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Tommy

“Why are you always trying to pull us into some wei rd ass scheme?”

I asked Amos when he had brought up the idea of doing drag in San Antonio during pride.

“It looks like fun. Come on, guys— Tommy, you’ll be a beautiful drag queen. Besides, I might get extra credit for my drama class.

Owen just shook his head. “No, dude, no thank you. I’ll come support you though.”

“No way. You gotta do this. Besides, you owe me,”

he told Owen, earning a nasty scowl.

“You’re going to call in your favor by making me dress in drag?”

“Yep,”

Amos said, laughing. “I have Rachel, Susan, and Kathy lined up to give us a makeover. It’ll be fun, and with your voice, Tommy’s figure, and my moves, one of us should win.”

I didn’t really want to do it, and I surely didn’t care if I won, but I’d go along for his sake. Drag shows were just another performance, and I wasn’t surprised Amos wanted to participate. Be it a Shakespeare play or his moves on the field, he was a born performer.

The girls met us in Owen’s room, and after hours of makeup application, a YouTube video on how to hide “the boys,”

and borrowed gowns from our female stylists, the three of us were decked out.

It was… well, an experience was the best way to put it. As luck would have it, Amos won, and Owen came in second. I wasn’t the worst or the best, but like most things, somewhere in the middle. For me, it was more about the event, and I mentally took notes, thinking it would make a great report for the school newspaper, a job I’d just gotten.

Owen scowled as we took a ride share back to the fraternity, saying it was the most uncomfortable he’d ever been and telling Amos, “We’re square now. Never ask me to shave my legs or tuck my junk again!”

Amos was already beaming with over-the-top enthusiasm and Owen’s comment made him laugh.

“Okay, but you were sexy though. You should consider doing drag more.”

“Psst,”

Owen said, then went about ignoring Amos mostly at least.

“Okay,”

Amos finally said. “I’ll let you off the hook for good, provided you go out to a few bars with me. You too, Tommy.”

“Nope, not gonna happen. My feet hurt, and this shit itches. I’m gonna go wash off the makeup, and get back into some shorts that let my boys breathe.”

Amos laughed, but didn’t push me to go. He and Owen left me at the motel, but even after my shower, I was too wired to sleep.

I sat down at my computer and, after thirty minutes, had my first draft on how Amos, UT Austin’s premier linebacker, had shaken his ass on stage and won first prize in the amateur drag show competition.

I did a few cleanup edits, emailed it to Amos and Owen for their permission, and headed to bed where I fell into a deep sleep. I dreamed of Amos holding me in a romance novel pose, but of course, he was the damsel in distress, and I was the same awkward person I’ve always been.