A Half Dozen Fools (21 page)

Elyse twisted her mouth to one side. "Me. That makes six."

"Oh, Elyse! Stop--it's not your fault! Don't count yourself in with the rest of the fools."

"Hey, when the shoe fits, you know what they say."

"Oh, come on--"

"No, I deserve the honor, actually. I ignored all the warning signs. And what's really sad is that out of all these numbskulls, I know this one really cool guy who I thought wasn't--I don't know, maybe I thought he wasn't good enough, or something, because of the business he's in. Like, not rich enough, or ambitious enough, or something. Only, as it turns out, Dylan? He's the best guy I've ever met."

"Who in heck is this?"

"Just, this guy... He's been running these copy shops for his uncle. His uncle got sick, and he took over. But when I first met him, I thought he was just a regular joe."

"Uh-huh..."

"Only, he's a great guy, with a brain. And more than that--he has a heart."

"Whoa, wait a minute--is he attractive?"

Elyse looked at him flatly. "Does that even matter? I mean, if I find who-he-is attractive--"

"Right, right, sure--that's what I meant! I meant, do
you
find him attractive?"

A radiant smile lit Elyse's face. "He's beautiful."

Dylan looked at her. "And where is this guy now?"

"He moved to another store. I don't see him anymore."

"Where's the store--Alaska?"

Elyse burst out laughing. "No."

"Another state?"

"The Upper West Side. He's helping out up there."

Dylan rolled his eyes. "Oh, good Lord, Elyse! The Upper West Side? Wait a minute--is he married?"

"No! At least--I don't think so... No, I'm sure he isn't. I think..."

With downcast eyes, Elyse shook her head in silent frustration.

Dylan spoke quietly. "Maybe you'd better go find out."

"What if he is, and I was just asleep at the wheel again?"

"Then, run, don't walk away."

Dylan slid off the ledge and rubbed his buttocks. "One thing's for sure though. You won't know unless you go find out."

Elyse stood and looked up at him. Her gigantic eyes welled with tears. Dylan reached out and pulled her into a hug. She hugged him back, and when they parted, she sighed.

"Maybe I'm afraid to take a chance now," she said quietly.

"Have a little faith, would ya? Just go find out. If he's married, or got a girlfriend, just say, 'Hey, it was nice seeing you,' and move on. Fast. At least you'll have closure."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Okay." She looked out over the avenue. "Let's go have dinner now. Those margaritas really kicked my butt."

Dylan put his arm around his friend and the two of them headed to a great little Italian place over on Sixty-Third, just off Columbus.

* * * *

Elyse was rarely late for work, but today she had a harder time than usual getting ready. She dawdled for no specific reason beyond a lack of desire. She finally called the Make-Up Place, and Carla answered. Elyse let her know she was running behind schedule. But then the subway was delayed, which put her even farther behind.

Judy shot Elyse a sour look when she arrived more than twenty minutes late.

"Sorry, sorry," Elyse blurted. "Everything that could possibly go wrong, did!"

Judy had the bleary-eyed look of having sneaked the flask, already. "Well, unfortunately," she said in a screechy twang that sounded to Elyse like nails on a blackboard, "you have an appointment waiting already."

"What?"

"In your studio. You have a full makeup session waiting."

Elyse marveled at how the one day she happened to be late, she had an appointment. "Oh! Geez, I haven't even set up, or anything. How come she's not out here in the waiting area?"

Judy glanced at Carla, then back at Elyse and lowered her voice. "'Cause
she
ain't a
she
. She's a
he
."

Elyse froze and frowned in consternation. "Huh?"

Judy raised her penciled black eyebrows and waited for the idea to sink in.

Elyse blinked as it dawned on her. "I'm doing makeup on a guy?"

When Judy snuffed wickedly, Elyse whipped around and looked at Carla. Carla nodded in agreement.

"That's why I thought he should wait in your studio," Judy added quietly. "I thought that might be better for when Carla's client comes in."

Elyse rolled her eyes and unbuttoned her coat. Only once had she done makeup on a guy. Even though he'd been cute and young, it hadn't been an easy job. She'd found it challenging to make cheeks toughened by shaving appear smooth and glowing underneath foundation.

Quietly, Elyse asked Judy, "Is this the same guy who was in a few months back?"

The frightened expression with which Judy shook her head worried Elyse. Muttering about her strange lot in life, Elyse whipped off her coat and marched inside her studio.

The sight of the man seated before the mirror gave her a start.

Well into his fifties, he was built solidly, like an ex-prize fighter or a man who'd done physical labor most of his life. Her eyes scanned the blue, velour jogging outfit he wore down to his pointy, snakeskin cowboy boots. Perched sedately in the makeup chair with hands crossed over his belly, his sausage-sized fingers sported long, add-on nails with shiny, silver polish.

Frozen on the spot, Elyse stood there gaping. She dug down to the core of her being for her escaping professionalism that had always come naturally. Once she had a proper hold on herself, she cleared her throat.

The man watched her through the mirror. "Hello," he said quietly.

Elyse smiled and crossed the room extending a hand.

"Hi, how do you do? I'm Elyse Wazinski, your makeup artist."

She was shocked when the big man turned and fluttered like a southern belle. Placing one beefy hand over his heart, he delicately reached out the other.

"How do you do, Miss Elyse." In spite of its soft tone, his voice was undeniably masculine. "I'm Earl. But for today, if you don't mind--would you please call me Delila?"

"Oh, sure, Ear--Delila. Nice to meet you."

As she hung up her coat, flashes of Jack Lemmon in drag from the movie,
Some Like It Hot
, shot through her mind. For a moment, all she heard in her head was his character squealing, "I'm a girl, I'm a girl, I'm a girl!"

She shook away that image and composed herself, smoothing down her skirt until she had a grip on the urge to laugh out loud. She crossed to the sink and washed her hands, mustering the energy and focus she'd need to perform the task at hand. When she was ready to embrace the gargantuan challenge of making Earl into Delila, she turned.

Her customer beamed. "I'm so excited about this, Miss Elyse, I just can't tell you!"

"Right," Elyse said. "Okay, well, I'm glad to hear that, Delila. Let's talk about your needs today."

He patted his fingertips together like a genteel lady applauding a piano concerto, then scrunched one shoulder up like a sex kitten, a pose made all the more incongruent in light of his masculine, barber-style haircut.

Elyse got right to work. Applying makeup to Delila's weathered skin was going to be a major challenge, so she started with plenty of moisturizer. His leathery skin and enlarged pores required patience and a true artist's touch. She literally painted the foundation carefully with a brush and the aid of a sponge. Sweating from the intensity of concentration, she worked hard to keep him from looking like a clown.

In the end, Elyse felt she'd failed to make Delila look truly beautiful, but one had to consider the canvas, after all. And while he hadn't ended up looking like a clown, he was obviously a man in drag.

The effects of testosterone.
She pushed away the memory of Henry's study on brilliant male artists and smiled at her client.

"Well? What do you think?"

Delila was enrapt in his reflection. "Oh, my heavens," he gushed, "you are genius! A genius!"

He clasped his hands over his heart and admired his visage in the mirror. Even for all his sweet sincerity, Elyse had to choke back guffaws.

"Oh!" Delila exclaimed. "I almost forgot--the
pièce de résistance
."

He reached down beside his chair and drew a mass of blond curls from a big plastic bag.

Thickening his coquettish southern drawl, he said, "I need to stand up for this."

Elyse stared as he bent his large frame and yanked the blond mane over his hairline. Straightening up, he maneuvered the wig into place. At the sight of the final product, Elyse felt her eyebrows shoot up and, just as quickly, suppressed her desire to laugh.

Delila turned toward Elyse and struck a beauty pageant pose.

"Well," he drawled, "how do y'all think I look?"

"Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Your whole look just came together with that."

"Oh, I think so, too! I am delighted! What an artist you are. No one has ever done my makeup so well! My friends will all be so jealous."

"Going someplace special tonight?"

"To a party," he turned toward the mirror. "A very special party..." Mesmerized by his own appearance, his voice trailed off.

"Sounds wonderful."

Relieved her work was successful, at least in the eyes of the beholder, Elyse smiled and relaxed. Although, in truth, she thought the fake eyelashes she'd applied were too long. Delila had picked them out from the assortment she'd offered, however, so she did her best to make them work. But when he blinked, all Elyse could think of was Elsie The Cow.

Delila reached into the bag again and pulled out a camera.

"Would you mind?" he asked, breathless. "Just a couple for posterity?"

While Delila pursed his lips, wickedly funny thoughts popped into Elyse's head again, as she focused the camera on his Marilyn Monroe impersonation. She giggled to herself thinking how much more Delila resembled Bette Davis in the movie classic,
Whatever Happpened to Baby Jane?
than the iconic starlet he sought to emulate.

Once the photo session ended, Delila asked Elyse for a few moments, alone.

"If you don't mind," he added. "I just want to bask a couple more minutes before it's time to go."

"Sure. Uh--are you going to wear your wig out?"

"Oh, not to go home. I've got a hat. No, I'll wear it later on this evening. By the way--I want to buy everything you showed me, so I can do this on my own again."

"Great. Let me get it all together for you."

"I so deserve this, don't I?"

"Oh, absolutely." She gathered up the testers she'd used. "Like I always say, if you don't treat yourself right, who will?"

"So true, so true!"

Elyse headed for the door.

"Thank you, again, my dear," Delila called. "Thank you so very much!"

Elyse was amazed by how emotional Delila had become, as if his feminine appearance led him to feel all kinds of new and wonderful things.

"You're welcome, Delila."

"Oh, here--take my card."

Elyse reached for the credit card poised between pudgy, silver-tipped fingers. Delila then delicately pressed those fingers into prayer position and made a half-bow to Elyse. After a little curtsy in return, Elyse hurried out to the front of the store.

Judy's head snapped up from the magazine she was reading on top of the retail counter. Carla glanced up from her manicure, but got right back to work while another customer soaked her feet in the pedicure tub ...ing on her cell phone.

Elyse smiled tightly at the dying-to-know expression on Judy's face.

"I'll just be getting these items together while Deli--I mean, Earl--gets it together in there."

Judy proceeded with caution. "Need any help?"

"I've got it, thanks."

A few minutes later, Delila, now Earl, came out of the studio. Even with a baseball cap replacing the wig, the makeup job screamed "Man In Drag." Plus, those silver nails!

Carla looked up, gulped and put all her attention back on her customer's nails. Wide-eyed, the lady awaiting a pedicure ended her phone call fast, and pretended to read the newspaper while scoping out the scene before her.

"Here you go, Earl," Elyse said brightly. "I just need your signature here."

Earl nodded coyly and signed the slip. He then pressed a folded bill into Elyse's hand.

"You've been wonderful, Elyse. So wonderful! Thank you so much again."

Startled by a man's voice, the customer getting a manicure turned around. She was just in time to see Earl put super-sized sunglasses over long, luscious lashes. Her face registered shock as she turned back toward Carla.

"Good luck with everything, Earl," Elyse said sweetly. "Any questions or concerns about any of the products, don't hesitate to call. I'll be glad to help you out."

He smiled demurely and, with great care, put his bag of goodies inside a leather satchel. He slung the satchel over a shoulder, grasped his big, plastic bag with the other hand and headed out the door.

A beat of silence hung in the air after Earl had left, and the women all stared after him. Finally, the lady at the pedicure station piped up.

"I hope, for his sake, he isn't getting on the subway. He'll never make it home in one piece."

Everybody burst out laughing. Even Elyse laughed. But, in fact, she also hoped Earl got home safely. He had bought everything she'd used on him. Yes, he'd been a challenge, but he'd also been so sweet. And, the fifty dollar bill he'd slipped into her palm was pretty sweet, too.

Of course, leave it to Rod to put a negative spin on the Earl experience, the next day.

"I can't say I think that kind of business is good," he grumbled. "I mean, I'm not judgmental, mind you. I don't care what any of them do on their own time, at their own clubs. Whatever. Let 'em all--"

Elyse managed to block out the rest of Rod's assertion about gays and men in drag. When she happened to hear him say, "It's okay if they work in creative fields, 'cause there's mostly women in those anyway," she aimed to tune right back out, again. Against her will, however, she caught snippets of his opinion about how gays ought to stick with their own kind and not mix with the general public.