Free Uncaged Love by JJ Knight Page A

You’ll get to ogle Colt. He’ll be enchanted by an unrecognizable beauty across the room.”
    “Zero…”
    He sets the bag on the chair, his expression gentler now. “It means a lot to me.”
    I feel bad. Zero has been there for me for every little thing. He’s fed me. Kept me sane. “What did you have in mind for me to wear?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
    Within minutes I’m dressed like I stepped from a musical. The emerald gown could be straight from Oz. The color makes my pale skin look creamy instead of Goth. To make it seem more like a costume than just a dress, he has given me a little jacket with a shiny silver fan that stands up behind my head. I look like a witch.
    My hair could be on the cover of Glamour . Curls cascade away from my face and down my shoulders. I didn’t even realize I had that much hair.
    He apologizes for the heaviness of my makeup. “But darling, you have to pull a Victor/Victoria. No one can know I’ve brought a real woman.”
    I wince as he spreads all sorts of creams and goo on my face. The false eyelashes make my lids heavy. My lips are a color I could never describe, but Zero calls it Coral Confession.
    He steps back to examine his handiwork. “It’s my most stunning creation. The heteros will look at you and see a glamorous woman. My friends will be envious that my man is so utterly amazing in drag.” He smiles. “I’ve missed my calling.”
    The face in the mirror is not my own. It’s buried in pinks and smoky grays. But it’s almost freeing to be someone other than Jo. In this getup, I could be anybody. Maybe I could even walk right up to Colt McClure and kiss his beautiful mouth.
    There is no time for nail work, so elbow-length black gloves cover my beat-up hands. I’m worried about shoes, but Zero produces a pair of sparkling platforms that are tall, but flat. When I slip them on, I find I can walk mostly like normal.
    “Darling, you are divine,” Zero says.
    I push at the hair on my neck. “How long is this gig?” I ask.
    “Two hours, tops.” He adjusts his wig. “I’ll never forget this.”
    I’m quite sure I won’t either.
    “Let’s get this done,” I say. I hope we don’t have to walk far. The dress lets me take a stride that’s about three inches long. It’s like a straitjacket for my knees.
    Zero calls for a taxi, a rare luxury. But necessary, I guess, for our getup. When we roll to a stop in a much nicer part of town, I feel a pit of dread in my gut. A lifetime of plain dressing leads to this.
    Zero takes my arm and parades me to the door of a high-end dance hall. Panic zips through me as we get to the bouncer. It’s always sticky at these things, since I’m only twenty. But Zero hands him the tickets, and we go through without incident.
    I’ve never been any place like this. The foyer opens up to a ballroom with tables dotting the dance floor. A stage is set up with red velvet curtains and a long runway that extends out into the crowd. The ceiling is impossibly high. When I look up, I realize there is a balcony with more tables against a rail.
    We approach a tuxedoed man behind a podium. “Miss Zerobia and her escort,” Zero says.
    The man checks his list. “Follow me.”
    He leads us to a table near the back. Quite a number of men are sitting alone, their dates undoubtedly also participants in the show. Some are in drag, glamorous and sparkling. A few wear traditional suits. I’m the only woman as far as I can tell.
    Hopefully they will all accept me even if they figure it out, to keep Angel fooled. I’m hoping to stick to low light. The idea of shielding Zero from his stalker makes me want to giggle.
    “Wine and beer are included,” Zero says. “So don’t be afraid to order.” He sees another dazzling performer and waves. “I’ll be back after my number.” He leans in close. “If you see Angel, please try to be a man.” He disappears in a glittery flash.
    I settle in a chair. A waiter arrives but I wave him away. I never