Cocky Queen © May 2018 by Candace Blevins
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
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Cover design © 2018 Candace Blevins
First Edition May 2018
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Disclaimer
Copyright Page
Cocky Queen (The Chattanooga Supernaturals, #7)
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Bibliography
Bud
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
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SANDY WORKS IN THE Atlanta RTMC’s B&B. She’s a working girl. She’s close to graduating from Georgia Tech and doesn’t owe a penny in student loans. However, she hasn’t had a relationship in years. She has her trusty cocker spaniel, Prince, and a three-point-five GPA. There isn’t time for a man in her life, but she won’t even attempt a relationship while she supports herself with sex work.
Vic is a straight man who happens to be a bitchin’ drag queen. He’s also a peacock, which makes living in the city uncomfortable, but when his alter-ego Vickie gets a standing job as hostess of the stage for one of the premier drag shows in Atlanta, he moves into midtown — though thankfully he finds a condo adjoining Piedmont Park.
Can a drag queen — certain he’ll never find a woman who can handle the fact his wardrobe and makeup is better than hers — convince the workin’ girl to give him a chance? And can Sandy let someone into a kink she only discovered because a client asked for it? She’s never experienced it with someone she cares about, but it happens to be Vic’s kink, too.
Chapter One
Vic rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head, hopelessly trying to shut out his neighbor’s incessant alarm clock. Fuck, living in the city was a pain in the ass. Peacocks have exceptional hearing, and Vic could hear a conversation four units away — whether in human or animal form.
But for a drag queen, a standing gig every weekend to host one of the premier drag shows in Atlanta would be an important line on his resume. Moving into Atlanta had made sense, and he’d been lucky enough to be able to rent a condo adjoining Piedmont Park — because living where there weren’t trees and flowers would’ve been cruel to the spirited, vibrant bird inside him.
The park had to be enough, because a two-hour drive in the middle of the night after work wasn’t happening.
The alarm clock shut off, people started moving around and taking showers, and he sat up with a sigh. He was itchy in the city, and only getting three hours sleep didn’t help.
It wasn’t safe to shift into his peacock form, but a walk in the park would help. And breakfast.
As long as the chick with the damned cocker spaniel wasn’t out. Damn, that dog hated him. Most dogs showed an interest, but this particular dog made sure everyone within hearing distance knew how badly the little spaniel detested the human who smelled like a bird.
Perhaps Vic should take some cheese with him today. It couldn’t hurt to try to win the dog over, right?
Spring had taken its sweet time arriving, but it was finally warm enough for shorts. He may as well go for a run while he was up, so he put cut-off joggers on, his running shoes, and tucked his key and a credit card in the pocket. His phone was too heavy in the lightweight pocket while he ran, and he wouldn’t need it.
He also stuck a piece of string cheese in, still in the wrapper.
He’d made it most of the way around the park once when he heard the damned cocker spaniel barking. Vic slowed when he rounded a corner, and met the dog’s gaze.
No way would Vic look away. Little bastard wanted to tear into him in the worst sort of way — but, there was more than one way to skin a cat. Not that he wanted to skin anything.
Vic squatted and showed the dog the cheese before he peeled the wrapper back. He looked up at the little bastard’s beautiful owner and asked, “I assume he isn’t allergic?”
“He loves string cheese. You did good.” She pulled back on the leash when Prince snapped and lunged. “Prince, for goodness sakes, he brought cheese for you. Be nice!”
Prince growled the entire time he ate the cheese, but he didn’t snap or snarl anymore, which was an improvement.
“Do you have time for breakfast?” Prince’s gorgeous owner asked. “I can take Prince back to my apartment and then we can go somewhere close. My treat.”
Vic gave the last of the cheese to the little guy and stood. The little dog’s owner was a knock-out — dirty blonde hair with what looked like gold streaks running through it, blue eyes, and boobs just the right size: not too big and not too small. He’d noticed her smile first, though. This morning, without any makeup at all, she practically glowed — inner beauty as well as the outside kind.
“Most people don’t trust someone their dog doesn’t like.”
She sighed. “The last guy I dated was an ass, and Prince loved him right from the start. The guy before was a great guy but things didn’t work out, and Prince detested him. I don’t think my dog’s a good judge of character.”
Vic laughed and couldn’t help himself.
But... breakfast?
Relationships never worked. Everyone assumed he was gay, and women didn’t deal so well with a boyfriend better than them at applying makeup. And with a better shoe collection. And evening gowns. And wigs.
“Look, no strings. Just breakfast,” she said. “I’ve seen you running, sitting, and I think meditating. It feels like we’re both from the country and surviving the city. Just breakfast, so we don’t have to eat alone.”
He offered his hand, which made Prince go from grumbling and growling to barking again, but he ignored the dog. “I’m Vic.”
She smiled and shook it. “Sandy.”
SANDY WAS BREAKING every rule she had.
She’d planned to walk Pr
ince and go back to bed, and had lost her mind and asked a stranger to breakfast — and now she was about to let a man she didn’t know see where she lived.
Workin’ girls don’t get to have relationships.
Okay, some of the girls she worked with did, but from what she could tell, the men were using them for a place to live. They weren’t healthy relationships. She didn’t know if she’d ever find someone who could be okay with what she’d done to get her degree, but at least she’d no longer be fucking for money by then.
And she’d be a biomedical engineer and could finally do the work she was meant to do.
“Tea and food would be good,” Vic told her. “I didn’t get much sleep. Living in a condo in the city has taken some getting used to — and I’m not there yet.”
“Tea? Not coffee?” Sandy couldn’t have survived college without coffee.
“I only got a few hours’ sleep, else I wouldn’t even consider the tea,” he told her.
She’d seen his oh-so-fine body running, and noted the lack of body hair — and perfectly shaped eyebrows — but he didn’t seem effeminate in any other way. Still, he seemed a bit of a conundrum.
“Tell me you aren’t one of those food purists,” she said.
A half smile, and his eyes practically sparkled despite the fact he was obviously tired. “Guilty, but I try not to be annoying with it.” He looked her over, from head to foot and back, but wasn’t a jerk about it. “You take care of yourself, too.”
She shrugged. “I eat a lot of salad and rarely eat meat. I’m not a vegetarian, I just prefer...” She shrugged again and started for home. Prince walked with her, still grumbling and growling, and keeping his body between her and Vic. “We can have an actual conversation over breakfast. Walk with me if you’re coming.”
He fell in step beside her and said, “You didn’t get much sleep last night either.”
“No, but my dog doesn’t understand Saturdays are for sleeping in. Sometimes I walk him and go back to sleep, but I’m awake and hungry.”
“And without makeup, with your hair in a ponytail. Also, a simple little dress you could throw on quickly. You hoped to go back to sleep.”
Sandy’s senses went on alert. “What, are you a cop?”
“No.” He stretched it out a little longer than necessary, and seemed to take a really long breath in. “Is there a reason you’re afraid of the police?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She had rules for a reason, and now she’d put herself to the attention of someone who probably shouldn’t look at her.
She pulled Prince back again. He really didn’t like Vic. “You know, maybe breakfast isn’t such a good idea.”
Vic stepped in front of her, rotated, and stopped, his gaze holding hers. “Baby girl, what are you afraid of?”
“I’m not your baby girl.”
“No, you aren’t, but I see you. Why are you afraid?”
She lifted her chin. “How do you know I’m afraid?”
“Prince is louder and more aggressive because he sees me as more of a threat again. Also, your breathing is faster, your...” He stopped talking, looked away, looked back. “I can just tell. I’m sorry you’re afraid. I’m not a cop. I’m not in law enforcement.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“What do you do?”
Chapter Two
Stalemate. Vic would’ve welcomed this ten minutes earlier, but now he wanted to know more about the beautiful woman who wasn’t opposed to being called baby girl, so long as it was clear she wasn’t his baby girl.
Not yet, anyway.
Fuck. What was he thinking? He’d chosen to be a drag queen and now this was his life. The one he’d worked so hard for. He’d made it, and if that meant friends but no girlfriend, then that’s what it meant.
If he’d been gay, he’d have had too many options to count, but a straight man? Women were interested for the adventure, but none wanted to stick around. They might think they’ll be okay with it, but no one really wants a boyfriend more glamorous than them.
And the odds of finding a woman who could love a drag queen, and who also liked to be treated like a little girl? Never going to happen.
Still, this woman could get to know him before she found out where he worked, and what he did at night.
And she liked being called baby girl. He’d seen it and smelled her reaction. Sure, she’d protested, but she’d still liked it.
“Okay, baby-girl, here’s what we know. We both work into the wee hours of the morning, and neither of us wants to talk about what we do for a living. Your dog hates me, which is apparently a good sign. I need food and tea, and you need coffee. Do you trust me to walk with you to take Prince home, or would you rather meet me somewhere? Tell me where to meet you, and I will, but if you’re going to blow me off then be honest enough to let me know now.”
Prince growled louder, and she laughed. “Yeah. Okay. How about the Flying Biscuit? We can walk together, though. If you wait for me outside my apartment building, that’ll be enough.”
“Works for me, but I’ll need to stop at my apartment and grab a shirt.”
Vic invited her in, but she stayed on the sidewalk. He was in and out in a few minutes, and they continued on their way. He’d changed into khaki shorts and a navy shirt, and put his wallet and cellphone in his pocket this time. Also, a tube of chapstick because he couldn’t afford to let his lips get in bad shape.
She lived in a high-rise apartment, and was in and back out in ten minutes.
“Sorry, it took a little longer than I thought,” she said when she returned without Prince. “My neighbor’s agoraphobic and rarely leaves. She does graphic arts stuff from home and has everything delivered, and she adores Prince. He stays with her when I’m at school or work — or eating breakfast with strangers I just met in the park.”
“How did you meet a neighbor who never leaves her apartment?”
“She was standing in front of the elevator, trying to get up enough nerve to go down and out. Prince helped, and I had some time, so I walked with her to the corner market. She hadn’t planned well with her deliveries and needed something right away.”
“If I couldn’t go out, I’d need to be in a big house in the country, at least. An apartment in a high-rise has to feel like a cage.”
“Not at all. The outer wall is all one big window, and our views of the city are spectacular.”
“You didn’t grow up in a city.” He could easily see her laughing in a creek, playing in the mud.
“No, but I can still appreciate it.” A pause. “How do you know I’m not a city girl?”
“Oh, baby-girl, you have a southern Georgia accent or my name isn’t...” Fuck, he’d almost said Vickie, and he’d used his stage voice, dripping with a southern Alabama accent.
She put her hands on her hips, and he smelled confusion followed quickly by triumph.
“Oh. My gosh. You’re Vickie! I’d have never seen it, but I’d recognize that voice anywhere.”
Vic’s heart went into his throat and beat triple time, but he took a breath and nodded. So much for letting her get to know him as Vic.
Since she knew, no way would he be embarrassed. He loved his life and his chosen profession, he just wished relationships were possible. He’d seen a possibility, but now it was gone.
“I am. Is that a deal-breaker?”
She laughed again. “No. I always thought you’d be a handsome man, and probably a little of a Dom. I guess that explains the eyebrows, too. They didn’t seem to fit the rest of you.” She looked at his legs. “Waxed? I’d wondered about that, too.”
He grinned. “And yet you still asked me to breakfast?”
“Yes, and all of my original reasons still stand. Vickie is from some little Podunk town outside of Montgomery, Alabama. I’m from a little Podunk town south of Albany, Georgia called Radium Springs.”
“How do you know so much about Vickie?” She’d quoted part of his act.
“I’ve always felt
as if we were from the same place, the way you talk about home. And there’s more, like we have other things in common. It’s silly, and maybe that’s why Vickie’s such a hit, because others feel the same way?” She shrugged. “You have a touch of the accent you use on stage, but it isn’t as pronounced, and comes off different —it’s more manly and less of a caricature. Sorry. I don’t want to offend you.”
“No need to be sorry. You understand I’m playing a role when I’m in drag? I’m straight, when I’m like this. Not even bi.” Not that there was anything wrong with being gay or bi, but Vic wasn’t. He’d tried to be, but it hadn’t done anything for him. He liked women. People who thought being gay was a choice should try choosing it sometime.
He opened the door to the restaurant, she thanked him, and they were promptly seated.
“We’re up way too early for a Saturday morning,” he said with a laugh. “The fact we’re being seated without waiting is proof.”
“I’m up because of Prince, but you don’t have a dog. Why are you awake so early?” she asked as they sat. “You can’t have had more than three hours sleep.”
“My neighbor’s alarm goes off at six in the morning, even on weekends. Wakes me up every damned time.”
They ordered, and after a few moments of their first awkward silence, she asked, “Is it rude to ask what made you decide to become a drag queen?”
Vic sat back and looked at her a second before answering. “It’s a valid question, but I’m not sure it was ever a decision. I’ve always enjoyed acting, and my mom let me start auditioning at our local theater when I was still in elementary school. After I’d been cast in a few plays, I was disappointed because the next one they chose didn’t have a part for a young boy — though there were three parts for girls my age and just a little older.” He shrugged. “So I bought a cheap wig with my allowance, and got a dress at the Goodwill, and some cute little sandals, and I auditioned — and got the part, but only because only three of us auditioned for the three available parts.”
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