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“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“You’re fantastic at playing over the top. It’s fun to hear this side of you. I think we need to take on more gay assignments where you can go undercover.”

“Oh…shut up,” I replied, keeping my voice low. He laughed again.

My attention was focused on the runway portion of the stage, where I saw the same pageant coach from Lake Tahoe. Again, he was dressed in tight slacks, but wore a form-fitting tank top. He was in stilettos, and I was mesmerized by the way he walked in them, just as I had been before. He had two women with him, and they watched his gait in earnest.

I held back and watched him coach poses, head flips, and fluid turns. He was never strict in how he delivered his critiques, but he didn’t hold back either when one lady couldn’t get a turn right. She kept tripping over herself.

“René, step forward with the left foot first, then your right as you pivot. You keep turning to the right, and that’s what’s throwing you off,” he said. I finally recognized that his accent was Middle Eastern. I took in his coaching, thinking it might help me when I did a drag performance. I knew it couldn’t hurt.

He finished with them a few minutes later, and all three of them walked my way to head backstage. I smiled at the two women as he followed behind them. His eyes caught mine, and I must have had that same smile plastered on my face. He hesitated as soon as he’d passed by, then stopped.

“Ladies, I’ll see you later,” he said with a wave. He gingerly backed up in his stilettos and met my gaze. He wasn’t subtle as his eyes went down my body and back up to my face. “You look familiar.”

There was an audible “Ah, shit,” in my ear, which I ignored. I didn’t need Sean’s commentary when I engaged with people.

“Pardon me?” I deflected, drawing the fingers of my right hand up to my collarbone, acting all surprised.

“I think I remember you backstage at the Miss Nevada pageant. I’m rarely wrong,” he said emphatically.

His approach was direct, and I decided to spin a tale, hopefully to satisfy his curiosity. I hadn’t talked to him in Lake Tahoe, so I could use a campier tone without him questioning the persona.

“I remember you as well. I watched you coach a young woman backstage at that pageant. I knew I was being hired here in San Francisco to do makeup for this event, and, having never worked in the pageant world, I was there to observe how things ran during a show. I was dressed a little more conservatively up there, though.”

“Hmmm, I see,” he said. “And?”

“And?” I quipped, not sure what he was getting at.

“And… what do you think of the pageant world?”

“It’s… interesting. I mean, it is a world within itself. Like theater or ballroom dancing. My focus is on making the ladies look fabulous.” I gestured with my hands as I talked, if only to emphasize my persona.

“I’m Sami. What’s your name, doll?” he asked. Calling me ‘doll’ made me smile, remembering that Veronica always called me that backstage at drag shows.

“GG Devereau,” I replied, extending my hand in a dainty manner. Sami shook it lightly. “If I may, your accent… where are you from?”

He chuckled. “Originally from Egypt, I moved here with my family when I was a teenager. My country doesn’t approve of our kind, if you know what I mean.” He gestured with a limp wrist. “Luckily, my father is a mathematics professor, which made it easy for him to find work in America.”

I knew exactly what he meant when he said, our kind. Being openly gay in some Middle Eastern countries carried severe penalties, even death. And by the ease with which he held himself as a pageant coach, I could understand how his family probably worried about him.

“Well, I’m impressed with how you coach these women,” I said.

“Thank you. I’ve been doing it for a while now. Before the last three pageants held here in the States, I was in Australia and Thailand. I work with women all over the world,” he said. “Although there are some countries I avoid.” He grimaced, and I nodded my understanding. “Well, I have another session with Miss San Diego in fifteen minutes, so I’d better get going to prepare. It was nice to meet you, GG.”

“You, too, Sami,” I replied, watching him head backstage, thinking he’d make a fabulous drag queen given how he carried himself.

I was left alone, standing by the stage. From what I could see, only a few workers were arranging chairs. Looking over the large Ralston Ballroom, set up in a theater configuration, my curiosity got the better of me as I walked toward the runway. It was an impressive room, seating about eight hundred people. There were three raised platforms among the chairs, and I figured they were for cameras since it would be televised by a local TV station.

“What are you doing?” Sean said in my ear. I’d forgotten that Sean heard and saw my conversation with Sami and saw me walk out onto the stage.

I chuckled and dropped back into my normal voice. “I wanted to see what it felt like to stand on a stage this big. My gigs are in clubs or smaller venues. This is impressive.”

“Would you ever consider performing on such a stage?” he asked. His question threw me since I’d never thought about it.

“You know I only do my singing as a side thing, Sean. This would be a little intimidating, I think.”

I had always been confident, but the thought of performing for such a large crowd made my stomach flutter. Sean stayed quiet as I headed upstage to leave the theater. I told him I’d be out soon to join him in the van after I grabbed my backpack.