“That never happens inDrag Race, and it’s an ugly stereotype, and furthermore, my theory of storytelling—”
“The wig has to have some sort of significance to the plot?”Fox asked.
Ladies and gentlemen, these are my friends.
“You can tell me later,” Bobby said, squeezing my knee.
Which was exactly why I loved him.
Birthday Beginning
This story takes place beforeBy the Book.
1
Keme was trying to play Xbox.
Tryingwas the key word.
Maybe my favorite word.
“And then—” I said.
Keme groaned and tapped the controller more furiously.If it was possible to block out sound through sheer effort, he looked like he was doing his best—and like he was about to give himself a hernia.
“—I’ll probably get a tattoo a PS5.Because it’s better than an Xbox.”
“The PS5 is garbage.”
On the TV, a polite—and slightly frantic-sounding—robot was asking for help.
“I think that robot needs help,” I told Keme.
“She’s not a robot,” he said.
He was playing a game calledOverwatch, which had, like, a million different characters, and they all had different abilities, and it was shockingly expensive every time a new season came out and Bobby and I had to pony up, and the truly outrageous part was that Keme wouldn’t let me be in his guild or clan or whatever it was called because one time—one time—I got trapped inside my own force field.
I was about to follow up on that comment, since that robot definitely sounded like a robot, but Keme began to tap-tap-tap the controller like it was trying to get away from him.On the screen, there were a lot of explosions, and Keme said something that Bobby had said one time when he’d been trying to mow the grass and the lawnmower refused to start.
“Did you die?”I asked.
Keme didn’t respond.
“Probably because you didn’t help that robot,” I suggested.
“She’s not a—” Apparently being dead—and waiting to respawn—offered him enough of an opportunity to glare at me, because he fixed me with a pair of death rays.“Shouldn’t you be writing?”
“I’m stuck on a scene.”
“Go be stuck somewhere else.”
“Remember that PS5 tattoo I told you about?”I said.“I’m going to get it on my pec.”
“You don’t have pecs.”
I scrambled into a sitting position.“Keme!Rude!”
“And you’re not going to get a tattoo because you made Indira hold your hand the last time you had to get a flu shot.”
