Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (18 page)

Chablis was followed by Julie Rae Carpenter, who was a foot taller and at least eighty pounds heavier. A curly-headed blonde, Julie Rae had a dimpled smile and wore a bright blue, ill-fitting taffeta dress that you could tell, from the puckered stitching, was homemade. She skipped and bounced and twice flung herself spread-eagle against the back wall for dramatic effect, but she did it without a hint of irony—and without a clue how embarrassing it was to watch her. About a dozen members of the audience gave Julie Rae tips. An equal number got up and left. As
I sat watching her, a waiter in a floppy straw hat tapped me on the knee. “Chablis asked me to bring you backstage,” he said.

He led me around to a cramped dressing room shared by all the members of the show. They were adjusting their hair and makeup at a long dressing table. Chablis was wearing only panty hose. She caught my reflection in the mirror. “Hey, honey!” she said. “I hope you ain’t mad at me after what I done to you out there, shinin’ that light in your face and talkin’ dirty and all.”

“We’re still friends,” I said.

“That’s good, honey. But I guess that lawyer from Hilton Head won’t be comin’ back soon. I was watchin’ him the whole time, talkin’ and neckin’ with his fish while I was doin’ my number, and, honey, I will not take that! Lucky for him he backed down when I got into his shit about it. ’Cause if he hadn’t, I woulda got meaner.” Chablis removed her wig and combed her natural hair into a pompadour. “I’ve gone as far as taken off my shoe and hit people over the head. To prove to them that, you know, don’t let this dress fool you. Last weekend in Valdosta, a girl was talkin’ real loud, and when I started in on her, she threw a beer at me. She was one of those real mean lesbians, honey; she was a pit-bull dyke. But what she failed to realize was that there was a whole pitcher of beer sittin’ on her table. I baptized the bitch, honey! I baptized the bitch!”

“Well, how did your boss like being called a cheapskate?” I asked.

“Child, that was nothin’. I let him off easy, ’Cause I remembered my pay envelope was downstairs at the bar. I was afraid he might not let me have it if I was too rough on him. I’ll get him later though.”

Julie Rae came off the stage and was followed by Stacey Brown, a tall, elegant black. Next up was Dawn Dupree, a statuesque blonde with long, straight hair and very modish clothes. Chablis told me Dawn was a professional seamstress. “She made the dress I just wore,” she said. “Did you like it?”

“Very impressive,” I said.

“It was perfect for my slut routine. But I’m doin’ somethin’
different for my second song. Somethin’ just for you, honey, somethin’ very demure. I’m gonna do my uptight pussy debutante number. In a floor-length gown. I’d wear pearls too, but I ain’t that pure. Gonna have lots of rhinestones instead. The dress has a slit up the back too, all the way up to my ass. But I’m gonna move real slow and sedate, bein’ the lady that I am. Slow dances are good for business. They make it easier for my fans to come up and give me tips. When you dance fast and dirty, it intimidates some of them. And it’s hard for them to get to you, too, while you’re jumpin’ around. Fact, I gotta put that girl on quick, it’s almost my turn.”

Chablis riffled through a long rack of dresses.

“This is my drag, honey,” she said. The rack held fifty or sixty dresses in a rainbow of colors, most of them sparkling with sequins and rhinestones. There were fluffs of marabou, ripples of velvet and satin, and clouds of tulle.

She held out a red strapless gown. “This is the dress I won Miss World in,” she said. She pointed to a blue one. “And this one was my Miss Georgia dress. If you ever pass a dress shop and wanna be nice to The Doll, honey, just remember I’m a ladies’ small, size six.”

Chablis stood, virtually nude. Her torso was an ideal woman’s shape, narrow-shouldered, full-breasted. Her hips were a bit on the slender side, but I noticed there were no bulges in her panty hose.

“Ooooo,
bayyy
by,” she said. “I just clocked you checkin’ out my pussy! You didn’t see nothin’, I hope.”

“Nothing at all,” I said.

“Good, ’Cause if you ever see anything in my panties, child, you tell me. You say, ‘Girl, your Kotex is showin!’ and I will shift her, honey, ’Cause I cannot
take
that! That is a ugly sight! That is a nasty-lookin’ thing, honey, to be out there all painted with your dick showin’!”

Julie Rae looked up from her makeup. “Really, Chablis!” she said.

“That’s why I wear a gaff,” Chablis went on.

“What’s a gaff?” I asked.

Chablis looked at me with genuine surprise. “You never heard of a gaff?”

“No, what is it?”

“A gaff is a girl’s best friend,” she said. “It holds her dick in place.”

“Chablis!”
Julie Rae blurted out through a mouthful of bobby pins.

“Sistuh hates it when I talk this way. Don’t you, Miss Thing?” Julie Rae did not answer. She was piling her blond curls into a Gibson girl upsweep. Chablis turned back to me. “It’s a trade secret, honey, and Miss Thing thinks I spoil the illusion when I talk about us girls havin’ dicks and all.”

Chablis picked up a small rectangle of pink cloth with two narrow elastic loops attached to it. “This is a gaff, honey. It’s somethin’ like a G-string. What you do is first you pull your stuff back between your legs, and then you step into the gaff and pull it all the way up. You shove your ovaries up inside you too—I call my testicles my ovaries, honey.”

Chablis looked wide-eyed at me. “Child, you should
see
the look on your face!”

“I can’t think of anything more painful than what you just described,” I said.

“Then don’t let me tell you what we do with duct tape!” Cha-blis did not wait for me to stop her. “Duct tape is for when you wanna be butt naked. You tape your stuff back inside the crack of your ass, honey, and nobody knows the difference. But you talk about pain! She is a painful girl to pull off! And gettin’ a hard-on in that position ain’t no picnic either.”

Julie Rae slammed her hairbrush down and left the dressing room. “There goes Miss Thing all in a huff!” said Chablis. “She’ll get over it though. She’s a good girl and I love her and she knows it. And she’s right, anyway. This bullshit ain’t as easy as it looks. It takes me twenty minutes just to do a daytime face—eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, rouge, lipstick. Twenty minutes, honey. And it takes a hour to get ready for the show.”

Julie Rae came back into the dressing room. Chablis gave her a rueful look. “Okay, Miss Thing,” she said, “I’m through talkin’ that shit. I ain’t givin’ away no more secrets. I’m sorry I did it. Yes, I’m sorry, baby. All the way down to my real live pussy. Do you forgive me?” Julie Rae smiled in spite of herself. “Good, honey,” said Chablis, “’Cause us girls has gotta stick together. Oh, child, there’s my cue!”

Chablis took a midnight-blue evening gown off a hanger and slipped into it. The dress was high-necked and hung straight to the floor. A solid cape of rhinestones sparkled across her shoulders. “Zip me, honey,” she said. I zipped her. There was, indeed, a slit halfway up the back. But the song was a slow-moving ballad, and Chablis swayed sinuously rather than bumped. She used her shoulders to express the emotion of the song, and her fans stood in a line to give her tips. When it was over, Chablis took the microphone again to thank the audience for coming. “If you liked the show,” she said, “thank you from the bottom of my heart and just remember my name, The Lady Chablis. If you did not like the show, honey, my name is Nancy Reagan and go fuck yourself.”

Chablis came backstage and took off the long gown. “My lawyer from Hilton Head learned his lesson,” she said. “He tipped me twenty dollars.” She put on a lime-green silk minidress with tiers of swaying beads. “Now it’s time to go downstairs to the bar, pick up my money, and have an apple schnapps and a cigarette.” She applied some lipstick. “Then I’ll come back up for the second show, get into one of my nastiest bump dresses, and ream Burt’s stingy ass from here to kingdom come!”

Downstairs, the disco music was deafening. I followed in Cha-blis’s wake as she made her way through the crowd to the bar. She greeted her fans as they approached, turning her head so they could kiss her on her neck and not smudge her makeup or muss her hair.

“What, honey?” she said. “You missed the show? That’s okay. You can take that tip you was gonna give me and stuff it into my bosom right now. There you go. Ooooo, child! Thank you, honey…. Hey, baby, how y’ doin’? … Okay,
girl!
Sistuh’s lookin’ good! … Oh, child, you still got that number you was here with last week? Yeah? Tell me quick! Pour the
tea
, girl.
Pour the tea!
Aw
right!
… No, honey, I did not bring my husband with me tonight. He’s waitin’ on me at home, savin’ his big ol’ hard-on just for me.”

By the time Chablis reached the bar, her apple schnapps was waiting. She took it and raised her glass to the squat, thick-shouldered man standing next to her. “Hey, Burt,” she said. “Two tears in a bucket!” She downed the drink.

Burt had a shiny bald head and sad eyes. “How you doing, Chablis?” he asked.

“Well, I ain’t on food stamps yet,” she said, “but I’m gettin’ real close. It’s a good thing y’all don’t pay me any more than you do, or I might never qualify.” Burt did not answer.

“speakin’ of which,” she said, daintily holding out her hand, “may I have the envelope, please?” Burt gave her a small envelope.

“Thank you, honey,” she said. “You comin’ up to see the second show?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Burt said.

“That’s good, ’Cause I always do a better show after I’ve had my apple schnapps. And, honey, you
don’t
wanna miss the second show tonight!” Chablis looked inside the envelope. “Where’s the rest of it?” she said.

“The rest of what?” said Burt.

“My money. I’m a hundred dollars short. Y’all been takin’ money out of my pay!”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Burt said. “That was because of the two shows you didn’t work. We didn’t pay you for those.”

A flash of anger sparkled in Chablis’s eyes. “Burt, that’s a buncha shit!” she said.

“What do y’ mean?” said Burt.

“Maybe I wasn’t in front of that spotlight, but I was in front of my makeup mirror, and that’s work right there. Then I caught a cab to come down here, and I got here on time. No one ever called me to tell me the shows were canceled. I get a salary. That’s our agreement.”

Burt gave Chablis a weary look. “If you don’t work, Chablis, you don’t get paid. That’s the way it is.”

“Burt, my rent is due, goddammit! How’m I gonna pay my rent?”

“You’ll have to talk to Marilyn,” said Burt. Marilyn was Burt’s wife.

“I ain’t talkin’ to nobody. I want my money!”

Burt sighed. “Chablis, I’m not going to argue with you. I’m tired. Fair is fair.”

Chablis slammed her hand down on the bar. “Then fuck it,” she said. “Watch this!” She turned and cut quickly through the crowd, pausing briefly for a whispered conference with Julie Rae. Then she charged up the stairs with Burt in close pursuit.

“Chablis!” Burt called after her. “What’re you doing?”

“Give me my money!” she demanded.

“But you didn’t work!”

“Yes, I did!”

In the dressing room, Chablis grabbed a handful of dresses off the rack. “I’m takin’ my drag home,” she said. “I’m quittin’!”

“Chablis, please don’t,” said Burt. He took hold of the dresses, and for a moment the two of them were locked in a tug-of-war.

“Don’t you go pullin’ my beads, child!” said Chablis. Burt, suddenly embarrassed, let go.

Julie Rae appeared in the doorway behind Burt. She was accompanied by a half dozen people she had brought up from downstairs. Chablis tossed the dresses over Burt’s head. Julie Rae caught them and handed them out to the people in the hall. “Keep ’em coming, Chablis,” she said. “We’re with you, babe!”

Chablis took another handful of dresses from the rack, but this time Burt raised his arm to block her way. “Chablis,” he
said, “you’re forgetting something. You borrowed a hundred dollars from us six weeks ago, and you haven’t paid us back.”

Chablis paused for a moment. “That’s true,” she said, “but you never gave me a deadline. You coulda warned me you were gonna cut my pay, especially when my rent was due. And somebody could have called to tell me the shows were canceled. I coulda got bookings somewhere else. I coulda went to Columbia. The tips in Columbia are
flawless.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Chablis,” said Burt, “but I can’t let you take anything out of here until you pay back the loan.”

Chablis thrust a silver lamé dress at Burt. “Here!” she said. “Take this dress! It’s worth a hundred dollars, and it’ll make us even. Now I’m haulin’ my shit outta here!”

Burt stared blankly at the dress. It was a piece of silver cloth no bigger than a tea towel. It hung limp in his hand. “What am I supposed to do with this?” he said.

“Wear it!” said Chablis. “And here’s a little somethin’ else, in case you wanna hide your dick while you got it on.” She shoved a gaff into Burt’s hand. Julie Rae squealed with delight.

Burt dropped the gaff with a look of disgust. “Chablis,” he said, “the trouble with you is—”