Raylan_ A Novel - Elmore Leonard [79]
“Del, you’re quite tall.”
“But I want him to know it’s me that second he recognizes my stature and I shoot him in the head. Last thing he’s thinkin about. Kennet, what’s the last thing goes through a bug’s head he hits the windshield? The bug’s ass. I’m goin down to South America or someplace after. Once I stick up a bank for travel money. Or get some chicks to do it. You know why it worked with chicks? Nobody ever seen it before.”
“Delroy, listen to me. It didn’t work. You’re wanted on sight for murder. You’ll be caught and go to prison. Your next jolt will be life, at best, without parole. You know what Raylan Givens is famous for?”
“Drinkin shine?”
“Shooting people.”
“Sneaks up on ’em, like he done me, and gets the drop. See, this time I’m puttin on the show. I know my moves leading to shootin the motherfucker in the head. I tip my hat to the crowd and walk out the saloon.”
“And then you go to South America or someplace.”
“I been thinkin of Haiwaiya.”
“Delroy, Crazy Night at the Two Keys, some of the students go a little nuts and wear nutty outfits. Or sorority girls come as hula dancers. One time I heard, Playboy bunnies.”
“I’m gonna wear my hat.”
“Throw the fucking hat away. You have to wear something so he won’t know you.”
“You see me dressin like a bunny?”
“That’s not bad,” Kenneth said, a fingertip touching his lips. “Not a bunny, but some kind of . . . awfully tall broad in a dazzling frock. Or . . . I don’t know, something else.”
“Man, tall chicks rub up to me all the time. Know I’m lookin for one don’t get lost in my embrace.”
“I see you as statuesque, a fucking knockout from La Cage aux Folles, a tall, bawdy bimbo.”
“You see me wearin a dress?”
“A frock of some kind.”
“What do I do for tits?”
“Come on over while I’m thinking about it.”
He realized he may have to shave Delroy’s entire body, but decided not to mention it.
“I’m trying to think of what we have here at the Cooz besides G-strings. I’ll look around. Delroy? I’ll get Bobby over to do the makeup. All the black drag queens love him. Bobby’ll give you smoky eyes with long lashes you can flutter at Raylan.”
“What do I do for tits?”
“If Bobby want you to show cleavage you’ll have it.”
“I was thinkin,” Delroy said, “I could be a Arab. Cover myself with a sheet.”
“No, you want the exotic RuPaul look.”
Delroy said, “Kennet, where do I keep my piece?”
It was always something with the big boy.
“That’s right,” Kenneth said, “you’ll need your gun, won’t you?”
Two and a half hours later, from the time Bobby arrived with his suitcase of makeup and armloads of dresses he’d borrowed from friends—“Costumes, really, from two of the most popular drag queens in town,” Bobby said—to Delroy looking at himself in the full-length mirror in Kenneth’s bedroom, both Bobby and Kenneth waiting for Delroy’s reaction.
“He’s still awfully tall for a girl,” Kenneth said, “but he looks delicious. I love the rich pouty lips with the lighter skin tone, the eyelashes . . . Delroy, bat your eyes for us. Give us a flutter.”
Bobby said in a murmur, “He doesn’t know what you mean.”
Delroy was staring at his long, slim figure in the mirror, turning his head from side to side appraising himself.
Bobby, his hand over his mouth this time, said to Kenneth, “He hasn’t said a word. You know he does have quite a sexy figure. I was afraid he might be all angles.”
“I’m wondering,” Kenneth said, “if a simpler dress without the distracting sequins might work better. It’s awfully busy. But, I have to say, I love it. Delroy in the sky with diamonds.”
“It’s short,” Bobby said, “but his knees aren’t bad, are they? You like the earrings? I love the way they swing when he turns his head. The pumps, I’m sorry to say, are the largest size of sling-backs I could find.”
“His feet do look like they might burst out,” Kenneth said, “but I don’t know what else we can do. He can’t wear his own shoes, and his sandals are much too gauche with the frock. But who’s looking at his feet? Delroy, what do you think?”
“I look like a homasexual.”
“You’re a cross-dresser,” Kenneth