The Secret to Life
Rated TEEN
Written for Ponders_life
"So, sugar, you're new around here, aren't you?"
Blair glanced over at the carefully manicured transvestite, her gown a little outrageous in the slightly seedy atmosphere of the club. "Okay, that's sounding a little like a bad pick-up line," Blair said jokingly. Then again, he was standing in the middle of a gay bar, so he shouldn't be surprised by that.
"If I thought I could lure you away from the testosterone squad room, I'd use a much better pick-up line than that one," she said with a wink. "Miss Rose Gentle," she offered her hand with the palm down. No one could accuse Blair of missing subtle cultural cues, so he brought the enormous hand up and kissed it gently.
"Oh, honey, you have found yourself a keeper," a large black transvestite with eye-numbingly platinum hair laughed.
"And that," Miss Rose said with a wave toward the woman, "Is Chocolate Babe. Babe, if this weren't catch and release fishing around these parts, I might take this one home."
"So," Blair said when the two stopped laughing, "is this the part where the new cop gets all flustered and runs out of here or the part where I fill some sort of cop stereotype and get offended that you're insulting my manhood?" Blair asked with a laugh. Even though he was the butt of their joke, he couldn't resist both their enthusiasm and their not so subtle way of making sure the police avoided their place. The room was nearly empty, but a leatherman leaning against the bar turned to watch them curiously.
"Oh, this one's got a brain under that adorable mop of curls," Miss Rose said as she reached up and tugged a spiraling curl. The gentle pull reminded him of how Jim would do the same whenever he wanted to prove a point. 'See, Sandburg? I told you the Jags would pull it out in the end.' And then that large hand would reach over and tug his hair. At the time, Blair thought he'd been annoyed at the gesture, but now he couldn't help missing it.
"Just don't call me Frizz," Blair complained, and then wondered where that brain of his has suddenly gone because he had just doomed himself to that nickname for the rest of his life. Miss Rose just smiled innocently, which looked actually faintly disturbing on a six foot something inch wo/man wearing red lipstick and a gold sequined dress.
"I'll call you anything you want if it gets me a date," Miss Rose suggested, laying it on a little thick for Blair to take the offer seriously.
"Oh man, that would be the best offer of the last decade except that I'm not gay."
"Honey, everyone is gay given the right man to make the offer," she had moved around so that she stood next to him by the bar, and now she hip butted him. Blair thought about that for a second.
"I don't know about that. If I were going to change teams, I would have done it years ago. So, what exactly are you trying to keep me from seeing with your enthusiastic welcome?" Blair looked up at Miss Rose and suddenly he had the uncomfortable feeling of being studied. She looked down at him, pursing her red lips and frowning slightly. Blair fidgeted a little under the intense look. Then Miss Rose shook her head, her ornate hair combs rattling their hanging jewels.
"Nothing, sugar. Why don't you let me buy you a drink? Babe, you can come up with something non-alcoholic, can't you?" Miss Rose finally asked as she looked across the bar.
"If I look long enough," the transvestite behind the bar answered.
"No, I really should get going. I'm new around here, and I'm just trying to get to know the neighborhood a little bit. Roth calls it going on walkabout."
"Yeah, the others have wandered through from time to time," Miss Rose said, and Blair had an image of Russo coming in this place. It wasn't a good image.
"So I should—" Blair gestured toward the door, not sure why he suddenly felt exposed, naked.
"You should do what makes you happy, honey. That's the only secret to life," Miss Rose finished for him, and Blair fled.