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The woman on the stage pulled the ill-fitting man’s coat tighter around her. She stood at the far right, leaning with a casual posture against a support pillar, watching stage left from under the brim of her slouch hat. With her hair hidden under the hat and the collar of the coat obscuring her jaw line she looked rather like a man. She hid the knife in her coat pocket, but the audience knew it was there. Rose heard footsteps from stage left, the sound of high-heeled shoes on the boards. Her pulse quickened. The second woman entered, and when the spotlight moved to her a few people in the audience gasped; she was such a tiny thing, like a ballerina. Her arms were little, round, soft doll arms, and her legs looked delicate and frail. Her skin was pale white, like porcelain under the makeup and bright lights. She did not look at the audience or at the other woman onstage; she only looked down. She walked straight ahead, as if she thought of nothing else in the world except her. Why would have Aunt Kat and his mom put a tube of lubricating jelly in his purse, unless... Carl swallowed, terrified, immediately thinking back to when she had insisted he get a Brazilian wax at the salon, and the way his new gaff was cut for ‘minimal discomfort’!“Candi?” Tom called. “Babe, what’s wrong?”“Nothing!” Carl called back tremulously. “I, um, I can’t find my lip gloss!”“Babe, you look fine,” Tom sighed. “Don’t be silly, Candi. Jeez, you’re such ablonde sometimes.”“I’m coming,” Carl squeaked. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His wide blue eyes, framed by gorgeous dark lashes, had a look of unmistakable fear, but he was still completely beautiful: his cute button nose, delicate bone structure, pouty pink collagen-plumped lips, a cascade of bleached blonde hair, chandelier earrings that sparkled with every slight turn of his slender neck...He searched desperately for some trace of his old self, of Carl, but saw only ‘Candi’. If he was going to follow through with.
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