Killer Queen: A Painted Faces Novel (25 page)

I smiled at her fondly.
She’d really loved it when I sang that song at the club on Halloween. A lot of
people told me I’d creeped them out, which was kind of the intention and I think
what Fred liked about it so much.

“Well, I’d love to come
and see you perform sometime. Now that I’m single again, I want to make the
most of it. Are there many eligible bachelors at the club where you perform?”

I made brief eye
contact with Fred, whose face was contorted with the effort of holding in too
many jokes.

“You could say that,” I
answered.

“That’s it, then. I
have to go. When’s your next gig?”

Fred cleared her
throat. “I really don’t think it’d be your scene, Eileen.”

“What? Because I’m too
old?” she scoffed. “Forty is the new thirty, I’ll have you know.”

“It’s got nothing to do
with your age. It’s more a case of you not having the right equipment.”

“Now you’re being
stupid. What are you talking about?”

Fred let out a long
sigh. “Nicholas works in a gay bar, so unless you’re thinking of going for a
sex change, you’re shit out of luck.”

Bill shifted
uncomfortably in his seat, and Pam eyed me with surprise, coughing a little on
the potatoes she’d just swallowed.

“A gay bar?” Eileen
asked, looking at me curiously. “Really?”

I nodded. “It’s true.”

Under normal
circumstances, I had no reservations in telling people about my profession, but
these were Fred’s parents, and I didn’t want them to dislike me. Fred must have
been in the mood to shock her family, because she didn’t hold back on the
details. “He’s a female impersonator.”

I rubbed my neck
uncomfortably.

“Oh!” said Pam. “Like
one of those…what do you call them? Drag queens? Like Lily Savage?”

“That’s right,” Fred
told her, turning to give me an encouraging smile. I really wished she would
have given me a little heads-up that she was going to tell them. It’s not that
I minded, because it was probably for the best to get it out there, but it
would have been nice to have some time to prepare.

“I thought it was only
queer fellas who did that sort of thing,” Bill added, frowning. He didn’t
appear to be angry, though, which was good.

“Predominantly, yes,” I
replied breezily. “I’m something of a rare bird in that sense.”

“So you’re not
bisexual, then?” Eileen questioned, sipping on her wine again. I didn’t get a
judgmental vibe from her, which relaxed me a little. She actually seemed
excited.

I glanced at Fred,
smiling fondly. “Do you know, this conversation reminds me of the one we had
the first time you came to see me perform. You were full of questions.”

“We Wilsons don’t hold
back with the questions,” she said before turning to her sister. “And no, he’s
not bisexual, Eileen. Nosy.”

“I was only curious,”
Eileen said, defending herself. “And I still want to come to the club. I’ve
never been to a gay bar before.”

“I’d like to go, too,”
said Pam, surprising everyone. “I’ve always loved Lily Savage. Oh, and Dame
Edna!”

Fred laughed loudly.
“Oh, my God, this is going to be classic. Next thing you know, Dad will want to
come as well.”

Bill glanced at her and
the edges of his mouth twitched. Well, this was something. He was trying not to
smile. I began to wonder if Fred took more after her father than her mother. He
picked up a napkin and dabbed at his lips. “I think I’ll let you girls go and
enjoy yourselves. You wouldn’t want an old fuddy duddy like me dulling the
mood.”

“That’s not possible,
Dad. If anything, your presence will make us cooler. The gays love an older
man.”

Bill gave her a fond
yet embarrassed smile, and then Eileen began telling everyone about the online
dating site she’d just signed up to. Some strange sense of relief and
contentment came over me. Fred’s family hadn’t thought me strange. In fact,
they’d taken the news of my profession with little more than a backward glance.
I felt accepted in the most unexpected place.

As the conversation
washed over us, Fred took my hand in hers beneath the table and squeezed. When
I looked at her, she gave me an expression that was full of love, and in that
moment I could tell she knew just how much her family’s acceptance meant to me.

December 31
^st
,
2012.

Soundtrack: “Viva La Vida” by Coldplay

New Year’s Eve at The Glamour Patch was
certainly an occasion. I wasn’t there in a working capacity; Phil had booked a
very popular drag queen he knew from San Francisco to come do a show, and it
was sold out. The whole place had been decorated with banners and streamers in
silver and gold, with a large glittering rainbow banner hung across the stage.

Fred wore a beautiful
purple dress I’d bought for her as a Christmas gift. I got a perverse pleasure
out of dolling her up, but I knew she’d much rather be in something comfy. It
clung to her curves in a way that was simply delicious. I was dressed in a navy
Hugo Boss suit with a white shirt and a slim blue tie. Fred was practically
drooling when she caught sight of me. Every time I saw her checking me out, it
gave me a little boost. And I was in need of one, because although Christmas
dinner at her parents’ house had been a success, there was still something
going on with her. It had been five days, and every time I tried to talk to
her, ask her what was wrong, she’d shut down and make an excuse about being
stressed for the opening of her shop.

We arrived at the club
about an hour earlier, and I got swept up chatting with some friends. It took
me a while to realise that Fred had disappeared. I vaguely wondered where she’d
gotten to, but I presumed Phil had roped her into helping him with something.
For the past two days he’d been flitting around the place, stressed out to the
max over New Year’s. He wanted everything to go perfectly.

There were only thirty
minutes left before midnight, and Fred still hadn’t appeared. I was just about
to begin looking for her when I felt her soft fingers slide into mine. She was
behind me, leaning close to murmur in my ear.

“Come with me, Viv.”

Silently, I allowed her
to lead me to the back of the club to a narrow staircase at the end of a
corridor. I’d never been in this part of the building before because it only
housed a few storage closets. Fred led me up four flights of stairs until we
reached the roof. The club was housed in an old Georgian building that had been
gutted many times over the years, so the only part of it that could be dated
back to the original structure was the outer brickwork. The roof was flat and
made of grey concrete, with old sooty chimneys. It was high enough that it gave
a decent view over the nearby rooftops and reminded me of the “Chim Chim
Cheree” scene in
Mary Poppins
.

There was something
appealing about the entire setting; it gave off a sort of Dickensian vibe.

Somebody had hung fairy
lights all around the edge of the building, making it magical with a touch of
old-timey decay. A table was set up with a chilled bottle of champagne,
glasses, and a bowl of strawberries. Fred stopped and turned to face me, biting
anxiously on her lower lip. I was smiling widely because it was clear she’d
planned this whole romantic interlude. She must have wanted us to welcome in
the New Year in private. It would be our first, after all.

I was touched that
she’d gone to all this trouble.

She opened her mouth to
speak, but before she could get a word out, I clutched her face in my hands and
pulled her to me for a slow, seductive kiss. Her body melted into mine, but she
drew away before I could sink my tongue inside her mouth.

“This is amazing,
Freda,” I breathed. “I love it.”

She gave me a small,
unsure smile. “I’m glad.”

I frowned and brought
my hands to her hips, massaging them. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling well? You
look pale.”

Instead of answering,
she pulled back a little and began to get down on one knee. I raised an
eyebrow, I’ll admit, wondering if she planned on giving me head or something. I
wouldn’t have protested, but it was a bit too cold out for that sort of thing.

My thoughts were cut
short when she reached inside her clutch bag and retrieved a small black velvet
box. For a split second, I was confused. But then, when I realised what she was
about to do, emotion clutched at my chest, and I found it difficult to breathe
for a moment. Disbelief filled me. She stared up at me, and although the noise
from all the nearby parties was surrounding us, it felt like we were trapped in
a bubble of absolute silence. Suspended in time. I swallowed, my eyes growing
watery, because I couldn’t believe she was doing this.

I was supposed to be
the one to do it; it was tradition, but for some bizarre reason, this felt
right.

Christ, I loved her so
fucking much. Only Fred would think to do something like this.

“Darling,” I whispered
as she opened the box with a shaky hand to reveal a beautiful white gold band
carved with a Celtic design. “You don’t have to do this.”

She squeezed her eyes
closed. “Shut up, Nicholas, just shut up for a second.”

“Fred,” I said, and a
soft, emotional laugh escaped me. “Just say what you wanted to say.” I didn’t
know why, but all of a sudden I was desperate for her to speak the words.

“I will. I just need a
minute.”

“Isn’t your knee
hurting, kneeling on the ground like that?” I went on with a grin.

She sighed and allowed
her face to drop against my thigh. “You’re fucking loving this, aren’t you?”
she grumbled, but there was a smile in her voice.

“Of course I am! It’s
not every day a girl gets proposed to by the most eligible cupcake baker in
town.”

Laughter overtook her
then. “I’m a disaster.”

“You’re perfect,” I
said. “Is this why you’ve been acting so strange lately?”

She nodded, her face
still pressed into my thigh. “Obviously. I’m been shitting a brick.”

“Ah, how romantic,” I
teased.

She slapped my leg.
“Shut up!”

“Are you worried about
what my answer will be?” I smirked, and brushed a hand affectionately over her
hair.

“Hell, yes! You know I
don’t handle rejection well.”

“You had better ask me
and see, then, hadn’t you.”

She drew in a sharp
breath, levelling her beautiful eyes on me. They shone in the dim light. “Viv,
I know I’m a loud-mouthed, snarky, difficult little bitch, but would you do me
the honour of becoming my husband?” she said, her words coming out in one long
tumble.

“You really know how to
pull off the art of self-deprecating while proposing, Freda,” I replied before
pulling her up to her feet and wrapping my arms around her tight. I nipped at
her lips then, my voice a low rumble. “And yes, I’ll marry you. I fucking love
you to the end of the world and back.”

Tears began to run down
her face, but she was laughing at the same time. “Oh, God. You said yes. Now I
have to deal with a wedding. Yeah. That’s happening. I think I need a drink.”

I grinned. “I know.
Imagine if we both turned up wearing the same dress. Now,
that
would be
embarrassing.”

She slapped me again,
still crying tears of happiness. “Nicholas, be serious for a minute. Are you
sure you want this? I mean, my hair gets in everything, I’m constantly saying
the wrong thing, and I’ll probably feed you too many cupcakes and make you
fat.”

“That’s not a negative,
Fred. I’ve always aspired to be fappy.”

She gave me a quizzical
look. “Fappy?”

“Fat plus happy equals
fappy. It’s an illness prevalent among those quite comfortably and smugly in
love.”

Shaking her head, she
took the ring from the box and then lifted my hand, sliding the band onto my
finger. “You like?”

“I adore it. It’s
perfect. Now we have to go out and get you one.”

“Ha-ha! Oh, yes, better
get your credit card ready, Viv. I want a diamond — a big, massive diamond the
size of somebody’s eyeball,” she joked, and led me over to the champagne, which
I saw on the label was nonalcoholic.

“Care for some
champers?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a
glass,” I replied, and she poured. Picking up a strawberry, I bit into it and
allowed some of the juice to run down my lip on purpose. Then, quite slowly, I
licked it away and emitted a low groan. “Delicious.”

Her eyes were glued to
my mouth, and the champagne overflowed the glass a little.

“Shit,” she swore,
putting down the bottle and the glass. I took a step closer to her and grabbed
her hand, which was now soaked in champagne. Bringing her finger to my mouth, I
sucked it between my lips, murmuring, “Yum.”

Her chest began to
heave. It had been over a week since we’d fucked, and she’d obviously started
to feel it. She shivered, and I lifted her easily onto the table, the champagne
and strawberries long forgotten. Holding her chin, I brought her mouth to mine and
kissed her, all slow and wet. My hand moved up her body until it found her
breast and kneaded. It felt even bigger than usual because I hadn’t had the
opportunity to pay attention to it in a while. Fred sighed and strained against
me.