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I snorted. “Nothing,” I said before my held-back snicker erupted into a fit of laughter.

“Hey…it’s a look,” he said defiantly.

“Babe, you look great for tonight. Your outfit just hit me funny as you approached the car,” I said, holding both hands up in surrender and keeping my laughter in check.

“I wanted to go Donna Summer retro, as I said earlier. This was her video look in 1979. I plan to use She Works Hard for the Money as the follow-up song.”

I waved my hand up and down in front of him. “Well, what you’ve done fits the bill, babe. You’ll look amazing once your look is complete. I’m sure the guys will be floored by it and your voice tonight,” I said sincerely.

He looked at me with a skeptical side-eye, probably thinking I was blowing smoke. “I just want to pull this off… and for the fundraiser to be a success.”

“I’m sure it will be. I won’t say anything to the guys before you hit the stage. I have a feeling Bryce will interrogate me at the table. He may be a photographer, but he still works in TV news,” I said, starting the car.

Jonesy pulled down his visor to check his makeup. “What all did you do today once you got home?” he asked, pressing a finger on the edge of an eyelash that could be mistaken for a bushy caterpillar.

“Oh, shit. Did you turn the news on by chance?”

“No, why?” he asked, popping the visor up.

“I turned on the end of the baseball game, and the news came on. Remember I told you about the cheating husband whose wife hired me?” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “It seems Raymond Chandler was the unfortunate victim of an automobile accident yesterday. His car went off into a ravine near Glen Canyon Park.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jonesy looking at me. “What the fuck? That seems sketchy after you talked to his wife the day before, right?” he replied with a pinched brow.

“I thought so too. I plan to call her in the next day or so to see how she’s doing. It’ll be interesting if her tone triggers my suspicions any further.”

“I’ll look into the police report this week and see what’s been investigated.”

We made it to Beaux Nightclub in about twenty minutes, giving Jonesy plenty of time to get ready. I let him out, and he made his way around the club to the back entrance, where most performers enter. I parked the car and went to the front. The youth center representatives were in full prep mode, placing flyers on cocktail tables and hanging banners and posters before the crowd made its way in.

I figured I’d be the first to arrive from our group. The show didn’t start until nine o’clock, so I went to the bar to order a drink and some water before finding our table. Luckily, Gavin, the nightclub’s manager, was behind the bar, so I asked which table was ours. When he pointed it out, I took my drinks over to sit.

With time to kill, I pulled out my phone, checking a news app to see if there’d been any further developments about Raymond Chandler’s accident. There hadn’t. The more I thought about it, the more my suspicions grew. I needed to talk to Brooke.

Pushing that thought away, I looked at my calendar and figured the best use of my time to help Jonesy would be to head back to Lake Tahoe by myself and see if Chet had gotten anywhere with the missing pageant woman. I couldn’t find any news articles online about it, so the pageant was keeping it under wraps. I wasn’t sure how long that would last. Distraught parents had a way of disclosing things if they felt the authorities weren’t moving fast enough to solve the case.

A few patrons walked in as I sat there, claiming unreserved seats to get the best view of the show. After a few minutes, Andrew and Bryce arrived, followed by Marcus and Tony. We all ordered drinks and chatted, watching the nightclub fill up.

True to form, Bryce used his best interrogation techniques to find out what Jonesy had planned for his performance. I laughed at his tenacity but held firm, keeping Onyx’s performance a secret. Ten minutes before the curtain rose, Jason and Javier showed up; none of us were surprised since they were always the last to arrive.

The president of the LGBTQ+ Youth Center took center stage and thanked everyone for attending and for the generous donations they hoped to receive. After his spiel, he pointed out the QR codes on the posters and flyers for donations. I quickly scanned the code and had my friends do the same. I was happy to send the casino’s winnings to a worthy cause.

The show started with a few queens lip-syncing their best numbers, drawing loud applause and cheers. The guys were having a good time, and Tony even handed one of the queens a five-dollar bill as a tip. After she’d finished, the stage went dark.

Then the familiar beats of Donna Summer’s Bad Girls filled the nightclub.

15

JONESY

I’d performed the numbers countless times. “Why the fuck am I so nervous tonight?” I thought as I settled the long, wavy black wig on my head. Perhaps it was because all my friends were out there tonight, and it was a fundraiser—an important one. It had been some time since I’d done a drag performance, so that could be another reason. I’d always held my drag performances to a high standard, especially since I sang rather than lip-synced.

“Five minutes, Onyx,” the stage manager said as he passed the dressing room.

My stomach flipped, and I took a few deep breaths to calm myself, then gave my face another look to make sure the makeup was perfect. It took me longer, and I was glad I had done most of it at home.

“Doll, you look amazing,” Veronica Lay-Me said, stepping out from behind the costume rack. Veronica was a legend in San Francisco's drag circles and delivered an impeccable Cher routine that always brought the house down. She was going to follow my act.

“Thanks, love,” I replied, adjusting my purple off-the-shoulder top. “I’m assuming you’re doing the retro Cher set tonight?” I asked, standing to fix the tuck job I’d done before arriving at the nightclub. It always felt uncomfortable, especially with my size.