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“Screw you, Johnson,” she snapped. “You’re lucky I said yes in the first place. I don’t normally get out of bed for less than fifty thousand dollars. I’m slumming it in this shit of a show.” She made a face as she slapped at the gorgeous caftan I’d slaved over.
I wanted to scream. Instead, I accidently tooted. Never one to let an opportunity pass by, I narrowed my eyes at the mermaid. “Did you eat beans?” I yelled, putting the blame for the silent but deadly tushy cough on her. She deserved it for dissing my creation and being a general pain in the ass.
“I didn’t cut one,” she shouted, horrified. She jabbed a finger at me. “He who smelt it, dealt it.”
“Ewwwwww, Persephone.” Duffy, the busty werewolf model, waved her hand in front of her nose and let out a vicious giggle. “Everyone! Persephone cut the cheese.”
“I did not,” she screamed.
“Did too,” I replied.
“I. Did. Not,” she screeched as she ripped the caftan off her body and marched out the side exit buck naked.
“One problem solved, so many more to go,” I mumbled, picking up Persephone’s caftan and inspecting it for damage. Thankfully, it was fine. Tragically, I was down a model.
I glanced around, ready to lose my shit, until my eyes landed on my other best bud who had shown up to do me a solid on the biggest day of my career.
“Zorro,” I called out. “Code red!”
My fainting-goat-shifter buddy didn’t miss a beat. Zorro was at my side immediately. His outfit was loud. He was dressed from head to toe in purple leather. It was just on the edge of wrong, but Zorro made it work. “Guuurlfriend,” he said, breathing hard. “Shoot it to me straight. What’s the prob?”
“Persephone quit,” I explained. “I’m down a model.”
“Mermaids are nasty pieces of work even without the cannibalistic tendencies,” he muttered, glancing around wildly. “Can Helen take her place?”
“She’s drunk and five feet tall,” I said. “Not the best sitch.”
Zorro nodded. “I feel you, Johnson. Love Helen, but the bloodworks make her an iffy choice. Drunk and bloody is a disaster.”
“Right,” I agreed. “How do you feel about walking the runway?”
Zorro’s eyes grew huge and he screamed. I wasn’t sure if it was an I’m so excited! scream or an Are you out of your fucking mind? scream. There were both male and female models in the lineup. Caftans were a unisex miracle. My long-time compadre would fit right in.
He was a beautiful man—sandy blond hair, bright blue eyes and the build of a superhero. Normally, I’d be jealous or intimidated by such a handsome guy, but Zorro was the kindest person I knew—loved the man like a brother.
“Ohhh Johnson,” he said, wringing his hands. “Not sure that’s a great plan, my friend.”
Zorro tended to pass out in a crisis due to being a fainting goat shifter. However, the days of his kind being sacrificed to protect other, more valued species were long over.
“You’d be perfect,” I said. Zorro had plenty of experience in front of an audience. I’d seen him perform with the Assjacket Community Players on several occasions. He was brilliant. “It would be a dream come true to watch you strut your stuff in one of my creations.”
He preened at the compliment, and I could tell he was tempted. “I just don’t know,” he fretted. “I’m not a runway model kind of gay or a club kind of gay. I’m more of a couch gay. I enjoy referring to myself as a homosectional.”
“Nope, not buying what you’re selling,” Dwayne said, joining the conversation and giving Zorro a quick hug. “You killed it in the musical version of The Chainsaw Massacre. And I was left sobbing with tears of joy after your Tony-worthy performance in the musical version of Misery. Your axe work was to-die-for.”
Zorro was delighted with the compliments. “I do feel that my homage to Kathy Bates was one of my better starring turns.”
“Kathy would have been proud,” Dwayne assured him.
“Thank you,” Zorro said with a giggle. “I do so love her. Maybe, just maybe, I could walk the runway.”
“If you do, I’ll give you my red sequined Louboutin pumps,” I bargained. I was not too proud to beg or bribe.
Both Zorro and Dwayne gasped in shock. It was beyond clear I meant business. No gay man would give up his Louboutin pumps unless it was a last resort. The shoes were my most coveted possession—they’d cost me a fortune, but I was willing to give them up. That was how much this runway show meant to me.
Zorro shook his head and kissed my cheek. “Guuurlfriend, I would never take another man’s Louboutin pumps. It’s sacrilegious. I’m just worried I’ll pass out with all the flashing cameras and the reality stars in the front row staring at me.”
Helen staggered over, having overheard the conversation. She was grinning like a fool and the front of her caftan was covered in strawberry wine cooler. The tiny vamp was a hot mess, but I loved her anyway.
