Darling - K. Ancrum Page 0,41

flat irons, blow dryers, bows, clips, giant fake flowers, and even a glue gun. The drag queen nearest the door was nearly completely dressed, except for a strip of eyelashes that lay limp in her hand as she stared at the three girls. The queen next to the first one had a full face of makeup on, lashes and all, but was only dressed from the waist down. Her muscular chest contrasted interestingly with a gingham skirt and tights, while the rest of her costume hung on a hanger hooked to the back of her chair. There was a queen next to the wardrobe, in the throes of gluing feathers to the sides of her face with wig glue. She was in a full flesh-colored unitard with padding beneath it. Her tights were absolutely stunning, dotted with iridescent feathers starting mid-thigh and fading to tight clusters at her ankles, which were tucked neatly beneath the table. There were also queens wearing what looked like the restaurant’s waitress uniform, getting undressed and putting their street clothes back on.

Charles, Fyodor, Minsu, Waatese, Curly, Nibs, and Peter were all crowded in the center of the dressing room, having a dramatic conversation while the drag queens watched in irritation.

As the three girls joined the boys, the drag queen in the gingham dress hissed, “Oh great, more children. This isn’t a day care center!”

Peter, who looked a little worse for wear, with ashes on his cheeks and his bright eyes shining with manic energy, was saying, “You’ll have to stay here until they leave.”

Ominotago, not nearly as starstruck as Wendy, pushed through the boys until she was standing directly in front of Peter and staring him down fiercely. “Tell me what’s going on. Now,” she demanded.

Peter narrowed his eyes to slits and didn’t answer her. Instead, his eyes trailed over Tinkerbelle and landed on Wendy. “Nice to know you made it, Darling. I see you’ve met my other ex, Ominotago.”

Unlike Tinkerbelle, Ominotago didn’t even flinch. Her hands were already curled into fists, and her body was angled to keep Tinkerbelle and Wendy behind her protectively. Charles, Waatese, and Minsu, who were standing behind Peter, looked at him in open disgust.

“Detective Hook is here,” Curly answered Ominotago, breaking the tension. “He’s asking for permission to search the restaurant, but management isn’t letting him ruin their dinner service without a warrant.”

“Sounds like a problem, but you’re not staying in here,” the queen in the gingham dress snapped. “You’re lucky Bella even opened the door for you.”

Peter said nothing, but turned around and snatched a box of makeup wipes off the vanity. He began briskly rubbing the ash off his face, arms, and hands.

“Those were mine, but you’re welcome to them,” the queen who was holding her lashes said sarcastically as Peter nearly emptied the entire box.

When Peter was finished, he grabbed a comb from the vanity and began fixing his hair. “Detective Hook can’t get in for a search, but if he buys something, he can get in as a customer and he will walk around. So. Everyone who wasn’t detained by police can come into the restaurant and sit at my table.” He painstakingly put himself to rights. “Everyone else, find somewhere else to hide. I’m friends with the head chef, so you guys can probably slip into the kitchen.”

Peter did something bafflingly swift with his hand without reaching into his jacket at all, and suddenly he was holding a business card. He gave it to Fyodor, who took it gingerly from Peter like it was a cursed object.

“The chef’s name is Joe,” Peter said. “Give him this, and he’ll let you go into the pantry.”

“How do you know this man?” Fyodor asked suspiciously.

Peter grinned at the opportunity to show off. “I know everyone who is worth knowing in this city.” Wendy noticed, for the very first time, how sharp his eyeteeth were. Peter turned his back on Fyodor, clearly finished speaking to him. Fyodor joined Charles, Minsu, and Waatese in looking at Peter’s back in disgust, but he, Waatese, Charles, and Minsu left the dressing room.

Now it was just the queens, Peter, Nibs, Curly, Ominotago, Tinkerbelle, and Wendy. Ominotago watched, arms crossed, as Peter picked up a compact, daubed a fingertip in some concealer—also belonging to the queen holding her eyelashes—and patted it beneath his eyes until he looked as fresh as when Wendy had met him.

“Tinkerbelle,” Peter said, “you can come with me, Nibs, and Curly if you want. Om—”

Ominotago interrupted him. “You don’t