Killer Queen: A Painted Faces Novel

by Cosway, L. H.

  “That’s not possible, Dad. If anything, your presence will make us cooler. The gays love an older man.”

  Bill gave her a fond yet embarrassed smile, and then Eileen began telling everyone about the online dating site she’d just signed up to. Some strange sense of relief and contentment came over me. Fred’s family hadn’t thought me strange. In fact, they’d taken the news of my profession with little more than a backward glance. I felt accepted in the most unexpected place.

  As the conversation washed over us, Fred took my hand in hers beneath the table and squeezed. When I looked at her, she gave me an expression that was full of love, and in that moment I could tell she knew just how much her family’s acceptance meant to me.

  December 31st, 2012.

  Soundtrack: “Viva La Vida” by Coldplay

  New Year’s Eve at The Glamour Patch was certainly an occasion. I wasn’t there in a working capacity; Phil had booked a very popular drag queen he knew from San Francisco to come do a show, and it was sold out. The whole place had been decorated with banners and streamers in silver and gold, with a large glittering rainbow banner hung across the stage.

  Fred wore a beautiful purple dress I’d bought for her as a Christmas gift. I got a perverse pleasure out of dolling her up, but I knew she’d much rather be in something comfy. It clung to her curves in a way that was simply delicious. I was dressed in a navy Hugo Boss suit with a white shirt and a slim blue tie. Fred was practically drooling when she caught sight of me. Every time I saw her checking me out, it gave me a little boost. And I was in need of one, because although Christmas dinner at her parents’ house had been a success, there was still something going on with her. It had been five days, and every time I tried to talk to her, ask her what was wrong, she’d shut down and make an excuse about being stressed for the opening of her shop.

  We arrived at the club about an hour earlier, and I got swept up chatting with some friends. It took me a while to realise that Fred had disappeared. I vaguely wondered where she’d gotten to, but I presumed Phil had roped her into helping him with something. For the past two days he’d been flitting around the place, stressed out to the max over New Year’s. He wanted everything to go perfectly.

  There were only thirty minutes left before midnight, and Fred still hadn’t appeared. I was just about to begin looking for her when I felt her soft fingers slide into mine. She was behind me, leaning close to murmur in my ear.

  “Come with me, Viv.”

  Silently, I allowed her to lead me to the back of the club to a narrow staircase at the end of a corridor. I’d never been in this part of the building before because it only housed a few storage closets. Fred led me up four flights of stairs until we reached the roof. The club was housed in an old Georgian building that had been gutted many times over the years, so the only part of it that could be dated back to the original structure was the outer brickwork. The roof was flat and made of grey concrete, with old sooty chimneys. It was high enough that it gave a decent view over the nearby rooftops and reminded me of the “Chim Chim Cheree” scene in Mary Poppins.

  There was something appealing about the entire setting; it gave off a sort of Dickensian vibe.

  Somebody had hung fairy lights all around the edge of the building, making it magical with a touch of old-timey decay. A table was set up with a chilled bottle of champagne, glasses, and a bowl of strawberries. Fred stopped and turned to face me, biting anxiously on her lower lip. I was smiling widely because it was clear she’d planned this whole romantic interlude. She must have wanted us to welcome in the New Year in private. It would be our first, after all.

  I was touched that she’d gone to all this trouble.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, I clutched her face in my hands and pulled her to me for a slow, seductive kiss. Her body melted into mine, but she drew away before I could sink my tongue inside her mouth.

  “This is amazing, Freda,” I breathed. “I love it.”

  She gave me a small, unsure smile. “I’m glad.”

  I frowned and brought my hands to her hips, massaging them. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling well? You look pale.”

  Instead of answering, she pulled back a little and began to get down on one knee. I raised an eyebrow, I’ll admit, wondering if she planned on giving me head or something. I wouldn’t have protested, but it was a bit too cold out for that sort of thing.

  My thoughts were cut short when she reached inside her clutch bag and retrieved a small black velvet box. For a split second, I was confused. But then, when I realised what she was about to do, emotion clutched at my chest, and I found it difficult to breathe for a moment. Disbelief filled me. She stared up at me, and although the noise from all the nearby parties was surrounding us, it felt like we were trapped in a bubble of absolute silence. Suspended in time. I swallowed, my eyes growing watery, because I couldn’t believe she was doing this.

  I was supposed to be the one to do it; it was tradition, but for some bizarre reason, this felt right.

  Christ, I loved her so fucking much. Only Fred would think to do something like this.

  “Darling,” I whispered as she opened the box with a shaky hand to reveal a beautiful white gold band carved with a Celtic design. “You don’t have to do this.”

  She squeezed her eyes closed. “Shut up, Nicholas, just shut up for a second.”

  “Fred,” I said, and a soft, emotional laugh escaped me. “Just say what you wanted to say.” I didn’t know why, but all of a sudden I was desperate for her to speak the words.

  “I will. I just need a minute.”

  “Isn’t your knee hurting, kneeling on the ground like that?” I went on with a grin.

  She sighed and allowed her face to drop against my thigh. “You’re fucking loving this, aren’t you?” she grumbled, but there was a smile in her voice.

  “Of course I am! It’s not every day a girl gets proposed to by the most eligible cupcake baker in town.”

  Laughter overtook her then. “I’m a disaster.”

  “You’re perfect,” I said. “Is this why you’ve been acting so strange lately?”

  She nodded, her face still pressed into my thigh. “Obviously. I’m been shitting a brick.”

  “Ah, how romantic,” I teased.

  She slapped my leg. “Shut up!”

  “Are you worried about what my answer will be?” I smirked, and brushed a hand affectionately over her hair.

  “Hell, yes! You know I don’t handle rejection well.”

  “You had better ask me and see, then, hadn’t you.”

  She drew in a sharp breath, levelling her beautiful eyes on me. They shone in the dim light. “Viv, I know I’m a loud-mouthed, snarky, difficult little bitch, but would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?” she said, her words coming out in one long tumble.

  “You really know how to pull off the art of self-deprecating while proposing, Freda,” I replied before pulling her up to her feet and wrapping my arms around her tight. I nipped at her lips then, my voice a low rumble. “And yes, I’ll marry you. I fucking love you to the end of the world and back.”

  Tears began to run down her face, but she was laughing at the same time. “Oh, God. You said yes. Now I have to deal with a wedding. Yeah. That’s happening. I think I need a drink.”

  I grinned. “I know. Imagine if we both turned up wearing the same dress. Now, that would be embarrassing.”

  She slapped me again, still crying tears of happiness. “Nicholas, be serious for a minute. Are you sure you want this? I mean, my hair gets in everything, I’m constantly saying the wrong thing, and I’ll probably feed you too many cupcakes and make you fat.”

  “That’s not a negative, Fred. I’ve always aspired to be fappy.”

  She gave me a quizzical look. “Fappy?”

  “Fat plus happy equals fappy. It’s an illness prevalent among those quite comfortably and smugly in love.”

  Shaking her head, she took the
ring from the box and then lifted my hand, sliding the band onto my finger. “You like?”

  “I adore it. It’s perfect. Now we have to go out and get you one.”

  “Ha-ha! Oh, yes, better get your credit card ready, Viv. I want a diamond — a big, massive diamond the size of somebody’s eyeball,” she joked, and led me over to the champagne, which I saw on the label was nonalcoholic.

  “Care for some champers?”

  “I wouldn’t say no to a glass,” I replied, and she poured. Picking up a strawberry, I bit into it and allowed some of the juice to run down my lip on purpose. Then, quite slowly, I licked it away and emitted a low groan. “Delicious.”

  Her eyes were glued to my mouth, and the champagne overflowed the glass a little.

  “Shit,” she swore, putting down the bottle and the glass. I took a step closer to her and grabbed her hand, which was now soaked in champagne. Bringing her finger to my mouth, I sucked it between my lips, murmuring, “Yum.”

  Her chest began to heave. It had been over a week since we’d fucked, and she’d obviously started to feel it. She shivered, and I lifted her easily onto the table, the champagne and strawberries long forgotten. Holding her chin, I brought her mouth to mine and kissed her, all slow and wet. My hand moved up her body until it found her breast and kneaded. It felt even bigger than usual because I hadn’t had the opportunity to pay attention to it in a while. Fred sighed and strained against me.

  “Let’s go home,” she whispered. “I want to go to your bed. You know, celebrate.”

  I pinched her nipple through the fabric. “Oh, we’re going to my bed, but I’m going to have a taste of you first, wife.”

  Her eyes widened, and she laughed nervously. “Fuck, I kind of like it when you call me that.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded, biting her lip.

  I brought my other hand up so that I could palm both breasts. Yeah, they definitely did feel bigger. I realised I was frowning when Fred asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Your tits feel bigger, that’s all. You were keeping them under lock and key for so long it seems I’d forgotten them.”

  Now she was frowning, too. Her cheeks blazed red as she looked away and said quietly, “Oh, yeah, that’s probably the reason.”

  I’d expected a sassy comeback, and the fact I didn’t get one made me curious. I massaged them, and I knew she was enjoying it, but now she was a fraction less relaxed. In fact, her body grew more rigid by the second, and there were secrets in her eyes. Over the past few months, I’d grown accustomed to knowing when she was lying to me, and this felt like one of those times.

  “Out with it,” I cajoled softly.

  “Out with what?”

  “With whatever you’re keeping from me.”

  “I’m not keeping anything from you.”

  “Freda.” Her name was a tender reprimand.

  “Oh, Jesus, Nicholas, we just got engaged. Can we enjoy the moment without ruining it?” she said, a strain in her voice.

  “Why would the moment be ruined?” I was apprehensive now, and I suddenly remembered the thought I’d had at Christmas about her being sick. Is that why she proposed? Did she only want to marry me because she was ill? My gut sank, and it felt like the blood had drained from my face.

  She was silent as I grabbed her shoulders, looking her dead in the eye. “Are you sick, Fred?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “Are you dying? Is that why you’re proposing? You want to marry me before you go?” Tears clogged my throat, and I felt like I might vomit. I was being overdramatic, but the thought of losing her made me that way. Until this moment, I had never realised just how bad it would be if she were gone. The colour in my life would disappear again, and I didn’t know if I’d survive the loss of her.

  “Say something!” I demanded, because she was still just wordlessly staring at me.

  She swallowed. “I’m not sick.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I swear, Fred, don’t lie.”

  Something seemed snap inside her as she yelled, “Oh, for crying out loud, Nicholas. I’m not sick, I’m pregnant!”

  For the second time that night, time seemed to stop. I breathed quickly in and out, eyes flickering back and forth between hers, wondering if I was hearing things. Neither one of us had spoken when distant church bells began to ring and celebratory cheering sounded from all around us. The clock had just struck twelve. A new year had begun.

  A new year had begun. I was getting married to Fred, and we were having a baby.

  She turned and walked to the other side of the roof, hugging herself in her arms. I stood there, still trying to comprehend how much my life had changed in the space of a few short minutes. I didn’t know what to make of it, but then, I suddenly realised how amazingly wonderful those changes were. How desperately I wanted them.

  The woman I loved was carrying my child inside her. I felt like my every pore was alive as the sheer happiness of the moment began to fill me. I strode across the roof after Fred and wrapped my arms around her from behind.

  “We’re having a baby,” I whispered, my lips brushing her ear, and I felt her nod.

  “I found out almost two weeks ago. I didn’t know how to tell you, didn’t know how you’d react,” she whispered apologetically, and I squeezed her tighter, feeling like I simply couldn’t get close enough. I wasn’t mad at her for keeping the secret for so long; I couldn’t be even if I tried, because the feeling of pure, undiluted joy was overriding everything else.

  I turned her now so that she was facing me, and cupped her face in my hands. “Look at me, Fred. This is how I’m reacting. I’ve never felt happier, never felt more whole in my life. Never.”

  She blinked, and a tear ran down her face. “I’ve been so frightened. I so fiercely wanted you to want this baby as much as I do. That’s when I came up with the idea of proposing. I thought that if you said yes to marrying me, then you wouldn’t hate the idea of a baby.”

  “How the fuck could I ever hate the idea of our child, Fred?” I swore. “You’re my whole bloody world.”

  Her eyes became all soft and melty at my words, and her body sank into mine. All of the previous rigidity was gone. “It was that night at the shop, you know, when you got home from London.”

  I allowed my hand to run down her body until it reached her stomach, and then I started to rub. “Ah, so the little one was conceived on a baking counter.”

  Fred laughed softly. “It certainly brings new meaning to the term bun in the oven.”

  I laughed, too, and it was full of joy. My rubbing turned to caressing, and then something very primal and possessive came over me. I adored the fact that she was carrying my child, and I wanted to claim every inch of her all over again. My hand sneaked beneath her dress and straight to her waiting flesh. She moaned when my fingers met her soft, aching core. She really had been feeling my absence these past two weeks.

  “Happy New Year,” I murmured as I sank two fingers inside her and sucked her earlobe into my mouth.

  “Happy New Year,” she replied, all raspy.

  The sounds of revelry and celebration still washed over us as we had our own private celebration on that rooftop. I made love to her then, in the cold, under the stars, and we were so hot for each other that we barely felt a chill.

  March 9th, 2013.

  Soundtrack: “Your Song” by Elton John.

  We got married in City Hall. I refused to think of it as a shotgun wedding, because there was certainly nobody holding a gun to my head. I wanted to marry Fred more than I wanted to take my next breath. She hadn’t cared where we tied the knot, so long as we were surrounded by family and friends. However, when we announced our engagement, Phil almost went into a frenzy and insisted we let him plan the whole thing. We agreed, and before I knew it, a date was set and invites were going out to friends from all over the world. Friends I hadn’t seen in years.

  Phil was my best man, and Sean, Harry, and Dave (Linda
Lovely) were my groomsmen. As you might guess, I didn’t get any sexy strippers for my stag night. Instead, I was brought to a Madonna tribute show and then whisked off to a tattoo parlour. At least they hadn’t hired any male strippers, so it wasn’t all bad.

  When I arrived for the ceremony with Phil and the officiant greeted us, I thought he looked a little bit pale. It made me want to smile. I guess he hadn’t expected half the male attendees to be decked out in fancier dresses than most of the women there.

  What could I say? I’d been performing for a long time, and the majority of the friends I’d accumulated over the years were in the same profession as I was. And if you knew anything about drag queens, you’d know that any excuse for a new frock and a fancy hat was going to be snapped right up like a Gucci purse in the January sales.

  Fred had sent me a text message the night before, coyly requesting that I wear some guyliner to the ceremony because she thought it would be sexy. I’d texted back, telling her she needed to stop trying to relive her Jared Leto phase through me. I’d chuckled to myself, imagining her pouty look at my response, but if I was going to be all Nicholas at least one day of my life, this was it. My tux had been tailor made, and I thought I looked quite dashing, even if I did say so myself.

  Fred was just over three months pregnant. She didn’t have a proper bump yet, but one of my newest pastimes was laying my head on her belly and talking to our unborn child. Fred would shoot me cynical looks, and it was funny because I was turning out to have more maternal instincts than she was. I supposed it was fitting that I would be the mother figure and she the father figure in our little family.

  I couldn’t believe that this time last year I was at my lowest ebb, and now it felt like I had everything I ever wanted. I had a family and a place in the world. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve it.