Dragged to the Wedding(4)
Under normal circumstances, Lala would return to the dressing room, change clothes, remove makeup, and quietly leave by the stage door, joining the people on the sidewalk as they hurried home or to their final stop of the night. But not tonight. Lala removed her jewels and slipped off the shoes she’d worn onstage, perching on the edge of the sofa against the dressing room wall and leaning back.
A knock announced the visitors, and then the door opened, with the other ladies entering to talk and discuss the performance. They came in still dressed but without wigs—and in some cases shoes, because the damned things hurt. Lala knew that beauty was a process—painful and a great deal of work.
“I think we were fabulous,” Candy Cain said in her usual bright tone. Sometimes Candy was too perky for words.
Lala sighed, and Bella Fontaine glared before going in for the verbal kill. “Honey, you need to work on your timing, and tomorrow you’re going to be here two hours early so we can go over the ‘It’s Raining Men’ number,” Bella said. “You were all over the place, and if you step on my feet one more time, you’re going to get a high kick and take a flying leap off the stage.” The staredown was priceless, and Lala was pleased to keep quiet. “All you gotta do is count. Looking pretty isn’t enough.”
“Don’t be bitchy with me, Miss Cellulite City.” Candy glared right back.
Lala cleared her throat, and both of them quieted instantly. Being the queen did have its advantages. “Candy, you need the help. And, Bella, your pirouette looks more like a dying bird. I think you could both use some work. Tomorrow we’ll all be here early to make the number perfect and ready for when the place reopens after the renovations.”
A knock paused the chatter of protest from all of them. “I got...” Carmen began.
“We all know what you got tomorrow, Carmen. Your weekly checkin at the clap clinic,” Candy interrupted, and the group snickered.
“Enough,” Lala snapped. “I’m tired of the bitchiness and the sniping. The reading room is closed, and I have some real visitors. Now get out, go home, and get some beauty sleep. You all need it.” Lala smiled, and each of the others kissed her cheek and got a hug in return. No matter what was said or done, Lala’s rule number one was that they were sisters and the camp stopped at the dressing room door.
They filed out, and Lala lowered her gaze as Officer James cautiously entered the room like he was checking it for weapons. Lala stood and embraced Randy tightly when he followed.
“Great show, lovely, and the vocals...amazing.” Randy could gush with the best of them. “You were spectacular. Wasn’t she, James?”
James didn’t seem to know what to say, but finally he smiled. “I will admit that I’ve never heard a Doris Day song with BDSM lyrics before.”
“Thank you, darling.” Lala stepped closer and presented her cheek. James actually kissed it, and Lala’s heart beat a little faster, just like earlier in the theater. And holy hell, James had intense eyes that sparkled in the makeup lights from around the mirror. What Lala could do with those cheekbones. The urge was almost too much to keep from fanning herself. On top of that, as he leaned forward, the light cologne gave way to a deep, musky, heavy scent that sent a zing of heat through her. If the aroma of James could be bottled, Lala felt she would never need to work again. “Please sit down.”
Motioning to a single chair, Lala made herself a little more comfortable. James turned to Randy and stepped back.
“No, honey, you and I need to talk. Randy is going to step out and find something or someone to amuse himself.” The long day was quickly taking its toll.
Randy snickered and tossed James his set of keys. “I have a date with Creamy Sugar tonight, and I’ll make my way home eventually.”
Lala knew Randy’s look and decided to bring out the claws. She wagged a single finger in his direction. “You treat her right. That one has had more than her share of heartache. If you hurt her, I’ll see to it that you sing a hell of a lot higher than I do.”
Randy coughed. “Understood, sweetheart. My balls are safe, I assure you.” He was at least two shades paler, as he should be.
“See to it they stay that way.” Lala flashed him her best warning glare, and Randy left the room, silently closing the door.
Lala took close stock of James as he tried not to fidget in the chair. “Let’s talk.” Lala stood, taking off the wig, setting it on the stand. Next came the zipper on the dress. “I know Randy and I played a little trick on you earlier.” Daniel dropped the affectations and spoke as himself.
“You certainly did,” James agreed and cleared his throat. “Do you really think you can do this for six days?”
Daniel slipped out of the dress, hanging it up, watching James watch him as more and more of his boy-self emerged from the trappings of his onstage persona. “I have been doing this all my life.” He paused, hands going right to his hips. “I was sixteen the first time I did drag. My mother found me in one of her dresses and full makeup. She told my dad. They had hissy fits worthy of Candy and Bella fighting over Benedict Cumberbatch.”
James’s lips curled upward and his eyes warmed. Damn, Daniel loved a man who could smile at him like that—perfect teeth, with those small lines that went almost all the way to his eyes. Genuine and warmer than Daniel would have expected.