Ok, so this update came really fast, but I was almost done with ch 2 when i posted ch1. I have 2 review already though, thanks you guys, i love ya!
Disclaimer:Don'town it... nope still don't... Huh-uh, it's still not mine...
Collins woke late the next morning, feeling that pleasant post-coital calm. He rolled over to put his arm around Angel, but his arm hit the mattress. He opened his eyes. She was not there.
She was over by the closet trying to secure a pair of khakis that belonged to Collins around her slim waist with a belt.
"Angel, what are you doing?" said Collins.
"Trying to find something to wear tonight. All your clothes are too big for me!" She threw the belt to the ground and let the pants slip off her legs, and when they did she threw those on the ground too. And stomped on them. She looked ready to cry.
Collins was intelligent enough to know what this was about.
"You're going to try to play the straight boy." His voice held disappointment.
Angel looked at him pleadingly, her eyes shiny. "Collins—"
"You're being ridiculous," he said sharply. "If you can't go being yourself, you shouldn't go at all."
"I have to," she insisted, digging in the closet.
"If you have to, at least wear your drumming clothes."
"Are you kidding?" she said, turning around. "They make me look homeless. That's the point, you know. The worse you look the more people feel sorry for you and the better your tips. I cannot go looking like a homeless man."
Collins shook his head, getting up and putting on some clothes (which he found scattered all over the bedroom floor). "I'm gonna go make some coffee. Maybe some caffeine will make you come to your senses." He kissed her on the cheek before leaving the bedroom.
Angel felt something that she had not felt in years. She felt like she had to hide herself for protection, fearing rejection.
She dug in the closet for her favorite, lime-green dress and put it on with a pair of white platform heels, trying to make herself feel better. She looked at her reflection in the cheap, full-length mirror that leaned against the wall.
She sighed. "You know you've hit rock bottom when even drag is a drag."
Jason and Andy were the best of friends. They went through good things and bad things and just plain crazy things together for more than six years. But Andy had a secret that he could not tell anyone, especially not Jason. Andy liked boys. He didn't like Jason, not that way. But Jason would be freaked out. He would ditch Andy and leave him feeling more alone than he already did.
Angel did not feel alone now. She had lots of friends and the most amazing boyfriend a queen could ask for. But still… just hearing someone call her by her old name sent horrible shots of her old insecurity flying through her mind.
She gave Collins a bashful smile when she came into the living room. He raised an eyebrow at her.
"Are you done spazing out over this?" he asked, handing her an NYU mug of instant coffee.
She didn't answer. She sipped her coffee. It was barely hot, since it was made with tap water, but it had at least been filled with sugar and powdered cream to hide the cheap taste of instant coffee.
"Angel…."
"What!"
Collins put his hands up in defense. "There's no need to snap at me. I'm just trying to make you see how crazy you're acting."
"You would act crazy too, in my situation."
"Angel—"
"Do you think Mark's clothes would fit me? I bet we're the same size."
"God, don't you have something non-drag you can wear if it matters so goddamned much?" Collins said, rolling his eyes.
"I do, but I don't. It all makes me look gay."
"You ARE gay!"
"Collins, you are not helping!"
She suddenly began to cough, politely covering her mouth even in her anger and stress. She couldn't stop. She leaned against a wall for support, still coughing. Collins' anger dissipated. He rushed to her side holding her up. "Angel, are you alright?"
"I'm… fine," she said when she caught her breath. She cleared her throat, composing herself.
"We'll go over to Mark's," he said, an apology lacing his words. "If it will make you happy, we can go see if Mark has something for you."
"Thank you, Collins," Angel whispered. "We'll go in a bit, I have to sit down for a minute."
Collins nodded. "Ok, baby. Take off those shoes, I'll get you some water. You sure you're ok?"
"Yes. Thank you, baby."
As they climbed the stairs to Mark's loft apartment, Angel and Collins were silent except from an occasional cough from Angel. She looked much better than she had back at the apartment, but Collins was still a little worried.
"Hey!" Mark, his face partially covered by his camera, greeted them when he opened the door. When they came inside, he set it on a tripod in the corner. Angel did some poses in front of it, shortly joined by Collins. They continued with this until they fell into each other, giggling. They could never stay angry at each other for long.
"Damn," Mark said with a grin. "It's been so quiet around here lately, what with Roger living with Mimi."
"I wish we could stay long, Marky," Angel said with a smile, tousling his already messy hair. "But Bond and Pussy are on another mission."
"What sort of mission?"
"I need to borrow some clothes that will help me pass as a straight boy."
Mark was not sure whether laughter would be appropriate or not here. Angel seemed to be serious. He tried to hold it in. "Why?"
Angel explained her "desperately dire" situation, sounding as much drama queen as drag queen.
Mark narrowed his eyes beneath his glasses, not entirely comfortable with what he was hearing. "But, Angel…" he began. "Why do you care what he thinks?"
"That's what I said!" Collins said exasperatedly, throwing his hands into the air.
Angel said, "It's complicated! I don't know why I expected you men to understand!"
Dusk was just falling over Andy's suburban neighborhood. He was home alone, but still he had locked the bathroom door. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, not quite knowing why he had done it. He rubbed his lips, now shiny with deep red lip color and gloss, together, examined the sparkles applied above his eyes. He was unsure now of why he had done this—stolen his older sister's makeup then locked himself in the upstairs bathroom and put it on. It had been an impulsive idea, and he felt guilty now, as though he had just done something terribly disgusting. Quickly he washed it off.
The next day, shame caused Andy to avoid his best friend in the high school halls. Most of it had come off, but every time he looked in the mirror, he spotted a before unseen speck of glitter somewhere on his face. He was just positive that the entire world could see and knew what he had done.
Mark, though his better judgment told him that this was all very wrong, led Angel to the closet where he kept his few clothes.
Angel was sifting through them, muttering under her breath and continuously clearing her throat, when the door burst open and Maureen came storming in, looking ready to kill whatever got in her way.
"Maureen?" Mark said stupidly.
He was answered with a very long, loud stream of profanity, during the course of which Maureen tore off her leather jacket, threw it on the ground and jumped on it violently.
Angel rushed over to her and put her hands on Maureen's shoulders, shushing and comforting. "Maureen, honey, it's ok. Calm down. Shh…."
Slowly, Maureen's screaming waned, and she stood panting, Angel's hands on her shoulders. Then Maureen began to cry. Angel held her tight until she was through.
"That bitch!" she sobbed into Angel's shoulder. "She's terrible, Angel, I hate her!"
"No you don't," Angel said, stroking her blonde hair. "You know perfectly well that you don't mean that."
"Fine, then she hates me!"
"She loves you more than you know."
Maureen sniffed and Angel wiped her tear-stained cheeks. Suddenly Angel began to feel dizzy. But she didn't want to worry Collins. So she led Maureen to the horribly beat-up couch in an effort to mask her own need to sit down.
"Honey," Angel said, "you and Joanne need to show a little more affection. I think you both forget how much you love each other."
"What are you guys doing here?" Maureen asked, changing the subject quite obviously. "I expected to come here and scream at Mark a little to make myself feel better, not to have to look at the most in-love couple in New York while my own fucking love life is hell."
She meant this in the best possible way of course.
Collins scoffed. "We're here to give Angel an anti-makeover."
"Collins, please!" Angel said, trying not to sound to sharp.
Maureen cocked an eyebrow. "Anti-makeover?"
Collins leaned his elbows on the back of the couch, speaking like someone telling a children's story. "Angel doesn't want to be pretty. Angel wants to be a boy. Angel doesn't think she—oh sorry—he is good enough the way he is."
Angel crossed her arms across her chest. She did not think that Collins was trying to hurt her. He wouldn't do that on purpose. But that comment did hurt, because it showed that there were certain things that her lover just couldn't understand.
Every queen was once a confused teenage boy, she thought. Don't you remember how it was back then, Collins? How would you like to be reminded of your torturous years spent in the closet? Or was it always so easy for you that nothing can bring those insecurities back?
She went back over to Mark's clothes in dignified silence. Maybe it was wrong. But this rendezvous was something that she just wanted to get over with as quickly and painlessly as possible so that maybe she could shut out that part of her life for good.
Pretty please with sparkles on top review!