“You’d better protect my Ashleyfor me,” he added as I shook his hand, distracted by bright red nails thatmatched the corset and were filed to points.
I’d seen that on women.
I kind of liked the way theyscratched my back up, and that wasnota thought I needed to be havingright now.
“Is he, umm. Your boyfriend,or…?”
Gabe burst into peals ofbright, high-pitched laughter.
Not Ashley’s boyfriend,then. I was starting to wonder if Ashley even existed. Maybe I was beingpranked?
This didn’t feel like Gray’sstyle of prank, but…
“Drag mom,” Peter corrected.“You might know me as Amanda Whip.”
Oh.Oh.
“You’re drag queens,” Isaid, the last piece of the puzzle finally settling into place. “I’m so sorry,I… had no idea.”
Gabe raised one glitteredeyebrow.
“Well I figured there wassomethinggoing on here,” I defended. “Just…cut me some slack, I’m a boring straight man.”
“Figures.” Gabe sighed. “Allthe hot ones are.”
“You’re engaged,” Petersaid. “And you take every opportunity to remind the rest of us.”
“I’m still allowed to look.”
“Guys,” I interrupted. “Oruh. Ladies?”
“Only when the wigs are on,”Martin said. “It’s… you’ll get used to it.”
Somehow, I doubted that. ButI had a job to do, and I was still determined to do it.
Even if this was so faroutside my wheelhouse it was on another planet.
“You think maybe someonecould point me to Ashley? Give me a general direction and a description?”
Gabe chuckled. “About yourheight. Stupidly soft chestnut hair. Great ass.”
Peter’s dreamy sighseemed to confirm thatgreat asswas a shared opinion.
“Not helpful,” I said. Iliked a nice ass as much as the next person, but recognizing a guy I’d nevermet by his ass seemed unlikely.
“Come on.” Gabe looped hisarm around mine, dragging me off in the direction Peter had come from. “I’lltake you.”
“Paws off,” Martin calledafter us. “He’s Ashley’s.”
Gabe snorted, leading meinto the back of the club where fluorescent lights illuminated dull graybrickwork, lined with doors. A few of the doors had gold stars on them, theuniversal symbol for dressing rooms.
This was familiar, at least.
“He’s a sweetheart,” Gabesaid, pausing in front of one of the gold-starred doors. “Youhaveto take care ofhim, okay? Promise me.”
“I promise,” I said. “That’smy job. I haven’t had anything happen to a client yet.”
Don’t ask me howlong I’ve been doing this, don’t ask me how long I’ve been doing this.
