Page 105
“Fuck you both,” Wynn said. “Can’t wait to see you guys, and we’re looking forward to hearing Jonesy sing tonight. And the four of us are still on for brunch tomorrow.”
I lowered my voice. “Jonesy admitted he’s a little nervous, but that means he’ll do great.”
“He always does great.” He looked away from the screen briefly. “Anyway, we see our bags on the carousel. We’ll see you later.” I waved goodbye, and he ended the call.
I remembered calling Wynn shortly after we’d caught Oliver. Wynn had that specter over his head for years, knowing Oliver was still out there, even though Oliver’s nephew had been incarcerated for the crime. He’d finally found closure.
“Howler…I need your help,” Jonesy called from down the hall.
I headed into one of the spare bedrooms and was met with an assault of glitz and sequins strewn across the bed. My attention was drawn to my husband flipping through racks of gowns and outfits in the large closet. When we’d bought a house together, I knew he’d want a dedicated space to keep his array of drag outfits and wigs, and having a third bedroom gave him that luxury. But seeing the plethora of fabric in front of me, I was perplexed.
“What’s with the pile of gowns, babe?” I asked, giving Jonesy the once-over. I almost broke into a fit of laughter, seeing him in full makeup, wearing a silk robe, and frantically pushing hangers of gowns to the side. It immediately made me think of Nathan Lane’s character in The Birdcage.
“I can’t find that black cocktail dress for my look tonight. Can you follow behind me and rummage through this fucking mess and help me find it?”
I discovered that when Jonesy prepped for a performance as Onyx, his nerves got the best of him. Not always, but I knew he hadn’t done drag in a while, so I understood his exasperation.
No sooner had I come in to help, parting the hangers on one side of the closet, than I noticed the black cocktail dress he wore a few years ago on stage. “Is this the one?” I asked, holding it up with my arm extended.
“Of course, you’d find it right away, Mr. Private Eye,” he replied with a roll of his eyes.
“It is kinda what I do,” I snickered. I walked up to him with the gown, which he snatched from my hand. “Are you really that nervous for tonight?”
He hesitated before admitting, “Yes. And thank you for finding this.” He slipped it off the hanger and draped it over his arm.
“Babe, you’ve done these gigs numerous times. We’re gonna be at a gathering with mainly our friends and colleagues. No one will judge your performance. You’ll do great and everyone will love you.”
“That’s what makes it even more nerve-racking. Singing in front of people I know messes with my head a little.”
“You always do better when you’ve got butterflies,” I replied reassuringly.
“Feels more like a herd of elephants in my gut.”
“I get it. Just think of it as another nightclub show.”
He nodded, and when he went to walk past me, I grabbed his arm. “Hey, you’ll do great. Positive thoughts,” I whispered. Leaning in, I gave him a quick kiss on his temple.
He let out a sigh, then turned to give me an air-kiss so as not to ruin his makeup.
When we arrived early at the Summers’ estate, Jonesy greeted our hosts and excused himself to change out of his sweats and into his outfit. Erika Summers followed up their grand staircase to help him get ready.
“I thought I heard a familiar voice,” I heard Wynn say as he came down the stairs with Eli on his heels.
“Get over here, bestie,” I said excitedly. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed my best friend until his arms wrapped around me. When we finally let go and stepped back, Eli extended his hand. I batted it away, pulling him in as well. He let out a grunt at my forwardness, but he hugged me back.
“We just passed Jonesy with my mother escorting him upstairs. It still cracks me up how tightly my mother clings to him. He fascinates her,” Wynn said with a chuckle.
“He fascinates me as well,” I replied in agreement.
Over the next hour, more guests arrived. The caterers were working their way through the growing crowd, with trays of champagne and canapés, and at one point I walked into the kitchen to see Andrew and Javier arranging platters of hors d'oeuvres.
“Hey, you two,” I said, walking up behind them. “This stuff looks and tastes awesome.”
“This stuff, as you call it, took a week of menu planning, you cretin,” Andrew said, his voice laced with humor. The Summers had hired Andrew and Javier for past functions, and I was happy that our friendly clan had expanded to include Wynn’s parents.
“Jonesy should perform soon. Don’t miss it,” I said, grabbing a mini quiche off a newly refreshed tray.
I estimated the party had about fifty guests, and I hoped the size of the room would help Jonesy relax once he began his set. I saw his shoulders loosen a little as soon as he went to the DJ to go over his music selections. Standing back, I watched the love of my life mingle with the guests as they arrived, finally seeming more at ease.
