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“About everything,” I said. “To help me know what safety measures I need to implement to keep everybody safe and not at each other’s throats. And find out any undisclosed relationships or contacts that might help us figure out who is sending these cut-and-paste death threats.”
“In front of everyone?” squeaked a slender, beautiful man with neat dark hair.
“Certainly not,” I said. “That would be highly inappropriate. I will interview each of you individually to see what undisclosed relationships or interpersonal difficulties you have.”
The office I had been assigned to was right down the hall from the queens’ dressing room. It was a big, light room, with big open windows that looked out over downtown, and I could hear the gentle clinks of coffee cups at the coffee shop nearby and hear the happy sounds of people relaxing at the park. There was a huge oaken table and a new computer, and I sat down behind the desk and had one thought.
They must be fucking desperate.
The first person to come in was a broad, brown-haired man with a square, friendly face. His name was James Schwarb, and he said everyone called him Schwarb. In drag, he went by the stage name of Maria von Fapp.
I wrote MARIA VON FAPP in big letters on my pad of paper.
“I am the only straight queen here,” he said.
STRAIGHT, I wrote beside his name.
“At least, I don’tthinkanyone is bi,” he said conscientiously. “And I haven’t had sex with anyone here. I’m not sure how much they even like me, frankly.”
“What made you choose Heavenly Lights?” I asked.
“They were the only ones who would hire me,” Schwarb said. “Rupert is a bit of a squirt but he stuck out his neck for me and insisted they hire me. I’ve always had a soft spot for him since.”
“And why do you think the other queens don’t like you?” I asked, writing down RUPERT- POSSIBLE GOOD QUALITIES? on my paper.
“Beau thinks I’m a shitty queen,” Schwarb said. “And I know I kind of suck, but I want to get better. I’m trying.”
I watched him go, chewing my pen a bit as I wondered how Schwarb could gain some confidence. He seemed like a nice guy, and there was no reason he couldn’t make a better queen.
The next person to come in was a slim dark-haired man who introduced himself as Luis Castillo. He was trim and natty. His drag name was Temptress, and he was the one whose wig had burned last night.
“I would be way too afraid to even mention it,” he said chattily, “but since I saw you smash Sweet’s head into her dressing room table, I guess I can trust you.”
I waited patiently. “I’ve fucked Beau,” Luis said.
“Are you or have you ever been in a relationship with him?” I asked.
“Lord, no,” Luis laughed. “Beau does not do relationships. It’s just occasional fucking.”
“Ah,” I said, and I drew a dark line between Beau and Luis’ names and wrote BONED on it.
“I’ve also had sex with Cody. Just to see what it waslike, you know. Nothing to writehomeabout, of course. It was like fucking a stableboy in an old movie. But he’s so beautiful. He wants to do itmore,” Luis sighed, “But I don’t know if I have thetimeto train him.”
“Do you think Beau burned your wig last night because of your occasional sexual encounters?” I asked.
“Lord, no,” Luis said. “He’s just an asshole like that.”
I wrote ASSHOLE by Beau’s name in firm letters. That one I was sure of.
The next person to come in was a tall, willowy Black man in his 30s with glasses. His name was Deiondre Jones, and his drag name was Snatch Devereaux.
“Like the Golden Girls,” he said.
I wrote GOLDEN GIRLS FAN down by his name.
Deiondre was working on his PhD in computer science and he seemed to be a conscientious, quiet person.
“And do you have any undisclosed relationships you want to. . . now disclose?” I asked.
