He shakes his head.
“We don’t. I can since being on my cameras won’t be strange. Maybe one or two of the guys, since they frequent, but new faces? No way with my security. Unless we can hack the feed and loop it.” Shit!
The only one with that type of hacking knowledge is Tank.
I rack my brain trying to figure out a way to be on premises without drawing and suspicion. I’m pulling at my hair when Twister snorts.
“Ask Haven if we can borrow her best friend.” Corvin?
“What do you have in mind?” He grins.
“A drag queen fuck up.”
20
JOEL
“No, no. no. More hip, less butt. Like this.” Corvin sashays down the hall like it’s a runway as I adjust my cock so I don’t forget I have one.
“Hey, Joel. Smile!” Haven calls my way as she snaps a photo of us all dressed in drag.
Twister’s master plan depends on a distraction of epic proportions.
Pantheon hosts a drag show every third Thursday of the month. We’re banking on the current group renting the place not knowing the date, and us playing up the fact that we fucked up the dates.
We just need to keep them occupied long enough to get inside to speak to the owner, which is Flick, of course, about the mix-up. But we have to sell it. We can’t just show up in bad makeup. These are professional queens, so Corvin is running us through everything like it’s speed dating.
“We’re running out of time here!” The auction is starting in less than an hour, and we have to be at Pantheon’s door right at midnight.
“Cinderella cannot be late,” I say under my breath, and the guys lose their shit cause I’m the one who fits that description.
“I can’t work like this.” Corvin throws his hands up dramatically, and Bars copies his movements and tone.
“Perfect. I think we’re ready.” Corvin claps and takes one more look at us.
“Alright, everyone on board.” Haven moves to a stretch Hummer limo and opens the door.
She’s dressed as a chauffeur, and my dick hasn’t gone down since she got here with an armful of dresses and a smirk that would rival any cat with a canary joke I could ever possibly make.
“Can you wear that to bed later?” I ask as I go to climb into the limo.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m a claimed woman.” I roll my eyes at my men cat-calling and whistling at us.
“Shut the fuck up and look in a mirror, assholes.” I flip my wig over my shoulder and fix my dress before crossing my feet at my ankles like a lady, just like Corvin taught us.
“Excellent!” he calls over to me, then wrinkles his nose at the others.
“We’ve got the car ride to fix your posture.” He pokes at Bars, who surprisingly looks like his twin sister in the get-up.
“Yeah, I know. I look like Anabelle. Shut it.” I chuckle as the limo starts to move.
We all grow quiet as we approach the nightclub whose parking lot is packed. The doors are roped off, and we can see the private security hired for this special event are all packing guns. Our outfits only allowed for Bars and Screw to carry firepower. The rest of us all have knives hidden on our bodies.
Only one of us needs to get inside, and that’s Twister, who’s posing as our manager.
He’s dressed to kill in a suit that cost more than my first car.
“You good?” I ask him, and all I get is a nod.
