A Work Of Art - Katya X Reader

Part 5: Trixie

It was taking all of your energy not to spill the secret to Brian. He kept asking about your project, and every now and then you would nearly slip and mention you were painting the other girls. You were quickly becoming friends with Brian, though, chatting every night about anything and everything. You were on a call with him that Thursday morning, your phone propped up against the wall by your sketchbook so you could see him and draw.

"So, you're telling me you were like a straight A student?" you asked, equal parts dubious and impressed. You knew he was intelligent beyond belief, but the idea that his chaotic energy could be quelled long enough for formal tests came as a surprise.

"Yes, bitch! I have a report card here somewhere." He was seated on his apartment floor, rifling through boxes of his old possessions. So far he'd shown you a whole range of memories; dramatic poetry he'd written at 11 years old, school photos, old art. He was talented, which he denied. "Oh, look at this." He held up a picture of himself as a young adult, posing next to a macabre but beautiful painting. "Nothing's wrong here," he joked in a sing song voice.

"B, you're incredible." He scoffed, shooting a look to the phone. "Don't you even start."

"I mean, my work was fine, I like it, but you're overexaggerating."

"Bullshit!" you shot back. "Take the compliment"!"

With a brief smile to the phone, he changed the subject. "Found the report card!" He flipped the phone camera to show said document, and sure enough, straight As - though a couple were A-. "I was plucked about those A minuses. Plucked."

"You're, like, really smart."

Flipping back the camera, he pursed his lips, shaking his head with a nonchalant "no".

"Okay," you replied, deadpan. There was a split second of silence before you cracked up laughing, Brian laughing too. A knock on the door interrupted you, and you turned to look across, brow furrowing. Trixie wasn't meant for another hour or so, surely it wouldn't be-.

"Let me in you whore!" came his voice from the other side, along with another knock.

Brian seemed confused, too. "Was that Trixie?"

Shaking your head, you scrambled for a lie. It was too early to blow this secret project. "No, uh, postmates, I think."

"Postmates called you a whore? Five star service. If you tip them, they might even slap you a little, if you're into that." You glanced back to him with a chuckle before Trixie called out again. "That really sounds like Trixie."

Furrowing your brow, you turned back to the camera. "I gotta scoot, B, but I'll text you later, okay?" Seemingly a little deflated, he nodded, offering a half hearted wave goodbye. Clicking the little red phone symbol to end the call, you swept up to your door, opening it to reveal a dolled up Trixie. "So, you're now a postmates worker."

"Pay at the club might suck, but I would never stoop so low," she retorted, traipsing past you dramatically. "Why am I moonlighting as a delivery driver?"

"Your screeching caught Katya's attention and I couldn't think of a good enough reason for you to be here."

"My company's not good enough for you?" she exclaimed. "Excuse you!"

With a roll of your eyes and a chuckle, you drew her over to where you'd set up a few lights and a paper backdrop, a lone stool waiting for her. "Your throne, my liege," you offered. Taking her seat, she queried about poses. "Honestly, do whatever feels comfortable for you. You're going to be sitting there for a while, so I would go with something that doesn't require too much effort, but still shows off your personality."

Thinking about it a moment, she drew both arms up to flank her face, fingers framing her eyes. "How's this?" she asked.

"Very you. I will take a couple photos in case you get tired, and to help me remember the lighting, but then I'll start the sketch." Scooping up your camera, you snapped a few pictures before dragging your easel and canvas over to start the sketch. As you blocked out the different shapes, you posed questions to Trixie. "How did you and Katya meet?"

She thought for a second before answering. "God, it was so long ago now, I almost forgot. She just feels like she's always been part of my life." You smiled at this. "We were younger, in our twenties, and we both moved to [your city]. She's from Boston, I'm from Wisconsin. We did drag in our hometowns, but both entered our first pageant here. It was a dual win, which I was so plucked about at first, but we basically became friends straight away. Michelle, actually, hosted that pageant, and liked both of us enough to help us get jobs together. We hosted drag brunches at other clubs, but eventually Katya had this dream to open her own place, y'know, for misfits and weirdos. No idea how she thinks that includes me, but delusion has always looked good on her."

You laughed again, taking your time to sketch in Trixie's features. The dress could be added in later, with the help of miss Bianca. "How did Klub Katya come to fruition?"

Trixie smiled, dropping her arms before your gestured for her to keep them up. "She scrimped and saved for years. This club is her life's work, and it's become, really, a home for all of us. That's why it's so important for us all to help her. She's been heart broken at the idea of getting shut down. And her heart is the heart of the club, so home hasn't felt like home."

Your chin trembled a moment at the sincerity of Trixie's words. "Everyone deserves a place to come home to," you replied softly. "You must have had a hand in this?"

"Well, sure. I just have a knack for business, and marketing. Someday I want to break into the makeup industry. Makeup is meant to be fun and ridiculous, brands these days take themselves too seriously." She took a moment to shake out her arms a bit, sore. "But I had to help her. She was so determined, I knew it was going to be something."

"You can leave your arms down for now, I'm working on the face at the moment. You really believed in her, huh?"

She nodded solemnly. "We went through something, about a year after we met. It's not my place to go into detail, but it was a lot. Like, a lot. But she came out of it on the other end with such a drive to be better, and I had to help her make this happen. This club really is her life, and she's my best friend. I know this whore, and I know that after everything, she's the person she was meant to be. This club is such an extension of her that it felt like supporting her more than supporting a business."

It was a quiet that settled in next, and you were coming to realised who Trixie really was under the bravado; a determined, loving person that you felt - even this early in your friendship - you could rely on always. And that was valuable.

"Well, anyway, I'm a model, so I don't have feelings, let's get back to it!" she joked, flourishing her hands up again, pouting and making strange moaning to get you to laugh.

The rest of the day was spent sketching and underpainting, the section of canvas slowly coming to life before your eyes. By the time Trixie had to leave, a solid base had started, and your determination to get this done was flared up. The pair of you were getting on like a house on fire, too, and you learned a lot about her, her upbringing, her goals. Something about her told you that she was going to achieve everything she wanted and more, she really was a different breed of special.

"Well," you finally declared, setting down the paint brush, "I think that'll do for today. When I talk to Bianca about the gowns, I'll let you know, okay?" She nodded, and you saw her out. Pacing back to look at your mostly-white canvas, you smiled. It was broken up into sections for the different queens, and now that there was some paint on it, this was setting in. It would be a monumentous effort, but one well worth the time.