'it's you.'
'Who'd you think it would be?'
'I guess I was hoping it was Sugar. Look at me. I'm a wreck. I don't know how to do any of this shit. Sugar always gets me dressed. Christ, I haven't got the right hormones for this fucking shit, you know what I mean?'
'Where'd Sugar go?'
'I don't know. We had another fight. I don't even know how it started. Something about me not appreciating his coffee cake.'
I looked around. The house was beyond immaculate. Not a speck of dust anywhere. Nothing out of place. Through the kitchen door I could see the kitchen counters neatly lined with cakes, pies, loaves of bread, glass jars filled with cookies and homemade fudge.
'I didn't even realize he was all that upset,' Sally said. 'He got dressed and left when I was in my bubble bath.'
Morelli arched an eyebrow. 'Bubble bath?'
'Hey, give me a break here. RuPaul says you're supposed to take a goddamn bubble bath, so that's what I do. Gets you in touch with your fuckin' female side.'
Morelli grinned.
Sally was wearing black bikini Calvins and panty hose, and he was holding a contraption that looked like a corset with breasts. 'You gotta help me,' he said. 'I can't get into this by myself.'
Morelli held up a hand. 'You're on your own.'
Sally looked over at him. 'What, are you homophobic?'
'Nope,' Morelli said. 'I'm Italian. There's a difference.'
'Okay,' I said. 'What do I have to do?'
Sally wiggled into the corset and got it in place. 'Tighten this fucker up,' he said. 'I need to get a waist.'
I pulled at the strings, but I couldn't get them to go together. 'I can't do this. I haven't got enough hand strength.'
We both looked at Morelli.
Morelli gave a disgusted sigh. 'Shit,' he said, heaving himself off the couch. He took hold of the strings, put his foot to Sally's butt and yanked.
'Oof,' Sally said. He looked over his shoulder at Morelli. 'You've done this before.'
'Dolan used to wear one of these when he went undercover.'
'I don't suppose you did Dolan's makeup?'
'Sorry,' Morelli said, 'makeup's way out of my league.'
Sally looked to me.
'No sweat,' I said. 'I'm from the burg. I was putting makeup on Barbie before I could walk.'
Half an hour later I had him appropriately slutted up. We tugged on his wig and did some last-minute combing. Sally zipped himself into a short black leather skirt and a black leather top that looked like Madonna meets the Hell's Angels. He slipped his sizefourteen feet into a pair of platform heels, and he was ready to go.
'How are you doing on time?' I asked.
He grabbed his guitar case. 'I'm cool. So how do I look? Am I pretty?'
'Well, uh . . . yeah.' If you like almost-seven-feet-tall, slightly bowlegged, hook-nosed guys with hairy chests and arms dressed up like the bride of the Valkyries.
'You should come with me,' Sally said. 'I'll introduce you to the rest of the band, and you could stay and watch the show.'
'Do I know how to take a girl on a date, or what?' Morelli said.
We took the elevator with Sally and followed him out of the lot. He looped around down by the river and got on Route 1 north.
'That was nice of you to help him with his corset,' I said.
'Yeah,' Morelli said. 'I'm Mr. Sensitivity.'
Sally went about fifteen miles and put his blinker on, so we'd know he was turning. The club was on the right side of the highway, all lit up in red and pink neon lights. Already there were a lot of cars in the lot. The sign on the rooftop advertised an all-girl revue. I guessed that was Sally.
Sally crawled out of the Porsche and straightened his skirt.
'We've played here for four weeks now,' he said. 'We're like fucking regulars.'
Regular what I didn't know.
Morelli looked around the lot. 'Where's Sugar's car?'
'The black Mercedes.'
'Sugar does okay.'
Sally grinned. 'You ever see him in drag?'
