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  “Some of those queens you mentioned have faced a lot of grief,” Sinthia said. “They’ve been bullied, beat up, even raped. It’s not an easy life.”

  She pulled another photo out of the folder. The queen in this picture was as beautiful as she was well-muscled, with bulging pecs and biceps. “I imagine this one could take care of herself in a fight. Her name’s Monica Delectable and she’s the muscle queen I mentioned. She’s my only lip-syncer this season. She’s a fabulous dancer, too: cartwheels, splits, death drops, the works.”

  Their bleach-blond waiter hurried up to the table. “Hello again! Do we have room for dessert today?”

  “I’ll have the cherry cheesecake, made with fake cheese,” Sinthia said. “How about you, December?”

  “Carrot cake for me. Thanks!”

  The next photo showed a thin young queen wearing a billowing purple wig and an oversized silicone breastplate. Her lips were full and shiny. Clearly she was a fan of lip injections. “This is Amanda Cherysh. She’s streetwise and sassy – an excellent comedy queen. She performs at a lot of festivals and comedy clubs. She’s into physical comedy, too. She originally wanted to become a clown, but clowns have fallen out of favor.”

  “That’s true,” December said. “I hear most circuses don’t have clowns anymore. Kids think they’re too scary. A lot of adults think so, too. The problem is, too many horror movies have overused them, so they’ve become icons of horror. Drag queens are gradually replacing clowns as funny, likeable sources of entertainment.”

  “Drag queens replacing clowns?’ Sinthia considered the notion. “Interesting idea. Not all drag queens are funny. But then, not all clowns are funny.”

  “True. Drag humor is very different from clown humor. Drag humor is based on clever wordplay, not throwing pies. Personally, I have no problem with clowns. There’s something gentle and whimsical about them. I’d like to see them make a comeback.”

  Sinthia took out another photo. “Here we have Babette Babelon. She’s very sophisticated. Looks a bit like Audrey Hepburn. Just look at those pearls wrapped around her slender throat. Her talent is singing torch songs. Not campy parodies, but honest-to-goodness torch songs. She performs at both straight and gay nightclubs.”

  “I caught her act once,” December said. “It was at a hotel cocktail lounge. I didn’t even realize she was a drag queen until the end of her act, when she took off the wig.”

  The next photo that Sinthia held up showed a lovely red-haired queen pulling a rabbit out of a top hat. “Guess this one’s talent.”

  December smiled. “Sous-chef? Accordion player?”

  “Our magical beauty here is Kellista Sweet. Very confident and vivacious. The highlight of her act is sawing a male dancer in half. Vertically!”

  Their waiter brought them their desserts. “Just set them down,” Sinthia said to him. “We’ll get to them shortly.” She pointed toward the photos on the table. “So tell me, young man. Which of these fine ladies do you think is the prettiest?”

  “That would be you, of course!” the waiter said with a wink. He then turned and hurried off.

  “Smart boy,” Sinthia noted. She pulled the final photo from the folder. “Velvet Vixun is a celebrity impersonator. She looks like Marilyn Monroe in this photo, and can talk and sing like her, too. She also portrays other celebrities in her act – from Mae West to Amy Winehouse to Angela Lansbury. I think she’s somebody you could use at your modeling agency. I’m sure her skills would be in great demand. Feel free to contact her.”

  “I’ll do that, thanks!” December said.

  Sinthia gathered up the photos, slid them back into the folder and handed it to December. “You can take these with you. I need to think up some contestant challenges for the new season, and if you think up some, be sure to let me know. We’ll do lunch again. Or cocktails after-hours, if you like.”

  December handed Sinthia her cherry cheesecake, since he was closest to the desserts. He also retrieved his carrot cake. “These girls have an eclectic mix of talents. Have you decided on any particular challenges so far?”

  Sinthia nodded. “A few! For example, I want to do an episode called ‘Drag Circus.’ Each queen will need to incorporate her talents into an act for the big top.”

  “Maybe our torch song singer will give us her rendition of ‘Send In The Clowns,’” December said.

  “Yes, that would work.” Sinthia looked across the restaurant to where Viveka was chatting with her friend. “A thought occurred to me. You say Viveka is doing an exhibit on your masculine beauty. Maybe she’s like to do an exhibit on the mystique of drag queens. Between your agency and my show, we’d be able to provide her with dozens to consider.”

  “Good idea! But we don’t want to give her dozens. The more choices she has, the longer it’ll take for her to think about it. How about this? After I’ve looked over the photos and resumes, and maybe added a couple from the agency, I’ll give them to her, just to get her thinking about the possibilities. Do you have photos and resumes for you and Claudia in your case? She might want to incorporate information about your show.”

  “I never leave the house without ‘em!” So saying, Sinthia opened the case, pulled out photos and resumes for herself and Claudia, and added them to the folder. “You should add some pictures of past celebrity guests from Stitched, to give Gabe’s show some consideration. Maybe two or three of his best ones.”

  “I’ll do that, thanks!” December said. “We just need to remember, it might take a while for her to get around to it, if she even decides to do it at all. She always has a million projects in the mix.”

  Sinthia shrugged. “No problem. I always have plenty of projects going on myself. I always say: If it was meant to be, it’ll happen. Meanwhile, it doesn’t hurt to plant some seeds, just to see if anything takes root.”

  Chapter 2

  December first wondered if he was gay at age fifteen, back when he was Derek. Before then, he never thought about anything sexual. Informing their only child about the facts of life was not a priority for either of his parents.

  His father, Scott, was always very busy with his work. His mother, Chloe, was preoccupied with a personal issue. Her nose was very large, like her Greek father’s, and she considered herself homely. As a result, she wasn’t eager to socialize.

  His parents were always pushing him to do better in school, so he’d receive scholarships when it was time for college. They discouraged him from frivolous interests, like having close friends or pursuing girls. His parents often told him that girls would distract him from his studies, and if he made one pregnant, he’d never have enough money to enter college. They never volunteered to discuss the mechanics of impregnating a girl, and he never learned anything when he asked them directly about sex. His mother would say, “Go ask your dad.” His father would say, “You’re too young to think about those things. You don’t want to become a sex maniac and get a sexual disease.”

  For that reason, most of young Derek’s thoughts concerned simple, expressly nonsexual matters, like studying hard, passing tests, and becoming more involved with intellectual extracurricular activities. Activities approved by his folks included chess club and science fairs. After-school sports teams were definitely not approved by them. According to his mother, “Playing football is a good way to break a bone!” She also told him, a game of baseball could destroy an eye, should the ball ever hit him in the face.

  Derek noticed that other guys were obsessed with girls, but he figured he wasn’t old enough yet. Some of those other guys were as old as him, if not older, but if his father was right, they were probably sex maniacs, crawling with sexual disease germs.

  When Derek was fifteen, the next-door neighbors, Harlan and Beth Wilson, welcomed a sixteen-year-old foreign exchange student into their home. Beth was an English teacher at Derek’s high school. Every year at the school, a different teacher would host a student. That year, the Wilsons volunteered to be hosts.

  The student’s name w
as Gabriel and he was from France. He’d never been to America before but he spoke English from talking with his father, who was originally from Wisconsin. Gabriel had a French accent, but it was slight. He was tall and pale, with black hair and bright blue eyes. He grew up in Paris and he was kind and talkative. He became friends with Derek from the moment they met.

  “What do you think you’ll do for a living someday?” Gabriel once asked him. They were sitting on the steps of the Wilson’s front porch on a Saturday afternoon. Derek’s parents had gone off to buy groceries. He’d stayed behind so he could visit Gabriel and talk with him.

  “For a living? That’s a tough question,” Derek said. “It would have to be something I really enjoy doing. I might like to become a chef. Still, I’m not sure if I’d want to be around so much food. I might get fat. Or, maybe I could be a cop. A police job would be exciting.”

  “Shooting at criminals would be exciting, yes. But you have to remember, they’d be shooting back at you.”

  “Yeah…. My mom wouldn’t like it. She’s always telling me not to do anything where I could get hurt.”

  “My mother’s the same way,” Gabriel said. “At first, she didn’t want me to come to this country. She was afraid I’d be killed or kidnapped immediately. The way she talked, you’d think the world outside of France was one big crazy-house. But my father came from America – from Wisconsin – and he told her she worried too much. I suppose that’s why I warned you that criminals will shoot at you! I was acting like my mother.”

  “What do you think I should do for a living?”

  “You could be an actor – or better yet, a male model. That’s probably easier. I’m sure they must get paid well.”

  “A model? I don’t know about that!” Derek smiled and blushed. “A person has to be really good-looking to get those jobs.”

  “But you are! Don’t you think you’re handsome?”

  “Not handsome enough to be on TV. I’m too skinny.”

  “You’re a little skinny, but that’s good for actors and models,” Gabriel said. “They say the camera adds ten pounds.”

  Derek grinned. “If a person has three cameras on them, do they pick up thirty pounds?”

  “Ha! You have a great sense of humor,” Gabriel said.

  “If I do, I got it from my grandma on my mom’s side. She’s a lot funnier than my mom.” He then remembered what they’d been talking about a moment earlier. “I wanted to ask: If I decide to follow a career in modeling or acting, what should be my major in college?”

  Gabriel laughed. “I don’t think you can major in being a model, but you can major in fashion design. And, actors can major in theater and drama. But in the long run, careers as a performer rely more on experience than book-learning.”

  “If that’s the case, I don’t think I could get into either of those careers,” Derek said. “I’m sure my parents wouldn’t like it.”

  Gabriel shrugged. “So what if they don’t? You have to do something you’d enjoy. If you aren’t having any fun, what’s the point of being alive?”

  “But a person can’t have fun all day.”

  “Why not? If you’re in the right job, why can’t you have fun all day?”

  “That’s a good question,” Derek said. He found this conversation very exciting. He often worried about what the future held for him, but as he listened to Gabriel, it didn’t seem as scary as he’d thought. “So what kind of job will you get when you’re older?”

  Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’m full of advice, but I don’t always apply it to myself.”

  “You’re very smart,” Derek said. “I’m sure you could do anything you wanted. Anything at all. You could probably get a job eating candy bars and playing video games all day!”

  Gabriel laughed. “That would be a good fantasy job – for a little kid. But if we’re talking fantasies, I’d want something a little more grown-up.”

  “Like what? What would be your fantasy?”

  Gabriel pointed down the sidewalk. “Hey, there’s your parents’ car.”

  “They’re back from the store. I’d better go help them. Talk to ya later!”

  Derek helped his parents to carry the groceries into the house. While they were putting away food, his mother asked him, “Was that the foreign exchange student you were talking to, out on the Wilson’s porch?”

  “Yeah, his name’s Gabriel.”

  “What country is he from?” Chloe asked. Her voice carried a distinct note of worry.

  “France,” he said.

  “France? I’m not crazy about you talking to some kid from France. They let their kids drink wine over there.”

  His father laughed. “Simmer down, honey. The French are good people. They were on our side during both World Wars. And they only let the older kids have a little wine with dinner. It’s not like the first-graders drink it in class. And they do have museums in France.”

  “Well, French people are supposed to be sophisticated,” Chloe said. “I’m just glad he’s not from Italy. Those Italians, they were on the same side as Hitler during World War II. This Gabriel, he wasn’t smoking or cussing, was he?”

  “No, he was very polite. He doesn’t have much of a French accent. His dad came from Wisconsin.”

  “I guess you can talk to him,” she said. “I don’t know much about French people, but folks from Wisconsin are fine.”

  “Are you sure, honey?” Scott said, smirking. “You know that scary movie, Psycho? It was based on some real-life guy named Ed Gein, and if I remember correctly, he was from Wisconsin! He used to cut people up and make stuff out of them, like clothes and furniture.”

  “I suppose every state has had at least one screwball in it,” Chloe said with a shrug.

  “Frankly, I’m glad Derek’s talking to somebody with some class,” Scott said. “Somebody from France! Our boy’s not going to learn anything by talking to the local hicks and hooligans.”

  Later, when he was folding the laundry, Derek thought about what his parents had said to him earlier. They were determining whether or not he should be allowed to talk to Gabriel. In the end, they’d agreed it would be acceptable, but still, it bothered him that they needed to decide who he could talk with. He wasn’t a grade-school baby – he was fifteen years old. Practically an adult.

  A few days later, Derek found out the school’s Drama Department was going to hold try-outs for a play, William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Gabriel said he was going to try out for the part of Lysander, a young man of Athens and one of the male leads.

  “You should try out for the part of Demetrius,” Gabriel said. “He’s another young man of Athens, and he’s also a male lead. We can help each other learn our lines.” He then gave Derek some suggestions on how he could sell his parents on the idea of him appearing in the play.

  That night at home, Derek told his parents about the play. He explained that because it was written by William Shakespeare, colleges would be impressed by his involvement with the production. Also, an acting challenge would develop his social skills, so he’d be good at giving business presentations in the future.

  Happily, his parents agreed with him and even supported his logic. His mother noted that Shakespeare was British, and the British are considered classy. His father could see why a young man should have presentation skills, in case he ever needed to talk to bankers about a business loan.

  Derek and Gabriel auditioned and were delighted when they both received the parts they wanted. They later learned from the director, they were the only male students who’d auditioned for specific parts. The rest didn’t care what parts they received. Many students wrote on their audition forms that they wanted small parts because they didn’t want to learn lots of lines.

  Derek hadn’t given the matter much thought before auditioning, but he soon found that memorizing lines was difficult. But memorization was easy in comparison to the additional but entirely necessary task of interpreting the lines. He couldn’t
just deliver the lines like a warehouse worker, stating which products could be found on specific shelves.

  Over the next few weeks, Derek and Gabriel spent a great deal of time together, practicing their lines for the show. They usually practiced in Gabriel’s room in the Wilson house, which was the attic.

  Harlan and Beth never had children, but Harlan’s brother once spent a few months with them when he was between jobs, and his room had been the attic. The Wilsons were pleased that Gabriel had developed a friendship with their neighbor’s boy and was spending a lot of time with him. It gave Gabriel something to do, so they didn’t have to entertain him.

  One evening, while Derek and Gabriel were practicing their lines, Gabriel said it was time for a snack break. His attic accommodations included a microwave, so he put in a packet of popcorn for them.

  “You never did tell me what your fantasy job would be,” Derek said. “Remember? We were talking on the porch.”

  Gabriel laughed. “Yes, I remember! You said I could get a job eating candy and playing video games, and I said that would be a good fantasy job for a little kid.” The popcorn finished cooking with a merry ding! Gabriel put the popcorn in a bowl and added a little salt. They sat down to eat on the edge of his bed.

  “That’s right. Then you told me, you’d want a fantasy job that was more grown-up,” Derek said. “So what would the grown-up fantasy job be?”

  “Good question! I was surprised because your suggestions were so innocent. Most guys would’ve said a dream job would be smoking pot, drinking beer, and starring in dirty movies.”

  Derek smiled. “I suppose. But I don’t know anything about those things. I haven’t smoked pot, I’ve never had a drink with alcohol in it, and I’ve never had sex.”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. Your parents keep you on a short leash.”

  “Aren’t all parents as strict as mine? I mean, I’m only fifteen years old. How old were you when you first had sex?”