Boy Queen

by George Lester

  ‘Hey.’

  Priya turns back to me, trying to keep a smile from bursting across her face.

  ‘Did you enjoy the show?’ Greg asks.

  ‘Yeah, it was amazing,’ he says, turning to me and smiling. ‘I have no idea why you were nervous.’

  ‘He’s ridiculous, isn’t he?’ Natalie says, rolling her eyes. ‘Zero confidence, bundle of nerves, comes out and serves a lip sync with a reveal. I can’t even.’

  ‘I know, right?’ Seth says. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Actually it’s ConDRAGulations,’ Greg says, with a sly smile. ‘I’ve been doing my research.’

  I laugh. ‘I’m proud of you.’

  ‘Everybody in here loves you,’ Seth says.

  I snort. ‘Please, I did one number.’

  ‘And it was incredible,’ Natalie says. ‘Accept it. People think you’re good and you’re allowed to be happy about it.’

  And I am happy about it. There are people all around the bar that are looking at us, well, looking at me, and it’s sort of wonderful. It tells me that I did a good job tonight.

  ‘So,’ Natalie says. ‘Seth. What are your intentions with my Robin?’

  ‘Oh my God,’ I groan.

  ‘It sounds like she’s joking, but she isn’t,’ Greg says. ‘So, seriously, intentions. We’re very protective of him.’

  ‘I know.’

  Natalie hits him in the arm. ‘Hey, I heard you broke Connor’s nose. Nice. You beat me to it.’

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for a while too,’ Greg says.

  ‘Not my finest moment.’ Seth looks a little sheepish. ‘But he was being an ass and . . .’ He looks at me and he smiles, his eyes all wide and loved-up.

  ‘He was hurting your boy?’ Natalie teases. ‘Knight in shining leather jacket.’

  ‘Are we done with the third degree?’ I ask. ‘I don’t want to talk about Connor any more. It’s over. New beginnings.’

  ‘New beginnings,’ Natalie says. ‘I like that.’

  Natalie heads to the bar, Greg and Priya following close behind, their fingers entwined, leaving me alone with Seth.

  ‘So, you really liked it?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, I did,’ he says. ‘You were amazing.’

  ‘Seeing you out there helped,’ I say. ‘Like, a friendly face, it made the whole thing a lot easier.’

  ‘Well, I’ll make sure I come every time,’ he says.

  ‘Do we need to talk about what happened earlier?’ I ask.

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Because I’ve been wanting to do that for a really long time,’ I say. ‘And if you ever wanted to do it again, well, you know where to find me.’

  ‘Does now work?’ He smirks.

  ‘Now works fine.’

  He smiles and takes a step towards me, kissing me softly on the lips. He has to get up on his tiptoes to do it but manages.

  ‘OK, lovebirds, let’s break it up!’ Kaye appears at my side, her face a little severe. ‘You can catch up with your friends later – now I need you to meet your adoring public.’

  ‘Mama wants to show off her new little showgirl,’ Pristine says. ‘It’s very Toddlers In Tiaras. You should have seen her while you were on, Mae – she was absolutely beaming.’

  ‘How dare you!’ Kaye snaps. ‘Stop telling my girl how proud I am. I don’t want her getting a big head. Say goodbye to this handsome little dish.’

  ‘Bye, Seth.’

  ‘Tell him you’ll see him after.’

  ‘Will you stick around?’ I ask.

  ‘Sure,’ Seth says, turning to Kaye. ‘She’s all yours.’

  ‘Thank you, my darling, what a nice little suitor he is,’ Kaye says, leading me off into the crowd. ‘Now that you’re my daughter, do I need to have the talk with him?’ she asks.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘I think he’s one of the good ones.’

  Kaye sighs. ‘Then hold on to him tightly, darling. Lock it in now before he has a chance to run away. Ooh, here are some people you should meet . . .’

  THIRTY

  ‘Carrie won’t shut up about you, darling,’ Kaye says as we take off our make-up in the dressing room. I’ve lost track of what time it is. I must have been in it for a good three hours and my body aches. ‘I think she may hire you again.’

  ‘Well, that would be great considering I have nothing to do next year,’ I say.

  Kaye stops taking off her make-up and looks over at me. ‘Did you enjoy tonight?’ she asks.

  And I know I’ve been a little bit flippant and said the wrong thing. I am trying to figure out how I can put into words what it felt like to be up there tonight. There is no feeling like performing. There is a rush that you can’t really get any other way, a level of risk that you miss the second it’s over. But as Mae Bee there is something else. Something that gives it a little bit more sparkle, a little bit more oomph, a feeling of power. I’ve never felt so powerful or fully in control of myself before, but, in that moment, there it was. The more applause I got, the more powerful I felt, like some kind of oversized Tinkerbell in three pairs of tights and a six-inch heel.

  ‘More than I can really say,’ I reply. ‘It was amazing and the second it was over I wanted to do it again, but then I realized I don’t have any other numbers so I couldn’t even ask.’ Kaye smiles. ‘So, if Carrie were to offer me another slot you’ll find me in a dance studio somewhere working my absolute tits off to have the numbers ready for her. New stuff, spoken-word stuff like what you do. Maybe even singing.’

  ‘Maybe even singing, eh?’ Kaye says. ‘Well, looks like someone has found their spark again.’

  I turn back to the mirror and continue taking off my face, trying to hide the smile that is tugging at the corners of my mouth ‘Something like that, yeah. Thank you, Kaye.’

  ‘For what dear?’ she says.

  ‘For the opportunity, for the chance to—’

  ‘Don’t go into a big speech now, my darling,’ she says. ‘It’s far too late and Mama’s had too much to drink for any of that sentimental shit.’ She pauses. ‘But you’re more than welcome. It’s a pleasure to have you as part of the family.’

  With that glow still vibrating in my chest, I finish getting ready, saying my goodbyes to Kaye and heading downstairs to the bar. It’s a heck of a lot emptier now and, unlike when I’d walked in before and all eyes had turned to me, now I’m just another gay boy in the bar. I happen to be freshly moisturized and my feet hurt like hell, but no one knows that it was me up there. That is, no one except the boy smiling at me from a table in the far corner.

  I hurry over to Seth and plant myself next to him. He kisses me straight away, soft, fleeting, enough to startle me. I look around and see that no one is looking at us. I didn’t need to do that, least of all here. I’ve spent so long having to check myself for the sake of Connor that I didn’t even know what it was like to just kiss someone.

  ‘That was an experience,’ he says.

  ‘What? The kiss?’ I say.

  ‘No, the drag, the performance, all of it,’ he says. ‘It was nice to see you up there doing your thing.’

  I grin. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Seth reaches over and takes hold of my hand and my heart thrills a little at his touch. Holding hands is seriously underrated. I could honestly do this forever. ‘And it didn’t end in tears this time.’

  ‘What a novelty!’ I reply. ‘Thanks for waiting around. I thought you might have gone home or something?’

  ‘Oh no, I had to wait to get my time with Dragecellence’s new star,’ he says. ‘How is Mae Bee?’

  ‘Mae Bee is tired,’ I say. ‘But Robin Cooper is wide awake.’

  A bell rings behind the bar. ‘Five minutes!’ the bartender calls.

  ‘Do you want to go somewhere else?’ I ask.

  ‘Sure,’ Seth says, pulling on his jacket and standing up. ‘Where did you have in mind?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Just anywhere.’

  I say my goodbyes
to Carrie, Pristine, The Duchess and Kaye, all sitting at the bar out of drag, enjoying a drink as the evening winds down, and Seth and I leave Entity. We walk down the empty high street, drunk people swaying and singing, sober people swerving and keeping their heads down to avoid them at all costs. And we just talk.

  We jump in his car and he drives until we find ourselves outside the school, which looks weird in the dark, strangely quiet and less significant than it seems in the light of day. And maybe it’s his presence, or maybe it’s the performance, but there is an odd sort of calm that washes over me.

  It’s something I’ve not felt for the longest time. Everything has felt so heightened and stressful, arguing with Mum or steering clear of Connor, or sneaking out to Entity so I can practise with Kaye. But now it’s faded away and all that’s left is me and Seth.

  ‘What now?’ he asks.

  ‘I need to get home,’ I say. ‘There’s always the chance my mum will be up waiting for me to get in to make sure I’m not dead. If she’s still up, I’m going to feel so guilty.’

  ‘Well, I’d best get you home, then.’

  When we arrive, he gets out of the car and we stand on the street corner, lit by the white glow of a streetlamp. His face looks beautiful in this light, in every light, but I can see the tiredness in his eyes. He needs to get home too. But we’re still standing here holding hands like the world will end if we let go.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Thank you, Seth,’ I say again. ‘I don’t think at any point through all of this I’ve stopped and said thank you for everything that you did for me. Driving me to Entity, sneaking around, picking me up when I was mid-breakdown—’

  ‘That seems to be my speciality.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome to it, it happens often enough,’ I say. ‘But you’ve done far too much for me.’

  He shrugs. ‘It was an excuse to spend time with you, to get to know you better. I hope you don’t mind that I kissed you earlier.’

  ‘Mind?’ I repeat. ‘Seth, I’ve been wanting to do that from the second I laid eyes on you.’

  ‘Slut.’

  ‘Shut up!’ I nudge him with my shoulder – it’s an excuse to make contact with him. It’s a cheap shot I know, but it sends a little rush through me. ‘I wanted to kiss you because you were pretty. Now I want to kiss you because you’re one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.’

  ‘Stop it.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I say. ‘You’re really nice, Seth. You’ve got this bad-boy exterior but inside you’re actually soft.’

  ‘And it makes you want to kiss me?’ he says.

  I nod.

  ‘All right, then.’

  He leans in and I follow suit, kissing him softly on the lips under the streetlight. And it’s different to every kiss I ever had with Connor. It’s not urgent or fevered or being worried about getting caught: it’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s safety. He lets go of my hand and wraps his arms round my waist, pulling me closer to him.

  ‘Goodnight, Robin,’ he says.

  ‘Goodnight. Let me know when you get home safe,’ I say, kissing him lightly again. ‘And thank you again.’

  ‘Stop thanking me.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I say. ‘I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.’

  ‘Another kiss will do.’

  I give him one last kiss and he smiles.

  ‘There, we’re even.’

  ‘Somewhere, Natalie knows this is happening and is making vomiting noises,’ I say. He laughs and it’s the most wonderful sound in the world. ‘Goodnight, Seth.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  We part ways and I move through the darkness of my house and to my bedroom. As I crawl into bed, there is the briefest moment where I’m not sure I’ll actually fall asleep, my brain buzzing, my lips still tingling from kissing Seth, but then the tiredness hits me like a wave, pulling me under.

  When I wake up the following morning, my feet burn like they haven’t for a long time. I guess without going to dance classes all the time I’d forgotten what it was like to have your feet absolutely wrecked by a performance. Heels are hellish. I felt powerful as anything when I was wearing them, but I am paying the price now.

  I check my phone and see that I have messages from Natalie and from Seth, a couple from the girls at Dragcellence sending videos of my performance. I reply to the ones from Natalie first, they’re mostly congratulatory messages for last night so I thank her and throw a few gifs her way. The videos of my performance can wait. I need to let the thrill of it all die down first before I see how unpolished I am as a queen. Polish will come with time. And that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be perfect right away.

  Seth’s messages are so cutesy I want to vomit and cry at the same time. He’s wonderful. I’m excited to see where that’s going to go.

  ‘I heard your alarm!’ Mum calls up the stairs. ‘Can you come down here? I’m having a crisis!’

  ‘Give me a minute!’ I call back, my voice a little hoarse. Seth and I talked a lot last night. We kissed a lot too. My mouth is like a freaking desert, which isn’t cute. But Mum sounds in good spirits. Maybe now she knows my absolute last secret we can move forward. Secrets are poison. It was one thing to keep Connor from her, but to hide Mae Bee was stupid.

  I pull on some clothes and head downstairs. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror and see that there is glitter on my face. I wasn’t even wearing glitter last night so how that got there is beyond me. There’s a joke in there somewhere about queer people sweating glitter, but I’m too damn tired to make it.

  When I get downstairs, Mum has dresses hung up and so much make-up spread out on the table that it looks like there has been a break-in. She is in something of a state.

  ‘What’s happened? Has your closet exploded?’ I ask, stopping at the bottom step, not sure I want to walk into this level of chaos at – I check my phone – one o’clock in the afternoon? Jesus Christ, I have slept the hell in.

  ‘Look, I didn’t plan on bothering you with this, like, at all,’ she says, rushing around, examining dresses. Her hair is done, straightened to within an inch of its life and looking silky smooth as anything. ‘But I’m going out this afternoon, possibly for the rest of the day, and I have absolutely nothing to wear at all.’

  ‘Possibly for the rest of the day?’ I say, raising an eyebrow. ‘And who might you be doing that with?’

  She scoffs and waves a hand at me. ‘Nobody, just a couple of friends. I totally spaced on it until I got home last night so rain check on the trashy movie and takeout?’ she says.

  ‘I may still partake,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to do anything today if I can help it. Honestly, everything hurts and I’m dying.’

  ‘Tough work being a star?’

  ‘Stop that,’ I say. ‘Just an awfully long time to be wearing heels. I don’t know how you do it.’

  She holds up two dresses, one black, one leopardprint. Mum went through a phase where leopardprint was her favourite colour and I think, in this moment, she fully regrets it.

  ‘Black,’ I say. ‘But maybe with a colourful cardigan or wrap or something? Statement necklace?’

  ‘Who do you think I am?’

  ‘Someone who definitely has a statement necklace somewhere in her jewellery box. Come on, Mum, are you kidding me?’ She rummages and pulls out a giant, burnt-orange necklace and it’s so gaudy that I may steal it from her. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she says, and sits down in front of a mirror, starting to do her make-up. I watch her carefully, the way she does her foundation, only lightly. The way she uses only the slightest hint of eyeliner, unlike her son who uses so much he looks like a panda even now. ‘What are you doing?’ she asks.

  ‘Watching you,’ I say. ‘Getting tips.’

  She scoffs. ‘You don’t need tips from me,’ she says. ‘You looked gorgeous last night.’

  I smile. I can’t help it. ‘Really? You think?’

  Sh
e looks over the mirror at me. ‘Are you fishing?’

  ‘Maybe a little.’

  ‘I would tell you to tone down the eyeliner but I imagine that’s a drag thing,’ she says. ‘Not something I would do.’

  ‘You should try it,’ I say.

  ‘What? Drag?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘Well, drag make-up. It’s freeing. It can be big, bold and colourful, or understated and elegant, like what you’re doing now.’ She’s doing a smoky eye and the whole thing is like second nature to her, like she’s done it a hundred times before, a thousand even, and I guess she probably has. There is a blind sort of boldness to it: she knows what colours, she knows how much and she blends and blends and blends and, just like when I am doing my make-up, there is that moment where you think it’s gone wrong, but it’s not – it’s just not finished. In a strange way, it feels like a metaphor for life. Everything looks like it’s wrong and that it’s falling apart not because it is, but because it’s not finished yet. It’s not a mess – it’s a work in progress.

  ‘You’re more than welcome to do my make-up one day,’ she says, applying a nude lip. ‘But not right now. Call it payment for me backing out on our evening together.’

  I scoff. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do.’

  ‘Maybe invite Seth over.’

  ‘Mother—’

  ‘Do I need to have the talk with you?’ she says. ‘Do I need to have the talk with him?’

  ‘I’m not inviting him over,’ I say. ‘I owe Natalie a night in, I think. So as soon as you walk out the door I’m going to call her and get her over here. Girls’ night.’

  Mum laughs. ‘Girls’ night,’ she says. ‘Wonderful.’ She looks over at me from the dining table, her face just about finished. ‘I know we barely touched on it last night,’ she adds. ‘But I am proud of you, you know. For everything you’re doing, finding something that satisfies your creative flair and maybe stops you being so sad about college.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘It does make me happy.’

  ‘I can see that,’ she says. ‘You up on that stage was the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time.’

  I shrug. Performing is joy. I mean, it’s also fear and panic and wanting to throw up, but once you’re out there and you’re doing it, it is just joy.