Jennie
Usually in my personal outings, I opted to go incognito. Normal-sized sunglasses. A bag that didn't scream "I'm very, very expensive." An SUV as opposed to the Porsche or a chauffeured limo. But this was not just any outing.
This was Drag Queen Brunch.
Mordecai's Bistro on Las Palmas Boulevard hosted a weekly brunch with the best drag queen entertainers and servers in the business. The Bluewater Billionaires—or vagillionaires, as Nayeon called us—picked one Sunday a month and never missed it.
I made my entrance five minutes late in designer cut-offs, a blousy white top, and red wedge sandals. My sunglasses were enormous. My jewelry tasteful but eye-catching. My hair, short voluminous perfection.
Chu, Chaeyoung, and Nayeon were huddled in one of the black leather horseshoe-shaped booths along the back wall, no doubt gossiping about my overnight guest.
"Ladies," I said, sliding in next to Chu, who, despite the day of the week, was wearing one of her impeccable suits.
"Your hair!" Chaeyoung breathed, fluttering her hands in front of her face like she was short on oxygen. The dozen bracelets on her wrists jingled. "I can't even."
"You motherfucking badass," Nayeon screeched. She was wearing a silk pajama romper and what looked like six-figures' worth of jewelry. In reality, she was the motherfucking badass.
I tucked my sunglasses into my bag, and Chu leaned into my personal space. "What's with the smug face?" she demanded.
"I can't be smug about a haircut?" I asked innocently.
Chu eyed me suspiciously, then sniffed. "I smell Lisa Manoban."
I picked up my menu, the picture of innocence. "Lisa cut it for me," I said casually. "Oh, look! They brought back the Bloody Mary bar."
Nayeon reached across the table and snatched the menu out of my hand.
"Someone you are allegedly having a scorching hot affair with gave you this badass cut?" she demanded.
"It's not so alleged anymore," I said.
"I really, really want to hate you right now." Chu sighed, dissolving against the booth cushion.
"You just need to stop working so much and get laid," I said knowledgeably.
"I definitely hate you," Nayeon decided.
"What we're all trying to say is that we're so happy to see you finally expressing yourself sexually," Chaeyoung said diplomatically.
"I've expressed myself sexually before," I scoffed.
"Babe, you strutted in here with an orgasm count tattooed on your forehead," Nayeon said. "That's a freakin' first."
"Tell us everything," Chu insisted. "Be generous with your details."
"I saw the pics from that gala Friday night," Nayeon said, emptying her champagne flute. "You looked divine. Everyone was too busy predicting wedding dates and pregnancy announcements to talk about that Junhoe Koo garbage."
"Your hair is so fucking fabulous I'm literally going to die." Lady Raquel was our favorite server at Mordecai's. She was six-feet-five in her favorite silver sparkle platforms. Today, her hair was Marilyn Monroe platinum with turquoise and purple highlights that perfectly matched the mermaid scale bodysuit and cape. She wore a three-inch thick faux diamond choker and chandelier earrings that weighed as much as barbells.
I fluffed my hair. Compliments on hair or makeup from a drag queen were serious business. "Thank you, Lady Raquel."
"You didn't compliment me on my pink extensions, Lady Raquel," Nayeon complained.
"Oh, honey. That's because they looked like C-list club wear. I expect more from you," Raquel said, flashing Nayeon an imperious look from under her spider leg eyelashes. "Now, who's ready for a round of drinks?"
We ordered and settled in for the standard catch-up. Even living in the same neighborhood on the same fallopian tube, our schedules were busy enough we sometimes got our news from gossip blogs and headlines.
DQBs were spent dispelling fiction from fact.
Chaeyoung filled us in on her latest dating escapades. She was sugary sweet beneath her flawless vegan exterior. But being busy and constantly on brand, she always seemed to attract six-packed, hemp-wearing yoga and surf instructors with names like Kale.
Chu gave us the non-specifics about a new government contract she'd landed. And Nayeon told us about the yacht flotilla she was joining for a long weekend in the Bahamas.
"Enough about my fabulous single life," Nayeon said. "Tell us more about Sexy Pants Manoban."
Ruby DeeLicious, a petite queen in a rainbow corset and fishnet stockings, led a group of women to the open table next to us.
"They're here," Chaeyoung hissed in delight.
There were three reasons we liked Mordecai's. One, the omelets were perfection. Two, Lady Raquel and company were too fabulous for words. Three, the romance novelists.
Three women strolled past the table in the midst of a number of different conversations. The first, in turquoise glasses, was nearly bouncing out of her own skin. "So then, I was like of course a blow job is the answer!" she yelped at two times the appropriate decibel.
The next woman was taller and dressed in pajama pants that were in desperate need of laundering. She was swearing at her phone. "I told the kids that if they didn't stop farting in each other's faces I was going to take their Legos. Now they're texting me sad selfies promising a fart-free weekend."
"Don't fall for it," the third woman advised. She was wearing a Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death t-shirt. "They mean it now, but they're just going to get hopped up on cereal, and all good judgment goes out the window."
"How have you survived homeschooling?" The first woman asked.
"My kids are abnormally good. Like we're actually concerned. Now, back to the blow job…"
They slid into the booth next to us, and we pretended not to eavesdrop on every word.
"Where's my favorite?" I asked in a low voice. "I hope she's not on deadline again."
"Agh! Sorry I'm late. Apparently, I don't know how clocks work." Another woman still wearing sunglasses bounded up to the booth. Her sweaty workout tank was on inside out. She was pawing through her bag. "I think I lost my phone again."
"It's in your hand," the first one pointed out.
"I'm so happy right now," Chaeyoung sighed.
"Shh!" Nayeon hissed. "I want to find out what happens to Salvio in book five."
The night after we met six years ago, our hungover foursome had stumbled into Mordecai's seeking sustenance and the hair of the dog. What we'd discovered was a kinship and four romance novelists in the next booth.
At first, we thought we were overhearing a murder plot.
"So then I thought, 'Okay, maybe I can just stab him to death.' You know? Like really violent because he deserves it, right?"
"Totally. He's a dirtbag, and everyone is going to agree with that."
"But then I was like, 'How can there be sex immediately after this super violent stabbing.'"
"Good point. That would be a little sociopathic."
"But if I kill him in a funny, light-hearted way—like say he's run over by a bratwurst truck—then…"
"Blow jobs for everyone!"
Chaeyoung and I had wondered if we should call the police.
Nayeon was more interested in who they were murdering because he sounded like a guy she dated once, and according to her, he totally deserved to be murdered.
Meanwhile, Chu had snuck a photo of the booth's occupants and ran an image search.
And that's how we discovered they were contemporary romance novelists in the midst of plotting out a project.
Ever since, we'd been occupying the booth next to them, reading their books, and eavesdropping on their conversations.
We'd never shared more than polite nods over menus or in the restroom. I don't think any of us wanted to ruin the mystique. But there was something about eight women, living their best lives, downing pitchers of Bloody Marys, and sharing stories that reassured me that the world could be a very good place.
"Dammit. They're talking about grocery delivery," Nayeon sighed. "I need to find out if Salvio is going to freak out when he finds out his twin brother accidentally married his crush in Vegas."
"I wish I could write love stories," Chaeyoung sighed.
"It sounds like Jennie's living one," Chu pointed out.
"We're not in love. We're in lust. It's very healthy and full of boundaries and explicit expectations."
"Mmm, explicit," Nayeon said, wiggling on the bench seat.
"What's going to happen with the board?" Chu asked. "They're not going to be pleased that the fixer they hired is now spending a good amount of her time keeping you in bed."
I winced. "It was supposed to be a ploy. Give them something shinier and sexier to talk about than a near-arrest. And we got carried away."
Nayeon clapped. "It's about damn time Jennie Kim got carried away with something besides reams of data and business reports."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm hoping that the ploy part of it deflects from all the rumors surrounding my little fainting spell."
My friends shared a telling look. I could only imagine the headlines I was avoiding. Jennie Kim's overdose. Jennie Kim's secret baby. Or worse, the truth: Jennie Kim too weak to carry the mantle of the company she built.
But I didn't need to waste my time worrying about public opinion. That's what Lisa was for. That and aggressive orgasming.
"So let me tell you about Lisa's shower guest and her unprepared ass," I said, changing the subject before the mood could falter.
"You went up the butt on her?" Chu's mouth formed a perfect O.
"I don't care who you are. That's hot," Nayeon said.
"Anal play can lead to a new level of vulnerability in relationships," Chaeyoung added helpfully.
"Oh, it wasn't me. It was Brutus."
Lady Raquel breezed by and dropped another pitcher of Bloody Marys on the table. She gave a glittery wink.
The novelists next-door erupted into giggles over a sex scene gone bad.
Right now, everything was good. And I was going to do everything in my power to keep it that way.