“Yow!” I said. “This is a family neighborhood. Slow down!”
Sally looked at me from behind reflector shades. “I like speed, man. Speed is good.”
I had my hands braced on the dashboard. “Stop street! Stop street!”
“Stops on a dime,” Sally said, stomping on the brake.
I jerked against the shoulder harness. “Ulk.”
Sally lay an affectionate hand on the steering wheel. “This car is like a total engineering experience.”
“Are you on drugs?”
“No way. Not this early in the day,” Sally said. “What do I look like, a bum?”
He turned onto Hamilton and lead-?footed it to Clip and Curl. He parked and looked at the shop over the tops of his glasses. “Retro.”
Dolly had converted the downstairs part of her two-?story house into a beauty parlor. I'd come here as a little girl to get my bangs cut, and nothing had changed since then. If it was midday or Saturday, the place would be packed. Since it was early morning only two women were under dryers. Myrna Olsen and Doris Zayle.
“Ommigod,” Myrna said, shouting over the noise of the dryer. “I just heard the news about you marrying Joseph Morelli. Congratulations.”
“I always knew you two would get married,” Doris said, pushing the dryer off her head. “You were made for each other.”
“Hey, I didn't know you dudes were married,” Sally said. “Way to go.”
Everyone gaped at Sally. Men didn't come into the Clip and Curl. And Sally pretty much looked like a man today . . . with the possible exceptions of his lip gloss and two-?inch dangly rhinestone earrings.
“This is Sally,” I told them.
“Chill,” Sally said, giving them a rapper fist kind of greeting. “Thought maybe I'd get a manicure. My nails are like trashed.”
They looked confused.
“Sally's a drag queen,” I said.
“Isn't that something,” Myrna said. “Imagine.”
Doris leaned forward. “Do you wear dresses?”
“Mostly skirts,” Sally said. “I'm too long-?waisted for dresses. I don't think they're flattering. Of course, I have a couple gowns. Gowns are different. Everyone looks good in a gown.”
“Being a drag queen must be so glamorous,” Myrna said.
“Yeah, well, it's okay until they start to throw beer bottles at you,” Sally said. “Getting hit with beer bottles is a fucking bummer.”
Dolly examined my hair. “What on earth happened to you? It looks like someone cut big chunks out of your hair.”
“I got egg stuck in it, and it got hard, and it had to get cut out.”
Myrna and Doris rolled their eyes at each other and went back under the dryers.
An hour later Sally and I slid back into the Porsche. Sally had cherry-?red nails, and I looked like Grandma Mazur. I looked at myself in the visor mirror and felt tears pooling behind my eyes. My naturally curly hair was cut short, and perfect Tootsie Roll curls covered my head.
“Massive,” Sally said. “They look like fucking dog turds.”
“You should have told me she was doing this!”
“I couldn't see. I was drying my nails. Excellent manicure.”