Page 16 of Falling for You
Tanya’s head snaps round to face me. ‘What? Of course you’re allowed to wear it! You must wear it!’
‘It’s not a ball gown. Isn’t it a masquerade ball?’
Tanya bats me away. ‘Just add a mask and you’ll be fine. We’re on the guest list, baby, we’re golden.’
CHAPTER SIX
Nate
I zoom in on my laptop screen, the patches of green stretching apart to reveal road names and buildings. Aunt Tell lives in Epping, which is about an hour on the train from here. We could go by this weekend, just pop in and see her. All I have to do is persuade Stevie to come with me, without telling him my reason. If I tell Stevie it’s because I want to persuade Aunt Tell to come back to New York with me, he’ll get all weird and closed off like he always does when I bring up Mom. You don’t have to be a psychologist to work out why – you can see the guilt painted across his face at being on the other side of the world while I’ll have to deal with Mom being sick. But youwouldhave to be a psychologist to get him to talk about it, or even acknowledge a single feeling exists inside his eccentric, defensive mind. I’ve given up trying. He’ll come to me eventually, and if he doesn’t, I’ll just buy him a pint.
‘All right?’
I look up and double-take Stevie as he walks into the living room. He’s wearing a tank top, which is tight against his lean body, baggy joggers and a single hoop earring. Noneof this is out of the ordinary; it’s his full face of make-up that nearly makes me fall off my seat.
‘Is this your new act?’ I ask, trying not to laugh at his exaggerated lips, fan-like eyelashes and painted-on eyebrows which arch up the side of his face.
Stevie clicks his tongue at me, opening his bag and throwing his water bottle inside.
‘I’m getting a cab and I hate the dressing room at this place,’ he snaps. ‘It’s easier if I do my make-up here and then get changed once I’m there.’
I nod, taking a sip from my cold bottle of Corona.
Stevie created Stevie Trixx, his drag persona, a few years after he finished dance school. It made total sense, Stevie’s a fantastic dancer … but he’s also a performer. He loves making people laugh and gasp on stage and he’s always been so creative.
‘What time is your cab?’ I ask, moving my bag so he can slump onto the sofa next to me. He closes his eyes, pushing a thumb and forefinger against his temple, the long, glittery nail catching the light and sparkling.
‘In about ten minutes,’ he says.
‘Hey!’ I say, sitting up as the thought drops into my mind. ‘You might have my new mate, Remy, as your driver. He’s a cabbie!’
‘Is he a homophobe?’
I pause. I’m not stupid enough to believe that just because someone is nice to me means that they wouldn’t act vile towards someone from another walk of life. But I do like to think I’m a good judge of character.
‘No,’ I say eventually. ‘I don’t think so. He’s a nice guy.’
Stevie begins to heave himself off the sofa and I sit up straight. I need to grab him and lock down this weekend before he goes out. God knows what time he’ll get back from his gig tonight.
‘Stevie, are you around on Sunday?’
He clambers to his feet, walking over to the mirror and peering at his cheek. ‘Don’t know. Maybe. Why?’
‘I thought we could go and visit Aunt Tell.’
I try to say it lightly, like I’d suggested catching a movie or going to watch a game, but Stevie knows me too well. He turns to face me, his inexplicable eyebrows raised.
‘Aunt Tell? Why?’
‘Because it would be nice to catch up with family,’ I say, inwardly cringing as the forced words come out of my mouth. It sounds so fake. ‘I haven’t seen her for years, and as I’m in London it would be rude not to.’
Stevie peers at me for a second, then whips back round to the mirror.
‘Cool, well, have fun. But I’m not going.’ He snatches up his bag and blows me a kiss.
‘Stevie!’ I gabble, getting to my feet. ‘Why not? It’ll be nice! I really think—’
‘Byeeeeeeee!’
