The noise from the crowd coming over the balcony was growing louder, meaning everyone was gathering around the dance floor and stage, waiting for me. We were a bit behind schedule, but it was fine. I drew in the crowds. The other little queens that performed in my show were good (after all, I demanded only the best), but I was the reason the people were gathered downstairs. Of course, that was my ego talking, but I’d worked hard to get where I was, and one could not be a queen if one was not full of themselves while also being full of shit. I was my greatest supporter, but I was also my biggest critic. I was hard on myself, which is why I was so good.
I was fiddling with the wig when Charlie spoke. “Paul’s right, you know.”
“Of course he is,” I said without thinking. Then, “About what?”
“The Darren thing.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What Darren thing?”
“Honey.” He looked up from his camera. “I don’t take any bullshit from anyone, least of all you. You might be a queen—hell, you might even be the Queen—but I will smack that ass if you should even think of sassing me.”
I stalked toward him, rolling my hips with every step I took. He grinned at me, that sweet old-man smile that caused his whole face to wrinkle adorably. Well, it would’ve been adorable had he not been spouting crap from his mouth. I ran my hand along his shoulder, scratching my fingernails into the back of his neck gently in the way I knew he loved. My big puppy. “Why would I need him when you’re all the man I need?”
He sighed. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I’m not going to be around forever.” He patted my hand as it dug into his shoulder. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of after I’m gone.”
I refused to allow the lump in my throat to grow any bigger. “You told me nothing was wrong.” And he had. I’d driven him to his doctor’s appointment just last week, and he’d told me that aside from hypertension (which had always been a problem), he was healthy as a horse. An aging leather cart horse, but a horse nonetheless.
“And that was the truth,” he said. “But I’m not getting any younger, Helena. I’m not going to be around forever.”
“You will,” I insisted. “I already am making plans to sell my soul in exchange for your immortality. You’re not going anywhere for a long, long time. I won’t allow it. And now that I’ve said something nice, who the hell do you think you are, saying I need someone to take care of me? I’m fucking Helena Handbasket, you motherfucker. I can take care of myself.”
He smiled quietly. “I know you can. But can you blame an old man who wants you to have something I never did?”
And that hurt, more than I thought it would. After Charlie had come out, the fallout had been rather devastating. His ex-wife had shamed him publicly and poisoned his kids against him. He’d never cheated on her, not even once, though the temptation was surely there, but he finally got tired of living a lie. And even though she took almost everything from him, Charlie was never one to begrudge his ex, saying that it was his fault he’d gone through with the marriage to begin with. That was just who he was.
And after he’d come out, he hadn’t been completely free of guilt, but his conscience was clearer and his heart wasn’t as heavy. He took every phone call from his kids, even when they called to berate him. As it was now, he hadn’t heard from them in a couple of years. He had grandchildren he’d never met. His ex-wife had died a decade before.
He never settled down again. Said it wasn’t his lot in life. Not anymore.
The hypocritical bastard. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“And what would that be?” he asked with an aura of innocence that any normal person would have fallen for. But I was most decidedly not normal and could see right through the façade.
“You’re trying to play the old-man card,” I said. “Sympathy and all that bullshit. But I won’t fall for it, Charles Danvers, I really will not.”
“Dammit,” he muttered. “I even practiced looking sad and pathetic in the mirror.”
“You planned this?” I said incredulously. “Oh my god, you evil manipulator! I adore you.” I leaned in and gave him a sticky kiss on his cheek.
“Learned from the best.” He winked at me. “But if you think you’ve heard the last of this, you’ve got another think coming. I already dealt with Paul, who is more neurotic than a pygmy goat with PTSD. You’re going to be a cakewalk, Helena.”
I frowned. “Wait. Why would a pygmy goat have—”
“So you may as well just give in now,” he said, overriding me. “Because come hell or high water, you’ll admit it.”
“There’s nothing to admit,” I snapped at him. “Darren Mayne is a fucking dick and I want absolutely nothing to do with him.”
“Why do you hate him so much?” he asked.
I had my reasons. Ones that might be petty, but they were still my reasons. I hadn’t shared them with anyone, not even Paul. It was too fucking embarrassing and it was my deal, not theirs. It didn’t matter, anyway. Darren didn’t even remember, or if he did, he just didn’t care. He lived to antagonize me. I lived to make him suffer.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, trying to sound bored. “He is a nonentity to me.”
“Huh,” Charlie said. “That’s odd. Well, tomorrow is sure to be embarrassing, then. Yikes.”