Chapter 14.1: 1994, Ruiz
I'm experiencing the word between "gross" and "gorgeous". What is that word?
"Yeah, you dick! Come over here and say that!" barks Ambrose's boy voice from under his giant mermaid blonde wig. He's holding a beer in one of his hands and his bag in another. He looks like he's about to go across the street and pummel a couple of drunk guys with his purse like a weapon.
The guys are laughing across the street.
"Come on Ambrose, they're not worth it," I say quietly.
"Yeah not worth it..." Ambrose says quietly, drunkenly. Then he shouts it. "YOU'RE NOT WORTH IT! YOU HEAR ME! YOU'RE NOT WORTH IT! YEAH RUN AWAY!"
"Ambrose, Ambrose, Ambrose," I sigh, pulling his arm with the beer at the end of it.
"Its Ambrozia deVelour and don't you forget it," he slurs, leaning on me, placated now.
At Ambrose's apartment, I start to undress. First, off came my pearls. I place them in a clean ashtray, away from everything. Next comes my wig, very carefully. Its an elegant chocolate colored bun. Over my shoulder, I look at the sleeping form behind me on the bed. Ambrose is asleep, looking like a make-up'd child, still in full drag. He just found the bed, flipped over onto it, and started to snore. Tomorrow he will have pink eye due to sleeping with his eye make-up on. Or whatever that infection is.
Using his Neutrogena make-up remover wipes, I start to make my face look like my own again. I don't like it. Can't I keep up the illusion just for a few more hours? My hurting feet in the six inch stilettos tell me no. Peeling off my fake eyelashes, I sigh.
Its a Wednesday night. I have no idea what time it is, only that its still dark. I'm wearing a dress from Roman Holiday, the one Audrey Hepburn as a Princess wore in the beginning. It was Princess Night at Club Her Majesty, one of the namesake nights of the club. My tiara is missing, and in my drunken state I can't quite remember where it went. It was a dollar store crown, so its not that important. After a while, I vaguely remember letting another drag queen, Veronixxxa, wear it some time around 2am. Or was it 3am. I can only remember how the little red jewels looked a lot better with her half red sequined mouth. That's the only reason I remember.
I struggle to take off my dress, knowing it took two of us to get me in it. I jump up and down lightly, trying to get a hold of the button towards my middle back. If I don't get it I will be stuck in this dress until Ambrose wakes up, and that could be tomorrow afternoon. Crap, I can't get it. My arms are too short because I'm too short. My ever sleepier and sleepier brain crawls towards the knowledge that there is another drag queen in the apartment who never seems to sleep.
Now being completely myself except for this voluminous dress, I struggle to get out of the bedroom door. Ambrose groans on the bed as the light from the hallway illuminates the softly lit room too brightly. His headache from drinking too much is starting, I can tell.
Rounding the corner into the living room, I'm met with a smiling face from the couch. Its Miss Cha Cha, 5'10", forty-one, Latina, long gorgeous natural black hair, red lipstick'd mouth no matter the occasion, long red nails that are her own.
"Hola, little boy in a dress," she laughs, lowering her book. "You need something? How was Princess Night?"
"Ambrose got drunk and disorderly," I sigh.
"Sounds like him," she laughs. I notice how the red scarf in her hair is the perfect accent to the flowing curls. She looks like a Princess herself.
"I need help getting out of this dress, Mommy," I joke, turning around and gesturing at the problem button.
As she undoes the button, she tells me something awful. "You got mud on the bottom of your dress," she says.
My eyes press closed and I let out all the air in my body like a steam whistle. The resulting sound makes Miss Cha Cha's face go up in concern. "We'll send it out for dry cleaning, baby, don't worry about it," she says in a sweet voice, gathering my brown curly hair and tucking it over my shoulder in affection to make me feel better.
"Yeah, but what if they ruin iiit," I whine, truly concerned but my drunken state making me childlike in my worry.
"Ambrose will make you another one. If they ruin it, we'll go shopping for the fabrics together. We can make a girls' day of it," Miss Cha Cha smiles at me, holding my face.
"I gueeeess," I whine more, pouting. Miss Cha Cha laughs and helps me fold the dress down so I can step out of it.
"You need help with your corset?" she asks.
"Yes, Mommy," I nod, suddenly feeling very sleepy.
She starts to undo it, and I can breathe fully again.
As I putter down the hallway in my sleepiness, I hear the fabric sounds of Miss Cha Cha gathering up my dress in the living room. I start purring, feeling entirely too sleepy for words. In the back of my mind, I feel good for calling Miss Cha Cha "Mommy". She's always wanted kids. In fact, I think that's why she took in Ambrose after Miss Paula died. She was very good friends with Miss Paula.
Once in Ambrose's room again, I slip off my corset and put it in the corset box I brought with me. I wrap the paper around it and set it in the closet. I'll have to somehow remember its there tomorrow afternoon when I go home. Standing there in my nylons, I don't make a very pretty picture. I look like I'm half human and half lace alien from the planet Venus. You can't even tell I'm wearing underwear under my three pairs of nylons. But for a little bit, I stare at my middle place. How there's nothing there. Like a woman. My brain starts to drift off into Never Never Land.
Ambrose makes a noise on the queen bed, something like, "light is on..." in Spanish. This brings me back to reality, and I start to unravel my lacey tights like a machine. Pretty soon I'm standing in the half mirror of the vanity naked. Making a frowning face, I look in my overnight bag and find a pair of underwear. They're stretchy and lacey boyshorts, my favorite. I put them on with a struggle, then out of my bag comes my white lacey baby doll slip that I like to sleep in when I'm at Ambrose's house. I secretly thank god that my mom has never found it when gathering things in my room to do laundry as I slip it over my head.
I debate slipping in some breast pads. My hands touch over where the boobs should go in a flowing motion over my chest privately. But there's the issue with the material stretching as I sleep, and most likely I'll wake up with the breast pads somewhere else and I will have to search for them in the bed. I don't want the hassle when I have a hang over.
Sighing, I turn off the light finally and the room descends into darkness. Over on the bed, I hear Ambrose snoring and this helps lead me to the bed. I feel like a Princess trying to find the dragon. Ambrose's snores have become blubbery and drunk, like a character in an old Disney cartoon.
I jump onto the bed like a cat, and find Ambrose with my hands. He makes no protest to my touch, being in a dream. My hands climb up his body which is swaddled in lower quality wedding dress satin. I find his shoulder, and let my chin go over it. In the dark, I press him to me like he is a giant warm doll. His slow breathing comforts something deep inside of me that does not have a name.
Listening to him, feeling him, I fall eventually into a very deep and pleasing sleep.