Free Painted Faces by L.H. Cosway Page B

little secret, I'm awful at choosing costumes and doing my own make-up. I've always had an assistant to do it for me.”
    “ Wow, there must be money to be made in the drag queening business if you can afford an assistant.”
    He raises an eyebrow. “Not really. I inherited a lot when my father passed away. It's caused me to accumulate expensive tastes. I should probably be more frugal.”
    “ Is that what you're doing by living here? Any sane person with cash to splash would run a mile from this dump.”
    He glances around. “It's not so bad. I think it's got character. I've always tended to select my living spaces in older buildings, places that feel lived in are oddly reassuring to me.”
    “ If by lived in you mean an aged whore with cracked skin and some sort of downstairs infection she can't get rid of, then you're right, this building has plenty of character.”
    Nicholas grins. “You have a wonderful way with words Fred, disgusting but wonderful.”
    “ Why thank you. So tell me more about this assistant predicament. I thought you looked amazing tonight. You can dress and do your make-up fine, what's the problem?”
    “ I've just gotten used to having somebody else do it over the years. I suppose you could call it a combination of habit and laziness. I'm also terribly disorganised, if you hadn't noticed.” He gestures around his apartment.
    “ Ah, now we're getting to the crux of the matter. I think I should stage an intervention. No longer will Vivica Blue require the services of an assistant/dresser/make-up artist, from here on out she will do it all herself,” I laugh. “You need to learn to get organised if you want to survive in the cut throat business of gay night club performance. Harry tells me the gays can't abide by clutter.”
    He doesn't say anything, but he seems to be regarding me strangely.
    “ What?” I ask.
    He sips on his tea. “You're something of a job collector,” he replies ponderously. “How would you feel about a third?”
    I look at him, incredulous. “Are you asking me to be your assistant?”
    “ I might be,” he smirks. “How are you with make-up?”
    I shrug. “I get by.”
    “ And what about fashion?” he goes on, eyes roaming over my dress. “You seem to have good taste. I like the whole 40's vintage thing you've got going on tonight. Yes, there's definitely potential. How about a two week trial period?”
    “ You forget that I work in the mornings. I'm not sure I could survive one job at night and another where I have to get up at the crack of dawn.”
    “ Yes but that's weekdays. My gigs are Thursday through Saturday.”
    “ I'd still have the late night on Thursday and the early morning on Friday.” I disagree.
    “ I'll pay you double time on Thursdays to make up for it.” He's not backing down.
    Thinking of the extra money I could earn just for helping to select some outfits and putting on a few false eyelashes is extremely tempting. I could certainly do with the cash.
    “ Why are you so determined for me to agree?”
    “ I don't know. There's something about you that comforts me. Perhaps the fact that every second word out of your mouth begins with an F.”
    “ As if you're any better,” I laugh.
    He winks. “Exactly, that's how I know we'll get along. Besides, you are my new best friend aren't you?”
    “ I am. But don't tell Nora, she'll only get jealous.” I take a sip of tea, the warm liquid sobers me a little, although I wish it wouldn't. Being in the presence of Nicholas in all his sexy glory is easier when I'm tipsy.
    He sits there silently, nursing his own cup, not saying a word. His searing eyes haven't left me. For some reason I don't feel like being the one to break the silence.
    After a while Nicholas asks softly, “So will you agree? I promise you'll have a ball. The job is a piece of piss.”
    Staring at all of the unpacked boxes scattered around the room, I'm not so sure about that. I'm hoping he turns out to be one those people