Page 187 of While You Were Trending

“Still don’t know why it had to be in my apartment. My dog was there, dude.” I take a seat on a stool in front of a mirror, dig deeper into the takeout containers for steak tips, and then watch as Ginny and Zander chat easily as he changes into a dress and she eats her dinner.

Lou, his best friend and co-performer for the show, joins us, mostly dressed and in full makeup but not yet in his wig, and the two queens fuss over Ginny until Zander suddenly shrieks that it’s almost showtime and kicks us out.

Me first.

Then Ginny.

“I should’ve been paying attention to the time,” Ginny whispers to me when she joins me in the front row under the cover of dimmed lights.

Not that I’m worried that anyone here would leak pictures of us together.

Drag queens and their fans are loyal and accepting to a fault.

I love that my brother’s found so much success in a community he loves and feels safe in.

“Cherry would’ve started her show late anyway,” I tell Ginny. “It’s a thing with queens.”

“Ooh. Right. The dramatic entrance.”

Ginny puts a hand on my thigh.

I go fromchill friend at my brother’s showto full mast in a millisecond.

“Thank you for still bringing me,” she whispers in the waiting darkness. “Fluffy being a menace aside, I’m having a great time. And thank you for remembering my chicken strips.”

I put my hand over hers and squeeze, not trusting myself with words.

There’s a drumroll, and then the first chords of Cherry Slapstick’s signature opening number.

She struts out in her sparkling silver evening gown and sky-high talking wig and glittering eight-inch heels—swear she’s gonna break an ankle one day—singing in her baritone with a lift about the troubles of being a cherry with all of the sass and sarcasm that’s made her famous, her wig taking turns in a tenor, and I soak in the sounds of Ginny’s laughter as she catches on to all of the lyrics, both those that Cherry sings and those that Fuchsia Fallenout sings.

As the final notes of the song are drawing close, Peppermint Sinbin, Cherry’s best friend both on and offstage, joins her in a green-and-yellow knee-length velvet atrocity that looks like something a Christmas elf trying to be a bumblebee would wear, and she yells in her higher-pitched voice to stop the music.

“What are youdoing?” Peppermint says to Cherry. “Why are you acting like this is anormalshow?”

Cherry pops a fist onto her hip and draws her shoulders back. “Itisa normal show.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Not when there’s a celebrity in the audience.”

A murmur goes through the crowd.

Ginny sucks in a breath.

“Trust them,” I murmur, squeezing her hand tighter, knowing full well she’s safe but I’m not. “It’s okay.”

Cherry and Peppermint have a stare down that ends when Peppermint rolls her eyes higher than her platinum blond wig. “Just because you don’t like that he’s more famous than you doesn’t mean you can say he’s not a celebrity.”

Cherry gasps in that way only a drag queen on a roll can gasp as Ginny’s entire body sags beside me.

“Oh, thank the stars,” she whispers.