“Dammit.” Morgan sighed, his bingo card still completely empty in front of him. “I never have any luck at bingo. I swear, it’s some kind of curse.”
“Have you ever come to drag bingo before?” I asked.
“Oh. No.” Morgan shook his head. “I talked about it a few times with Taylor and Avery, but it was always too hard to get everyone’s schedules to line up. Plus, The Femme Fox has better drinks and better music, anyway.”
“Still. It’s good to expand your horizons.”
“Yeah, if those horizons include losing at bingo.” Morgan chuckled before he glanced over at my bingo card. “What the hell? You’re almost at bingo, already?”
I looked down at my card, noticing that I almost had a full bingo right down the line. The only letter I was missing was G—
“G58!” the drag queen called out. “Check your cards for G58! And please, God, let someone have bingo so I can finally take a break!”
“Bingo!” I shouted, placing the final chip on my card. I raised my hand in the air as I waited for someone to come over to verify the win.
“Yes! We have a winner! My prayers have been answered!” The drag queen beamed before she walked right over to my table.
It hadn’t occurred to me that she’d be the one to check the cards, too, although I didn’t mind. She seemed to be taking her job seriously, even if she’d spent the majority of her time cracking jokes for the crowd, and she meticulously looked over my card again and again.
She then excitedly clapped me on the back before she said, “Congratulations, honey! Are you ready for your prize?”
“What’s the prize?” I asked.
But instead of coming from the drag queen, the answer came from the crowd.
“Makeover! Makeover! Makeover!” The crowd chanted in unison, each repetition of the word getting louder and louder. “Makeover! Makeover! Makeover!”
“You heard it here first, honey.” The drag queen smiled as she motioned for me to follow behind her. “Come on. Let’s get you to the back. And you can bring your little boyfriend, too.”
She turned to look at Morgan before she continued, “And after the show, you have to tell me where you got that outfit because I’m loving it, girlfriend.”
After that, she walked away from the table as if she was certain we were already following behind her.
Morgan and I exchanged a quick look before we rose up from the table and headed for the back of the restaurant.
“Oh, honey. Those eyes.” The drag queen scoffed as she gently brushed eyeshadow against my eyelid. “If I had eyes like that, boys would be falling all over themselves to get to me. How do you handle all that attention?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really notice it.”
“Ha!” She chuckled before she took a step back from me. “Well, you might not notice it, but I bet your boyfriend does. Right, boyfriend?”
“Oh, I’m not his boyfriend,” Morgan casually replied as he looked over at me. “Oh, wow.”
“Wow what?” I asked, my nerves showing through my voice.
“You just look so… different.” Morgan smiled. “I don’t know. I’m just used to you looking more—”
“Using the word ‘manly’ around me is a slur,” the drag queen joked. “And you shouldn’t be so selfish about your not-boyfriend being the pretty one in the situationship for once. Maybe he likes it.”
The drag queen reached for what looked like a nail kit before she scooted her chair closer to mine. She took my hand into her own as she brought a file up to my fingernails. “Don’t move, honey. Just give me a few minutes to buff up your nails, and you’ll be the prettiest thing in this restaurant tonight.”
I followed her instructions, remaining perfectly still as she worked on my nails. And I stayed just as quiet when she eventually changed hands, seeming to expertly buff those nails, too. I briefly wondered if she owned a nail shop of some sort, or if she’d just naturally reached the same skill level as a professional, due to her chosen line of work.
“Okay, now, go look,” she instructed me before she looked over at Morgan. “Not-boyfriend, go with him to the bathroom, please. We don’t want anyone trying to hit on this cutie while he’s checking on his makeup.”
“Uh, actually, is there a way for me to see myself? Without going back out there?” I asked. “I just don’t know if I’d be comfortable with people seeing me—”
“Of course, honey,” the drag queen replied as she stood up from her chair. She handed me a mirror that was almost as big as a small TV screen.
I took the mirror in my hand, and the drag queen started to head for the door. “You two can figure out whether you think you look good or not. Oh, and may I also recommend figuring out a label for your relationship, while you’re at it?”
“We’re not in a relationship—” Morgan started.
But the drag queen held up a hand, cutting Morgan off. “Listen, honey. I’ve been on this godforsaken rock long enough to know when two people are fucking. And you two? Definitely fucking. Now, if you want to keep on pretending like it doesn’t mean anything, that’s on you. But one day, those chickens are going to come home to roost and one of you is going to get your little heart broken.” She let out a hearty laugh as she pulled open the door. “You baby gays kill me with your commitment to being non-committal. You’re killing me!”
“Did she just call me a baby gay?” Morgan asked when the drag queen was out of the room. “But… I’m in my thirties…”
I smiled at Morgan’s observation as I looked at myself in the mirror.
I didn’t like it.
I could tell that the drag queen knew her way around a makeup palette, but there was something off-putting about seeing myself like this. I didn’t like the way the eyeliner winged out. I didn’t like the way whatever she’d put on my lips was making them seem more puffed out than usual. And I didn’t like the way my nails seemed to shine underneath the light of the room.
“Do you like it?” Morgan asked, his voice quiet.
“No,” I admitted. “Is that bad?”
“Why would it be bad?”
“I don’t know. I just kind of feel like an asshole,” I replied. “She did a really good job, and I’m sure a lot of guys in the restaurant would’ve been happy with it. I just don’t think it works for me.” I grimaced before I went on. “Am I being an asshole about this?”
Morgan smiled down at me, reaching for a box of tissues on a nearby table. He used a tissue to wipe away at the makeup on my skin. “You’re not an asshole for being yourself, Harrison. And honestly? I didn’t think it’d work for you either. No offense, but you’re less of a makeup guy and more of a—”
“Don’t forget that ‘manly’ is a slur,” I repeated the drag queen’s joke.
Morgan laughed. He then bent down closer to me and murmured, “You’re more of a manly guy. And I like you just the way you are.”
Morgan continued to clean the makeup off my face, and something warmed in my chest as I kept my eyes on him.