Prologue
Jacksonville, FL
SHE STUDIED HER face carefully in the mirror, applying little finishing touches here and there to her makeup. Satisfied, she stood and took one last look. Hmm, overage, check; overweight, check; over made-up, check; over accessorized, check; overdressed, definitely. f**k it, she thought, that’s what fifty-year-old drag queens are supposed to look like. Out there in the spotlights, the audiences ate it up.
One of the perks of being the top-billed performer on any given evening at the club was a private dressing room—the other “girls” had to share a room that wasn’t much bigger than this one. The other perk was that she only had to do one show—the late show, the idea being to keep the customers buying drinks as long as possible while they waited for the headline
