An hour later, auburn wig crowing it all, plus some jewelry we’d found—and definitely not our usual costume variety—we placed her in her heels and shined a spotlight on her (flashlight, but why quibble?) and then struck up the band (Kit was an awesome beat-boxer).
“Ladies and gentlemen… er, man… please welcome to the stage… er, bus… the incomparable (or at least undead)… Creature Comfort!” I shouted, with great aplomb.
Max stared at the spectacle through the rearview mirror. “No way,” he managed.
“Oh, big f*****g way,” said Kit proudly. “Big f*****g mega-shellacked way.”
I rushed to the bathroom and found a gilded hand mirror. If it was really made of gold, I didn’t want to know. f*****g Cher. Then I rushed back and held it in front of her face. Eyes wide and unblinking, she stared, ta
