly teeth glowing even in the dim lighting of my narrow hall.
“I can tell.” It was meant to be a joke but sounded a little too bitey. I course corrected. “And that’s amazing. I need to start using that setting more often.”
“It comes in handy,” he said, stepping a little closer to me. The A/C kicked up and carried his cologne directly into my face, making me wonder if it were possible to become addicted to pine and rose scents. Like how some people were addicted to smelling gasoline, except I wanted to bottle up this man’s essence an—
