“Tod found the shoes first, then he made the dress,” Stevie told me.
“I can’t wear this dress,” I whispered to Stevie, “It’s been made for a smal child.”
“It’s stretchy,” Stevie whispered back.
“It’s gonna have to be,” I told him.
It was, it covered everything it was supposed to cover (barely) and even came down to mid-thigh (if I pul ed it hard enough).
Tod did my makeup on a level one half notch down from ful -on drag and Daisy did my hair in the only way she knew how. When I looked at myself, I had four times as much hair as I normal y had. I didn’t look like me, I looked like eye candy in an 80’s rock video.
“How did you do that to my hair?” I asked Daisy.
“Magic, Sugar,” she answered.
Al y and Indy were in the same get-ups. Indy was in green Lycra with a slashed neckline that gave more than a hint of cle**age ( much more). Al y was wearing her own red knit dress, with a turtle neck but no sleeves, a teardrop cut out at her cle**age and it was so short, she wouldn’t be able to bend over for fear of an inadvertent moon.
“My babies! I’m so proud. You look like the Burgundy-ettes,” Tod said, throwing his arms out to encompass us al and then hugging us in turn. His drag name was Burgundy Rose and he looked in danger of proposing a road show.
“We better get going,” Indy said quickly before Tod produced a Tina Turner CD and made us practice doing backup for “Proud Mary”.
Stevie stood at the door.
“Al right girls.” He handed out bags, “I’ve checked, stun guns and tasers are charged, pepper sprays are readily available. Knock ‘em dead.”
Dear Lord.
I took my bag and gave Stevie a kiss on the cheek and we rol ed out to the Mustang. We almost couldn’t fit al of our hair into the car but luckily we were wearing fewer clothes so it balanced out.
“Jet?” Indy asked, turning in the front passenger seat to look at me when Al y started to fol ow the directions Daisy gave her.
“Yeah?”
“What’d you mean about the Smithie’s uniform having a weird power over men?”
I shrugged, then I realized my hair hid my shoulders.
“You heard Vance,” I said by way of explanation.
She kept turned and I could feel her stare in the dark.
“At Blanca’s party, you said Eddie was out of your league. What’s that al about?” Al y asked from the driver’s seat.
Daisy was sitting next to me and I heard the fabric of her dress (ice blue, skintight, ultra-mini-skirt with a v-neck that showed most of her ample cle**age) slide against her seat when she looked at me.
“You think that, Sugar?”
“Wel ,” I said, feeling uncomfortable, “yeah.” Daisy burst out laughing.
I looked in the direction of her hair.
“He’s a cutie pie, that’s for certain, but make no mistake, you two look great together. Phenomenal. He’s al tal , dark and handsome and you’re al blonde, sweet and pretty. The perfect match. Comprende?”
I looked out the window.
“It’s just ‘cause you al like me,” I mumbled.
I wasn’t saying it to fish for compliments, in fact, I didn’t want to be on the subject at al .