Fourth Comings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [50]
“Right. Well, it was my high school she wrote about, and me and my friends in particular.”
All but my sister gasped. “Omigod!”
“Anyway, it turned out not to be much of a big deal because the book sucked and the movie they made it into sucked even harder. So Cinthia was there to read from that book.”
“What was the name of the book again?” Bethany asked.
“Bubblegum Bimbos and Assembly-Line Meatballers. And as I said, it really sucked. Perfect for Shit Lit. So the master of ceremonies is this cult hero of the downtown demimonde known only as Homo Hitler. He looks exactly like der Führer, only his Nazi uniform is a lovely shade of lavender and his swastikas are striped with queer-friendly rainbows.”
“No way!” they all cried.
“Yes way,” I replied. “And he flits around the stage and lisps, ‘Sieg heil, bitches!’”
The MILFs gasped with laughter, then formed an even tighter circle around me, pressing me for more details.
“So I’m sitting at the same table as my friend Cinthia and a few others. Homo Hitler introduces her, and she gets up on the stage to thunderous applause. Her seat doesn’t remain vacant for long because it’s a packed house. I look to my left, and this towering drag queen has swooped down and taken the spot beside me in a whirl of sequins and feathers. He extends his manly, manicured hand and introduces himself in this super-deep voice that doesn’t sound female at all.”
“Royalle G. Biv!” My sister can’t help herself
“And I take his hand and tell him my name. And then Royalle booms, ‘You are a darling!’ And I roll my eyes. Then he’s like, ‘How many times have you heard that line, right?’ And I tell him that I’ve heard it many, many times before, but never from a man wearing a sequined evening gown. And he goes, ‘Well, dearheart, there’s a first time for EV-ER-RAY-THANG!’”
I notice that my sister lip-synched EV-ER-RAY-THANG.
“Then Royalle winks at me, no small feat considering each individual false eyelash is the length of a swizzle stick.”
This got some giggles.
“Royalle does not make an attractive woman. If she were a woman, she’d be the most hideous woman I’ve ever seen, one who could file a class action lawsuit against the ugly stick.”
Dierdre and Meredith laugh first; my sister and Liesl quickly follow.
“My friend Cinthia is doing the intro to her reading, explaining how the book was published when she was eighteen and how there was avid speculation as to the authenticity of the work—”
“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Meredith said.
“—and how she wishes she could lay the blame elsewhere, but she has to confess that this faux ghetto affront to the written word was hers, all hers. And the only fitting way to atone for her literary transgressions was to read them out loud….”
I was kind of losing them. They wanted more of Royalle.
“Okay, so just as she starts to read, I feel this huge hand on my knee. And I, like, totally launch myself out of my chair, I’m so shocked. And I shoot a look at good ol’ Royalle, who is, like, puckering his overdrawn, red, waxy clown lips in my direction.
And before I could continue, my story was interrupted by uterus-curling shrieks (“MOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”) coming from the playroom. Without a word, all four MILFs made a mad dash downstairs to find out who was the unhappy source of the sound.
thirty-two
You were with me that night. That is, until you had the Shit Lit Hissy Fit and bolted. I only told them half the story, but here’s the other half, the part you missed:
After you stormed out, Royalle asked me if he was to blame for your hasty exit.
“I was only fooling around, dearheart!” Royalle boomed.
“I know that, and so does he,” I said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Why aren’t you going after him?”
“Because this is what it’s all about. This is why people come to New York City. It’s just this quintessentially bizarre New York experience….”
“Whatever do you mean, dearheart?”
“This,” I said, gesturing around the room. “You,” I said, pointing at him/her. “Getting hit on by a drag