“Because I said so.”
I chuckled. “Because that’s an incentive if I ever heard one.” I took the money from where he’d pressed it against my palm. His fingers trailed against my wrist as I pulled away. I grinned at him as I stepped back. His eyes looked hooded and darker than normal. His tongue darted out along his bottom lip.
It did nothing for me.
Absolutely nothing.
Making sure I had his attention, I wadded up the twenty-dollar bill and tossed it at his feet.
His eyes hardened.
His jaw twitched.
I winked at him and moved on.
Paul, Vince, and Kori were watching me with wide eyes, and only then did I realize that the remix was starting to wrap up, which meant I’d been standing cheek to cheek with Darren for at least three minutes. My smile turned razor sharp as I leaned over to kiss Paul on the cheek. “Remember your thirtieth birthday when I pulled you up on stage without you knowing?” I murmured in his ear. “I asked you how pissed you were on a scale of one to ten. Do you remember what you said?”
“Seventy-two,” Paul said.
“That’s right. Good boy. This is worse.”
“Just remember how much I love you,” he said.
“I’ll try to remember that when I’m bathing in your blood.”
“Vicious and descriptive. I like it.”
“This isn’t finished.”
“And now it’s ominous.”
I kissed him again, because even if I wanted him dead, he was my best friend and I loved him so.
I made my way back toward the stage, one of the barbacks handing me a microphone. The music flourished as I posed on stage, a statuesque paragon of sin and majesty. The crowd loved it, as I knew they would. I flipped a switch on the microphone and welcomed everyone to Helena Handbasket’s Debauched and Delicious Revue. I glanced back to where Darren had been standing. His homo jocks were there, but he was gone.
I smiled on.
THE OTHERS were waiting for me on the back patio after I’d completed my wardrobe change, seated in the ridiculous wicker furniture Mike had insisted on getting. I had argued against it. He’d reminded me it was his bar. I had rolled my eyes and told him people most certainly didn’t come to see him. He bought the furniture anyway. He counted it as a victory. I’d told him that nobody won with wicker furniture.
Paul and Vince were gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes when I made my way through the crowd. Kori was staring at them, looking slightly ill, which meant that they were being even more disgustingly cute than normal. I’d tried to warn her when she first came to Tucson, and even regaling her with the tale that was the Love Ballad of Paul and Vince hadn’t really prepared her for the sheer level of sugary fluff that was shoved down her throat.
But that was okay. If anyone deserved something shoved down their throat, it was Paul.
I was happy for him.
Most of the time.
Now was not one of those times.
“You vile betrayer,” I hissed at him, looming over them. I was pretty sure I looked absolutely amazing and intimidating, like an Amazonian drag princess warrior. Or something.
“Helena.” Paul smiled up at me. “You look amazing as always and your show was as perfect as it’s ever been. There was absolutely nothing I would change about it. Also? Your ass looks amazing in that skirt. Is it new?”
Paul knew that a drag queen’s greatest weakness was sincere compliments from the heart. He fought dirty.
“Why thank you,” I said. “The energy just felt good in there tonight, and this old thing? Nah, I just pulled this out of my closet and threw it on. It really isn’t anything special—wait a goddamn minute.”
“Shit,” Paul said. “I thought that would work.”