Killer Queen: A Painted Faces Novel (26 page)

“Let’s go home,” she
whispered. “I want to go to your bed. You know, celebrate.”

I pinched her nipple
through the fabric. “Oh, we’re going to my bed, but I’m going to have a taste
of you first, wife.”

Her eyes widened, and
she laughed nervously. “Fuck, I kind of like it when you call me that.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, biting her
lip.

I brought my other hand
up so that I could palm both breasts. Yeah, they definitely did feel bigger. I
realised I was frowning when Fred asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Your tits
feel bigger, that’s all. You were keeping them under lock and key for so long
it seems I’d forgotten them.”

Now she was frowning,
too. Her cheeks blazed red as she looked away and said quietly, “Oh, yeah,
that’s probably the reason.”

I’d expected a sassy
comeback, and the fact I didn’t get one made me curious. I massaged them, and I
knew she was enjoying it, but now she was a fraction less relaxed. In fact, her
body grew more rigid by the second, and there were secrets in her eyes. Over
the past few months, I’d grown accustomed to knowing when she was lying to me,
and this felt like one of those times.

“Out with it,” I
cajoled softly.

“Out with what?”

“With whatever you’re
keeping from me.”

“I’m not keeping
anything from you.”

“Freda.” Her name was a
tender reprimand.

“Oh, Jesus, Nicholas,
we just got engaged. Can we enjoy the moment without ruining it?” she said, a
strain in her voice.

“Why would the moment
be ruined?” I was apprehensive now, and I suddenly remembered the thought I’d
had at Christmas about her being sick. Is that why she proposed? Did she only
want to marry me because she was ill? My gut sank, and it felt like the blood
had drained from my face.

She was silent as I
grabbed her shoulders, looking her dead in the eye. “Are you sick, Fred?”

Her mouth dropped open.
“What?”

“Are you dying? Is that
why you’re proposing? You want to marry me before you go?” Tears clogged my
throat, and I felt like I might vomit. I was being overdramatic, but the
thought of losing her made me that way. Until this moment, I had never realised
just how bad it would be if she were gone. The colour in my life would
disappear again, and I didn’t know if I’d survive the loss of her.

“Say something!” I
demanded, because she was still just wordlessly staring at me.

She swallowed. “I’m not
sick.”

“Don’t lie to me. I
swear, Fred, don’t lie.”

Something seemed snap
inside her as she yelled, “Oh, for crying out loud, Nicholas. I’m not sick, I’m
pregnant!”

For the second time
that night, time seemed to stop. I breathed quickly in and out, eyes flickering
back and forth between hers, wondering if I was hearing things. Neither one of
us had spoken when distant church bells began to ring and celebratory cheering
sounded from all around us. The clock had just struck twelve. A new year had
begun.

A new year had begun. I
was getting married to Fred, and we were having a baby.

She turned and walked
to the other side of the roof, hugging herself in her arms. I stood there,
still trying to comprehend how much my life had changed in the space of a few
short minutes. I didn’t know what to make of it, but then, I suddenly realised
how amazingly wonderful those changes were. How desperately I wanted them.

The woman I loved was
carrying my child inside her. I felt like my every pore was alive as the sheer
happiness of the moment began to fill me. I strode across the roof after Fred
and wrapped my arms around her from behind.

“We’re having a baby,”
I whispered, my lips brushing her ear, and I felt her nod.

“I found out almost two
weeks ago. I didn’t know how to tell you, didn’t know how you’d react,” she
whispered apologetically, and I squeezed her tighter, feeling like I simply
couldn’t get close enough. I wasn’t mad at her for keeping the secret for so
long; I couldn’t be even if I tried, because the feeling of pure, undiluted joy
was overriding everything else.

I turned her now so
that she was facing me, and cupped her face in my hands. “Look at me, Fred.
This is how I’m reacting. I’ve never felt happier, never felt more whole in my
life. Never.”

She blinked, and a tear
ran down her face. “I’ve been so frightened. I so fiercely wanted you to want
this baby as much as I do. That’s when I came up with the idea of proposing. I
thought that if you said yes to marrying me, then you wouldn’t hate the idea of
a baby.”

“How the fuck could I
ever hate the idea of our child, Fred?” I swore. “You’re my whole bloody
world.”

Her eyes became all
soft and melty at my words, and her body sank into mine. All of the previous
rigidity was gone. “It was that night at the shop, you know, when you got home
from London.”

I allowed my hand to
run down her body until it reached her stomach, and then I started to rub. “Ah,
so the little one was conceived on a baking counter.”

Fred laughed softly.
“It certainly brings new meaning to the term
bun in the oven
.”

I laughed, too, and it
was full of joy. My rubbing turned to caressing, and then something very primal
and possessive came over me. I adored the fact that she was carrying my child,
and I wanted to claim every inch of her all over again. My hand sneaked beneath
her dress and straight to her waiting flesh. She moaned when my fingers met her
soft, aching core. She really had been feeling my absence these past two weeks.

“Happy New Year,” I
murmured as I sank two fingers inside her and sucked her earlobe into my mouth.

“Happy New Year,” she
replied, all raspy.

The sounds of revelry
and celebration still washed over us as we had our own private celebration on
that rooftop. I made love to her then, in the cold, under the stars, and we
were so hot for each other that we barely felt a chill.

March 9
^th
,
2013.

Soundtrack: “Your Song” by Elton John.

We got married in City Hall. I refused
to think of it as a shotgun wedding, because there was certainly nobody holding
a gun to my head. I wanted to marry Fred more than I wanted to take my next
breath. She hadn’t cared where we tied the knot, so long as we were surrounded
by family and friends. However, when we announced our engagement, Phil almost
went into a frenzy and insisted we let him plan the whole thing. We agreed, and
before I knew it, a date was set and invites were going out to friends from all
over the world. Friends I hadn’t seen in years.

Phil was my best man,
and Sean, Harry, and Dave (Linda Lovely) were my groomsmen. As you might guess,
I didn’t get any sexy strippers for my stag night. Instead, I was brought to a
Madonna tribute show and then whisked off to a tattoo parlour. At least they
hadn’t hired any male strippers, so it wasn’t all bad.

When I arrived for the
ceremony with Phil and the officiant greeted us, I thought he looked a little
bit pale. It made me want to smile. I guess he hadn’t expected half the male
attendees to be decked out in fancier dresses than most of the women there.

What could I say? I’d
been performing for a long time, and the majority of the friends I’d
accumulated over the years were in the same profession as I was. And if you
knew anything about drag queens, you’d know that any excuse for a new frock and
a fancy hat was going to be snapped right up like a Gucci purse in the January
sales.

Fred had sent me a text
message the night before, coyly requesting that I wear some guyliner to the
ceremony because she thought it would be sexy. I’d texted back, telling her she
needed to stop trying to relive her Jared Leto phase through me. I’d chuckled
to myself, imagining her pouty look at my response, but if I was going to be
all Nicholas at least one day of my life, this was it. My tux had been tailor
made, and I thought I looked quite dashing, even if I did say so myself.

Fred was just over
three months pregnant. She didn’t have a proper bump yet, but one of my newest
pastimes was laying my head on her belly and talking to our unborn child. Fred
would shoot me cynical looks, and it was funny because I was turning out to have
more maternal instincts than she was. I supposed it was fitting that I would be
the mother figure and she the father figure in our little family.

I couldn’t believe that
this time last year I was at my lowest ebb, and now it felt like I had
everything I ever wanted. I had a family and a place in the world. I didn’t
know what I’d done to deserve it.

I hadn’t seen her dress
yet, and I was dying to know what sort of style she’d gone for. I had visions
of her caramel hair flowing over white lace, and a grin spread wide across my
face.

“Look at you,” Phil
said, nudging me in the side as we stood waiting for the ceremony to begin. His
voice was a touch emotional. “I feel like my little boy is all grown up.”

I raised an eyebrow and
smiled. “What? Did you have me when you were nine?”

“Oh, shush, it’s a
figure of speech.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed
beneath his eyes. I took his other hand and squeezed it for a moment, giving
him a look that held all the gratitude in the world. We both knew that if it
hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t be here right now.

When the string quartet
started up with a beautiful rendition of “Your Song” by Elton John, my heart
thumped in my chest. This was it. The bridesmaids and groomsmen began to file
in. First it was Harry and Nora, followed by Annie and Sean, and finally Fred’s
sister Eileen and Dave, who had come as Linda Lovely. Eileen seemed oddly
delighted to be escorted by a drag queen, and it made me recognise the
similarities between her and Fred for a moment.

I inhaled deeply when
Fred came into view, her arm through her father’s. Her curly hair had been
styled in a number of intricate braids with flowers woven throughout. It was an
up-do, but with a bunch of curls hanging down her left shoulder. Her dress was
ivory with an empire waistline, silk on the bottom and lace on top, showing a
subtle but seductive hint of cleavage. Whoever had done her makeup had kept it
natural, with a hint of golden eye shadow to bring out the vibrant colour of
her eyes.

She was beautiful, and
I was speechless at the sight of her.

When she caught my
eyes, she gave me a big smile that said,
Would you look at us, all fancy
,
and then tipped her imaginary hat to me. I chuckled quietly, eager for her to
reach me. I already couldn’t wait for us to be announced man and wife just so I
could kiss her. She’d been staying at her parents’ for the last three days,
trying to abide by the rule of not seeing one another before the wedding.

Bill handed her off to
me. He was keeping a stiff upper lip, but I thought I saw a touch of emotion
shine in his eyes to be giving his youngest daughter away.

“You look incredible,”
I told her, my gaze drinking her in.

She leaned forward and
whispered jokingly, “I went for ivory. Nora said white would be hypocritical.”

Yeah, that sounded
exactly like something Nora would say. “The dress is perfect.”

The officiant started
the ceremony then, but I hardly heard a word he said. I didn’t think Fred had,
either. We both gazed at one another the entire time, unable to stop grinning
like a pair of loved-up fools. Before I knew it, we were saying our vows, and
the officiant was announcing us husband and wife. He hadn’t even finished
saying it when I pulled Fred close, savouring the feel of her softness against
me, and then my mouth was on hers. What started out as a slow, romantic kiss
turned hungry. I was willing to bet she’d missed me in the run-up to this
wedding.

Cheers and hooting rang
out, and then Fred was drawing away from me, her chest rising and falling as
she laughed. “Viv! My parents are only a couple of feet away. Do you want to
give them both heart attacks?”

I ignored her comment
and ran my fingers down her face. “I can’t believe you’re my wife,” I
whispered, and she sucked in a breath.

“I can’t believe you’re
my husband,” she answered back.

I was vaguely aware of
people snapping pictures, but really, all of my attention was for her right
then. The reception was being held at The Glamour Patch, and I knew that Phil
had gone all out. Because the club was just across the bridge from City Hall,
we had decided to forgo fancy limos and town cars in favour of walking. It was
a good thing my wife had chosen to wear flats. Despite how much I enjoyed the
sight of her legs in a pair of heels, I didn’t think she’d ever looked more
perfect.

Fred and I led the way,
hand in hand, as a ragtag bunch of drag queens, artists, friends, and family
walked through the city in a trail of colourful frocks and fancy hats. We
certainly turned a few heads. A couple of friends of mine who were in a ukulele
band strode alongside us playing an acoustic rendition of “Three Little Birds”
by Bob Marley. The photographer Phil had hired was taking pictures along the
way, too.