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Episode 1 Synopsis: Fourteen Drag Race alums return for a chance at whole new crown and cash prize of $100,000! This season, however, there will be two winners: one hero and one villain. After a mini-challenge where the queens had to put themselves in order from most villainous to most virtuous, the queens plan for this week’s maxi-challenge: the talent show!

* * *

A red carpet had never been fully in Sharon Needles’ comfort zone, but it was even less so that evening. Queens from throughout Drag Race history were invited to the premiere of the latest spinoff: RuPaul’s Drag Race: Heroes vs Villains. They weren’t the only ones ones invited; celebrities and icons who were fans of the show would be walking, too.

This would be all well and good if Sharon could walk with Alaska—just a bit of a security blanket—but since she was actually on this show, she was expected to walk with the cast. There were friends, new and old, on it, but it would have been better with Alaska. It always was.

“Do you have that lipgloss on you?”

They stood in a makeshift pen as WoW staffers let them out in groups slowly. Sharon was one of the last to be released for obvious reasons: the spectacle. She, Jinkx Monsoon, and IT Girl, a queen from the most recent Drag Race season, were the final grouping to go out. Jinkx was the most prominent hero, after all—and Sharon and IT Girl would cause a stir as the most dastardly villains.

“I do,” Sharon said. She opened her purse and handed the purple gloss and her compact to IT Girl. “Use a light hand; it’s deceptively pigmented.”

Jinkx touched Sharon’s side to keep her still again and continued pulling her veil out behind her so it would lie straight as she walked. There was really no question who got Sharon through that series; without Jinkx, Sharon was sure she would have ended up even more hated than she had been when she entered the workroom. And frankly, without the new friendship in IT Girl, Sharon would have gone out of her mind on that set.

“Who makes this?” IT Girl asked as she spun the unbranded bottle to try to find a label. “It’s stunning.”

Sharon smiled. “It’s Alaska’s collaboration with a certain cosmetics queen. It’ll be out early next year.”

“Oh, I’ll be watching for it for sure,” IT Girl said. “Does this shade have a name?”

“‘Queen of Halloween,’” Sharon said. At IT Girl’s dreamy look, she had to laugh even though she had butterflies over sharing the name. “I know. Tell me about it. I live with her.”

“God, I’m so fucking nervous,” IT Girl admitted.

“It’s not your first time,” Sharon said.

“No, but it’s my first time after everyone’s seen my whole edit from my season,” IT Girl said.

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah, blame it on the edit. I’m having flashbacks. Phi Phi, is that you?”

“It’s easy, IT,” Jinkx said. “You just smile and play your role.”

“Okay, Glinda,” Sharon said dryly. “In fairness to IT though, your role doesn’t ever involve vitriol like ours does.”

Jinkx laughed. “Sharon, you did the hardest part with the tour and the actual filming. This is nothing.” She looked at IT Girl. “You’re fresh meat though.”

IT Girl groaned.

“Take advantage of that,” Jinkx stage whispered to Sharon. “Save yourself.”

Before IT Girl could get a quip back at Jinkx, the staff member pulled back the tarp and signaled for them to exit. Jinkx was first as the final hero in the cast. In all her velvet red glory, she beamed and stepped onto the carpet. IT Girl followed. She did not cut quite the same regal figure, but in a gold fringe mini-dress with long, gold braids against her dark skin, she was a vision.

“Over here,” a camera man called to Jinkx and IT Girl.

“How are you feeling?” someone else called to them.

Sharon flipped her sheer black veil over her head; it fell down to the floor and pooled around her feet. As she stepped out of the tent, the train Jinkx had laid dragged perfectly. The veil gave exactly the effect Sharon had wanted: one could see her silver hair and eyes, her glossy lip, and a sparkling crimson A on her chest—and that was it.

“Sharon Needles!” a photographer called. “Look over here.”

“Lift the veil,” another asked. “Please?”

“Just for a second! We want to see you!”

But Sharon didn’t. She lifted her chin instead and stared into the cameras without worry. They would capture her under the veil; it was thin, after all. She lifted her hands to frame her face in her signature, spooky, clawed way. The black gloves that Alaska had attached stiletto nails to only added to the sinister effect.

“Who are you wearing?” an MTV journalist asked.

Sharon clicked her tongue. “Well, I’m wearing Alaska Thunderfuck on my hands. I’m wearing her on my chest. My corset is Coco Smoko. The veil is Violet Chachki—and isn’t this stunning? She did all the embroidery. I don’t know if she’s told you a hundred times, but did you know she can sew?”

“Was this on purpose?” she asked. “All Ru Girls?”

“Did I purposefully source from my sisters and my girlfriend? Yes,” Sharon said. “I wanted to go back to my roots of mixing and matching. That had always been so fun when I was getting started. Who has that perfect piece? Now that Alaska and I are sharing a drag room again, I remembered the joy of that.”

“You wear the same sizes?”

Sharon snorted. “I’m bigger than her and she’s taller than me, but we can make it work sometimes. But it’s the best part! The giving someone a skirt. The taking a top. So I tapped some girls.”

“You met Coco Smoko on tour, right? She’s not a Pittsburgh queen.”

“No, no, she’s not,” Sharon said. “Yes, we met on tour after I yelled at her, Delong Wun, and…” She trailed off and looked up in the air in thought. “Ah, I can’t think of the third queen’s name, but I gave them a hard time for some gossip. It’s my role as the elder stateswoman, you see, but they’re good girls—except that third one.”

With that, Sharon pointed to the side and kept walking. She caught up with Jinkx to pose and interview together. They had been an obvious pairing in promo work if only because Jinkx was one of the few heroes that could work with Sharon—but also because they were the top sellers of their teams. Everyone loved Jinkx and wanted to see her perform. Everyone was shocked by Sharon’s casting and wanted to see what she’d do. Win-win.

“Sharon,” Detox called as she walked opposite the flow of traffic on the carpet “Alaska’s waiting for you. She wants to know if you’re talking too much or if this is genuine slowness.”

“Both,” Jinkx said brightly. “Sharon never met a microphone she didn’t like.”

Sharon looked into the nearest camera. “Does my disdain transfer through this veil? No? Mm.” She curled her lip and shrugged a shoulder. “Too bad.”

Sure enough, just up ahead, at the biggest gaggle of cameras and journalists—that term really was being used loosely here since she was talking about people who were excited to print ‘serving cunt’ and ‘house down boots’ to sound in the know—Alaska stood chatting with some from Entertainment Tonight. Her elbow-length gloves matched her slinky red dress perfectly, and best of all, those matched the A on Sharon’s chest.

As Sharon admired Alaska, she got to watch as she became aware of eyes on her, different eyes—eyes she knew well. That invisible thread, Sharon thought to herself with great amusement. When Alaska had shared that theory, she’d laughed and Alaska had smacked her. However, right now, as Alaska felt Sharon’s gaze and looked around until she caught sight of her, maybe Sharon really had been tugging on that thread. Embarrassingly, despite having quite literally seen Alaska just that morning, Sharon’s heart raced when Alaska’s face broke out into wide smile when she spotted Sharon. That was all for her.

“Here she comes now,” Alaska said, pointing at Sharon as she approached.

The flashbulb frequency picked up as Sharon stepped up to Alaska and took the extended hand. She squeezed it and bowed her head in dramatic greeting. Alaska laughed and squeezed her fingers back. Neither one of them reacted to the difference in grip strength anymore; it was simply accepted that Sharon would never be able to clutch Alaska’s hand like she used to.

“What do we have under here?” Alaska asked. “Can I see you?”

“You may,” Sharon said.

Alaska bent slightly to gather the veil and carefully lift it up over her face, over head, and to lay atop the rest of it behind Sharon. This exposed Sharon’s powder-white face and dark contour. She was painted for beauty but skeletal, uncanny. The crown that held the veil was simple black metal with black stones, but it was a crown all the same—quite a choice to wear on on such a red carpet. However, it was the large scarlet letter, the A, pinned to her corset that stole the focus. It was massive, stoned and sequined, and it sparkled under all the lights even without Sharon’s doing much moving. Along one of the long slopes of the A, in pretty cursive that was a far cry from Alaska’s usual penmanship, was Alaska.

“It wasn’t bad,” Sharon murmured. “Didn’t run into anyone, didn’t have any issues with photographers.”

“That’s a relief,” Alaska said. She straightened the A on her bodice and then patted it. “You look gorgeous.”

“Let’s give ‘em what they want,” Sharon said.

And they did. They took a few steps away from the others around them to pose together for photos. They hadn’t done anything official like this in over a decade, but it was like riding a bike. They shifted and angled and moved with each other without issue. When Alaska turned and took Sharon’s chin, Sharon angled her face up to meet her in the almost-kiss without hesitation.

“Everyone’s been following your relationship,” a man said when they approached the rope line to give comments.

“Everyone?” Sharon said in faux shock. “Is that why the gas station attendant was looking at me?”

“It’s probably because you look like one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” Alaska teased.

“Oh my God,” Sharon said in a Valley Girl accent that rivaled Alaska’s vocal fry. She held a hand up and scoffed. “Please do not use that gendered language with me. I’m a Horseperson of the Apocalypse.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Alaska said with amusement to the flustered interviewer. “Yeah, everyone’s been following it. There are comments every day, and sometimes I let Sharon read them to me if there’s a nice one or funny one.”

“You don’t read them?”

“No, she can’t,” Sharon said. “But I’m rotted to my core, so I read them and get mad and respond and my agent calls me. It’s a whole thing.”

“A whole thing,” Alaska emphasized.

“You know what I noticed though that’s really interesting?” Sharon pointed as she spoke. “When we were together before, it used to be ‘Sharon Needles’ girlfriend Alaska—’”

“Wife,” Alaska interjected. “I was Sharon Needles’ wife.”

“And now it’s ‘Alaska’s girlfriend Sharon Needles’ in all the press. Isn’t that funny?” Sharon finished.

“Oh, yeah, I loved that one that called you ‘Alaska’s girlfriend and Season 4 Winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race,’” Alaska said. She laughed and put a hand over her chest. “I was like ‘Wait, hold on, I think that’s backwards.’”

“Well, I was your girlfriend before I was ever a winner,” Sharon said. “And, well, life’s funny: I’m your girlfriend once again when I am not a winner.”

“Spoiler alert?” the interviewer asked.

“Only in the game of life, my dear,” Sharon said sweetly.

“What’s the outfit inspiration for you two tonight? Alaska?”

Alaska looked at Sharon and then herself. “Please, I’m just the arm candy tonight. I just wanted to look good and go with her look.”

“Sharon?”

“Well, it’s a few things,” Sharon said. She slipped her arm around Alaska’s waist to rub her side. “Demon priestess was the general goal.” She signaled to her skeletal makeup, her veil.  “But the big part is my scarlet letter.” She ran a nail carefully over the A. “For Alaska, of course, and I made her make it and—”

“Made me!” Alaska interjected again with a laugh. She clung to Sharon for effect. “Forced me. A regular drill sergeant!”

Sharon smiled. “And it’s for all those Redditors and commenters who have a lot to say about us getting back together. They say I should be ashamed of myself for dragging Alaska into ‘this’ again? Well, first of all, Alaska’s a full person who can make her own decisions.”

“Right,” Alaska said, nodding.

“And second of all, close your laptops and go outside and look at the sky. Go talk to real humans in real life. Trust me when I say you will live a happier life if you do that.” Sharon smiled. “So my A is owning that supposed ‘shame’ and keeping it close. Right over my heart where Alaska belongs.”

Alaska could only smile as she gazed at Sharon through hooded lids.

They continued on together, arm in arm, stopping to pose and chat with other queens occasionally. They allowed one more interview because they saw the orange WoW microphone and the young queen behind it. She couldn’t be legal; she had to be a teenager. Was this a Make-a-Wish situation? Sharon held her tongue because she knew that joke would infuriate Alaska—in public, at least; she’d tell it later and Alaska would laugh. Alaska smiled brilliantly as they approached the queen.

“Oh my God,” Alaska said. “Look at you with that mug. You’re coming for these girls. Show us the future of drag, mama.”

The queen’s face bloomed with color, and Sharon had to stop herself from laughing. It was sweet.

“Thank you,” the queen managed. “You two l-look fierce.”

Sharon opened her mouth, but Alaska pinched her. She closed her mouth and busied herself with pulling at the ends of her wig. It was suddenly very important to consider how these curls were laying. See? Exactly why she hadn’t made the Make-a-Wish joke. Alaska didn’t play with her image anymore.

“Thank you!” Alaska said. “You’re so nice. You’re with WoW?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yes,” the queen said. She couldn’t stop staring at Alaska. “I’m a junior correspondent and, and, uhm, I have a question for Sharon Needles.”

Sharon leaned to the side to meet her eyes. “Here I am.”

“She only looks like she bites,” Alaska stage-whispered. “She may look spooky, but she’s really nice!”

“What moment are you most excited for viewers to see from this season?” she asked.

Sharon smiled and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked up in thought. That was a tricky question to answer. Some obvious moments came to mind, but she couldn’t spoil anything.

“Oh, okay,” Sharon said. She met the (literal) baby queen’s eyes again. “There’s this moment where we discuss Alaska and whether she would have been a hero or a villain.”

Alaska gasped. “You didn’t tell me about that!”

“Good points were made on both sides,” Sharon said, “and I can’t wait for that. I hope it made the cut because I’m sure fans will have a lot to say about it.”

“Where did you think she’d be?”

“She’d be a hero,” Sharon said. “No question in my mind. You’ll have to wait to see the moment on the show to hear my reasoning and the reasoning for her being a villain though.”

“Okay!” The queen smiled. “Thank you!”

“Thank you, honey,” Sharon said. “Now, off the record, how old are you?”

“Eighteen,” she said with a nod.

Sharon winked. “Sure you are.”

Sharon and Alaska walked the last few feet of the carpet and stepped into the venue. It was a viewing party, but rather than renting a theatre, they had gone with a hall to serve dinner. After enough years of drinking without food at these events, planners had wised up and allotted money to a real dinner. Tables had been arranged to allow dining and viewing via the massive screen at the front of the room. Beyond cordoning off tables for cast members and their plus-ones, the seats weren’t assigned. Only time would tell if that had been a wise choice.

“Alaska!”

Sharon and Alaska turned in unison to see Adore waving from one of the cast tables. She got up and scurried over to them to hug Alaska and smile at Sharon. She pulled back and turned that smile on Alaska, looking her up and down.

“Pittsburgh’s not treating you terrible, I guess,” Adore said. “You look fucking good!”

“Pittsburgh’s never treated me terribly in my life,” Alaska drawled. “That’s home. Cali’s always just been a runaway spot.” She squeezed Adore’s hands. “You, however, are being done right here, girl. Look at you. I mean, I’ve seen your photos lately, but Sharon said you were prettier in person. I didn’t believe her, and shit, she’s right.”

“We’d come into the workroom looking like scum,” Sharon said, “and Adore’s gliding through looking like an angel. So unfair.”

“Not true,” Adore said. “I’m dreading the ball episode. I know not one of us is gonna look cute that day cause we were running on two hours of sleep after a fourteen hour day.”

Alaska hummed. “I’m starting to wonder why I’m so open to an All Winners season…”

“No, please, if they do it again, you have to,” Adore said. “I need you on my screen again. Twice wasn’t enough!”

“Who’s the guy?” Alaska asked, inclining her head ever so slightly to the man who sat at the table where Adore had been.

While Alaska and Adore chatted, Sharon slipped away with a little tap to Alaska’s back. She walked the tables, eyeing the different queens already seated, until she stopped at Violet’s. They met eyes and both nodded. Sharon put her purse down to save Alaska’s seat and then sat beside Violet.

“Do you know what’s really fun?” Violet asked. She continued before Sharon could even open her mouth. “It’s really fun to get stood up before a red carpet.”

Sharon’s eyes widened. “No, he didn’t. Are you sure he just couldn’t figure this zoo out?”

“Well, the text saying…” Violet trailed off as she plucked her phone from her bag to scroll. “Saying ‘Sorry, not going to be able to make it. Next time, babes? xx’ made it pretty clear to me.”

“What an asshole,” Sharon said. “He says he’s ‘not going to be able to make it’ like this isn’t an event that he’s been aware of for—what? Weeks?”

“It’s just embarrassing,” Violet said as she nodded. She tapped her fingers on the table with such speed and force that several nearby turned to look at them. “He didn’t even give a reason. Like, he didn’t say if something happened or anything.”

“Nothing happened,” Sharon said. “He’s blowing you off. Delete his number.”

“But I like him,” Violet said. “That’s what’s so fucking stupid about it!”

Sharon grimaced. “You’re right. You are being fucking stupid. He stood you up before a red carpet, a viewing of the show you’re on, and the after-party you’re hosting? Delete his number. Throw him away. You can land anyone.”

“People always say that, but clearly I can’t because this keeps happening to me,” Violet whined. She pursed her lips. “I don’t get it. I don’t get what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Sharon said. She rolled her eyes. “Well, your taste in men is questionable, but there’s nothing about you that deserves the poor treatment.”

Alaska slid into the seat beside Sharon and took Sharon’s hand in both of hers to massage her fingers.

“I mean, I guess at least he told me?” Violet said.

“Let’s talk about what happened to you to make you think that that is something to be excited about,” Sharon said with faux enthusiasm. “‘Oh, at least he told me last minute that he wasn’t going to show up for me.’ Who hurt you?”

“The entire California dating scene?” Violet suggested.

Alaska hummed. “Oh, so true. It’s brutal out here. I fucking haaaated dating here. It really messes with your mind.”

Sharon had never dated in California, but she had been privy to Alaska’s stories over the years between their breakup and reconnection. She certainly had been horrified a fair number of times by what Alaska told her. Her favorite horror story was one Alaska had told about a man who had taken her home to meet his family in Colorado at Christmas—and then ghosted her by Valentine’s Day! Straight up stopped answering her! A box of Alaska’s things had turned up on her front step and that was that. Sharon had been speechless—not an easy feat—and she had looked at Chad, who looked equally scandalized as he prompted Alaska for more information, and thought thank God I have him.

“Like, objectively, I know it’s bad, and I’m pissed, but I’m also like, ‘Oh, okay, so he reached out to tell me and that’s something,’” Violet said. She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I’m supposed to be single for life. Maybe boyfriend-life isn’t for me.”

“Maybe you need to do the obvious and date outside of California,” Alaska suggested. “Give another scene a try. Go set up a residency in New York or London or Chicago.”

“I wish I could run back to Atlanta and pick up with an ex,” Violet said. She glared at them both, but there was no fire in it for them. “That would be so much simpler! But all of my exes are losers.”

“To be fair, so are Alaska’s,” Sharon said with a smirk, “and she made it work.”

“Oh, stop.” Alaska smacked Sharon’s arm.

Violet sighed and pushed to her feet. Both Sharon and Alaska tensed as she wobbled slightly. One look at her feet explained it: ballet spike heels. Violet had herself corseted to the gods and up en pointe, essentially. She was a patent-leather fetish nightmare—or daydream, if that’s what you were into.

“Let me go with you,” Sharon said quickly. “You walked the carpet like this?”

Violet waved her off. “No, I’m fine. Sit. I’m going to get drinks. What do you want?”

“Whatever beer they’ve got. There’s only going to be one,” Sharon said. “And Alaska’s not drinking, so find her something fruity and fun.”

“That’s my tagline,” Alaska drawled. “Fruity and fun.”

“That is not your tagline, bitch,” Violet said. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

They watched her walk away, both ready to jump up to come to her aid. However, with every step, Violet’s confidence returned. Within three, she looked like their usual Violet strutting through the crowd. Sharon turned to face Alaska and slotted her legs between Alaska’s.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard her tell a good story about someone she’s seeing,” Sharon said. “She’ll talk well about hookups and casual guys, but once she decides to try dating one?”

“It’s so sad,” Alaska said. She clicked her tongue. “She has a lot to offer. She’s a lot of fun; and she’s funny; and she’s pretty cultured; and she’s got an interesting point of view.”

“She’s a bitch,” Sharon said. “That’s something to consider.”

“She is! She is!” Alaska laughed. “But there are people who like that. Plus, she’s hot in and out of drag.”

For a moment, neither said anything. Sharon only watched as Alaska pulled off Sharon’s glove with great care to better massage her fingers. She wished Alaska hadn’t though because it only exposed her blotchy skin which never failed to sour Alaska’s face. Her median nerve was the on that had been damaged in her flurry of punching. Turns out, that’s a pretty crucial one. It was the one connected to the thumb, index finger, and middle finger—and it went through the wrist up to the shoulder! The doctor thought it was likely that Sharon had already had a weakness there and was on her way to carpal tunnel syndrome even before the fight. That had just pushed her along.

“This circulation, baby,” Alaska said.

“It’s all right,” Sharon said. “It’s not bad today. Numbness, no pain.”

“I guess,” Alaska said, unconvinced.

Violet returned with a can of beer under her arm, a glass of wine, and a frothy, pink mocktail. She distributed them and flopped back into her seat. She put her hand over her ribs and sucked in as deep a breath as she could given her fashion circumstances.

“You know,” Alaska said. She sipped her drink. “I love that you’re making my no-alcohol life a frilly-drink life for me, Sharon. I barely drink these when they have alcohol in them.”

Sharon leaned over to sip from Alaska’s straw. “But they’re fucking good. What are you gonna do? Drink a soda? O’Doul’s? I hate when you drink O’Doul’s.”

Alaska laughed. “Oh, sorry my drink choices annoy you.”

“You going sober?” Violet asked.

“I do this off and on,” Alaska said. “Sometimes it just feels good to take a break. It’s nothing official or anything. There’s no timetable.”

The lights blinked twice and an announcement was made for everyone to find seats. For the next several minutes, it was a mad dash to find seats and for servers to put out the family-style platters. Sharon and Alaska were pleased to find individual vegetarian plates were brought for them.

“It’s come a long way since my season,” Sharon said dryly.

“You’re allowed to subsist on more than bread alone!” Gia, who had taken a seat on Alaska’s other side, joked.

The lights dimmed and the screen flickered to life with legalese about recording or live-tweeting during the premiere. Then there was the pre-recorded message from RuPaul welcoming everyone to the event and promising twists, turns, and drama in this latest specialty season. Then the episode opened with the usual parade of entrances and confessional introductions. The workroom, however, had been split in two by color: half red and half blue. There were cheers after each girl’s entrance.

For the heroes, there was Adore Delano, Jinkx Monsoon, Peppermint, Tayce, Olivia Lux, Crystal Methyd, and Faye Tality. For the villains, there was Gia Gunn, Violet Chachki, IT Girl, Daya Betty, Mistress Isabelle Brooks, and Detox. They stood around the table chatting idly, posturing, eyeing each other’s looks.

* * *

“Is this everyone?” Peppermint asked. She craned her neck as she started counting heads. “This is thirteen. There’s no way they did thirteen for this one.”

“No,” Mistress Isabelle Brooks said. “There’s… There’s gotta be one more.”

“A hero or a villain?” Tayce asked. “Split. Villains, go to your side.”

The villains walked over to their side of the workroom. Seven heroes, six villains.

“A villain,” Gia Gunn said. “We’re missing one.”

“Luxx,” Mistress guessed.

“What about… Roxxxy?” Daya suggested.

“Kandy Muse,” Olivia Lux guessed.

The camera zoomed in on a smiling Violet Chachki. She leaned over to Detox to whisper, and Detox shook her head. While Violet’s first words hadn’t been picked up by the mics, the rest was.

“But what if it is?” Violet whispered.

“No, because I asked her if she got the email,” Detox whispered back, “and she said no.”

“I guess it would be a PR nightmare.” Violet shrugged. “Still, if there was ever a season to bring her back for, it would—”

The queens turned in unison at the sounds of clicking heels. They waited on bated breath to see… Sharon Needles walk around the corner and up the aisle between the two sides. She held her hands out and smiled brightly at the camera.

“Boo!” Sharon said. “Did you miss me? No?”

“Oh my God,” Adore Delano yelled. Her face was equal parts shock and delight. “You’re fucking kidding me. This is INSANE.”

“I knew it!” Violet shook Detox’s arm. “I told you!”

Sharon only laughed as she looked at the heroes’ side and then the villains’ side. Interspersed with this scene was her confessional where she claimed she was on the heroes side. She walked over to the blue side of the room as everyone from both teams screamed.

“No way!” Peppermint screamed. “Girl, there is no way.”

Sharon walked right up to Peppermint and hugged her. They had worked together several times, so she was an easy one to play off  of right now. Peppermint hugged her briefly but then held her at an arm’s length.

“No way they put you on the heroes team,” Peppermint said seriously. “Get over there, witch.”

“Did none of you watch my season?” Sharon said airily. “Of course I’m a hero. My season’s villain was Phi Phi O’Hara with Willam biting at her heels. Almost literally.”

The rest of her confessional played where she laughed and proclaimed herself a villain, the villain, and then she was shown walking across the workroom to join the villains.

“I didn’t realize we were taking ‘villain’ quite so literally,” Olivia said even as she smiled sweetly. “Wow, okay, this is going to be an interesting season.”

The siren sounded and the queens, like Pavlov’s dogs, lined up at the far end of the room without hesitation or direction. But instead of a video message from Ru, the door opened to Michelle Visage herself greeting them.

“Hello, ladies!” She cried from the top the stairs. She waved and walked down to stand before them. “Welcome to RuPaul’s Drag Race: Heroes vs Villains. I trust you’ve found your tribe without issue?”

“Well, Sharon was a little confused, but she got there in the end,” Jinkx said.

“Why am I not surprised?” Michelle said dryly. She laughed. “We’re getting things under way right from the start. For this week’s mini-challenge, you need to put your team in order. If you’re a villain, who on your team is the most villainous and who is the least? If you’re a hero, who on your team is most virtuous and who is the least? You will have one minute.”

The queens looked amongst each other.

“Aaaand go!” Michelle clapped her hands together.

The heroes spread out to look each other over and started talking through logic The villains, however, were already lining up.

“Where’s ‘most’ and where’s ‘least’?” Detox asked as she signaled to their line.

“Most on the right,” Gia said. “Least on the left.”

“Sharon get on the right,” Mistress said.

Sharon cackled and walked over to the right. “Okay, but put Violet on the far left. She wasn’t even the villain of her season.”

It cut to Mistress’ confessional and her saying, “Well, why would we waste time playing with feelings? Sharon’s the most villainous. Signed, sealed, delivered, bitch.”

Across the aisle, the heroes were struggling to find an order. The same question kept coming up: how do you decide how good someone is?

“We just need to commit to a line.” Faye Tality said. “At this point, let’s pretend it barely means anything.”

In Jinkx’s confessional, she laughed and said, “Surprise! The heroes don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings and say that someone isn’t nice enough.”

“Ten seconds!” Michelle Visage called.

Olivia and Crystal Methyd screamed and jumped into the line, both laughing.

The villains were already lined up and watching the heroes with amusement. Detox leaned forward to meet Sharon’s eyes; they smirked.

“We’re the better team,” Detox said as she leaned back. “We worked together without any issues.”

“Villains get shit done,” IT Girl said.

“And time!”

Michelle stepped forward to walk along the villains line and then the hero’s line.

“It’s good to know that I am intimidated by Michelle Visage in every space,” Faye said in her confessional. “I’m glad I’m consistent—finally!”

“Villains, you said your most villainous member is Sharon Needles,” Michelle said from her spot up front again, “and heroes, you said your most virtuous member is Adore Delano.”

Silence hung in the air.

“Will Adore and Sharon please come forward?” Michelle asked.

“Watch, we just eliminated them,” Mistress said.

Peppermint covered her mouth in horror. “No!”

In her confessional, Daya Betty said, “Look, if that’s how we get rid of Sharon, great! I don’t want to work with that bitch. I don’t like her. I think she’s tired. That ‘Queen of Halloween’ shit? That’s worn-out. I think she’s got a bad attitude. Bye bye, dead bitch.”

“What do I think of Daya?” Sharon repeated in her confessional. She shook her head. “I don’t know her or her drag. I just know she’s Crystal’s drag daughter, right?” Her face lit up with recognition. “Oh, that’s funny. Crystal’s a hero and Daya’s a villain? Love that.”

“I have a lot of history with both these girls,” Michelle said, signaling to Sharon and Adore. “It’s pretty shocking to have them up here with me right now.”

* * *

“They can’t be!” a queen in the audience cried out.

“Bitch!” another yelled. “Adore and Sharon on Episode 1?! They can’t do it.”

Sharon sipped her beer and then rolled her head to the side to meet Alaska’s gaze. Alaska grinned at her and then looked back at the screen. She pressed her knee to Sharon’s under the table.

“They can’t eliminate them like this.”

“Ssssh! Shut up!”

* * *

“As this is a new series, we wanted to switch it up,” Michelle said, “and you all made this decision. Their blood is on your hands—heroes and villains, alike.” Her face was straight. “But first, Adore, how does it feel to be chosen at the most virtuous?”

“Honestly? It’s kinda shocking.” Adore laughed. “I mean, me? Of all them? I’m the most heroic or whatever? I don’t know about that. I think it could be Olivia. She’s such a sweetheart.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re up there now,” Detox said with a smirk.

The queens laughed.

“No, I’m serious!” Adore said. “Me over her? Or over Jinkx? Or—I better stop naming because if I don’t say a name, that’ll be so sad.”

“I think that’s why you’re up here, sweetheart,” Sharon said dryly.

“What about you, Sharon? How does it feel to be the most villainous?” Michelle asked.

Sharon waved her off. “Oh, it’s nothing. This is expected. I’m the free spot on the Bingo card, Michelle. If anything, ah—” She pointed to IT Girl. “She should be contemplating it all because she’s the one they put after me on the villain scale.”

“What’s her name?” Mistress asked gleefully.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sharon said. “I just walked in minutes before this—and well, maybe I’m about to walk out, so I don’t know that it matters.”

“Did you watch the last season?” Michelle asked.

“No,” Sharon said. The queens laughed and she held up her hands. “What? I’ve got a life.”

“You’re not booked,” Faye Tality said, crossing her arms across her chest. “What did you have to do? Carry Alaska’s bags?”

“First of all,” Sharon began, holding up a finger, “that’s why they put you at the least virtuous side of the line. Second of all, I didn’t see you on the Anniversary Tour. My calendar’s full. Don’t you worry about it.”

Michelle interjected then: “Well, with all that over with, Adore Delano and Sharon Needles… will be the captains for this week’s maxi-challenge.”

“Shit,” Daya said in her confessional. “Why aren’t I the worst person in Drag Race herstory? Fuck!”

Sharon and Adore both spun inward to look at Michelle and then out again at their groups.

“Each team will have two groups,” Michelle continued. “Adore and Sharon will choose the members they want for their groups. Whoever remains will compromise the second groups.”

“Wow, okay,” Adore said. She nodded slowly.

“Now, these are teams of seven, so you will choose if you want three queens or four queens on your team. Who would like to go first?” Michelle asked.

“Sharon can,” Adore said quickly as she scanned the heroes.

“Are you ready, Sharon?” Michelle asked.

“Do we get to know what the challenge is?” Sharon asked.

Michelle smiled. “No. Do you want four or three queens?”

“Four,” she said. She looked at her villains and pointed at the girl she didn’t know. “Who is she?”

“IT Girl,” Michelle said.

Sharon furrowed her brow. “Like tech support?”

In her confessional, IT Girl sighed and said, “Yeah, like, I’m an ‘it girl’ but I’m also an IT girl. Ya know? I’m that girl, but I’m also that girl who can fix your MacBook.”

“I want Violet… Detox… and Gia with me,” Sharon said.

IT Girl laughed and threw up her hands. “You wanted my name and you weren’t even going to pick me?”

“Oh, I see,” Mistress said. “Old versus new.”

Daya rolled her eyes hard.

Michelle turned to Adore. “And yours? Three or four?”

“I want…” Adore trailed off. “This is so hard! Jinkx and Peppermint.”

“Now what did we win?” Sharon asked.

“You won… a talent show maxi-challenge!” Michelle announced. “Now that you are in four groups, you will need to bring your talents together to create a cohesive show that showcases each group member’s talent.”

Sharon turned to her group with a big smile.

“It’s done. We win,” Violet said. “Singing, dancing, looks? It’s over for those bitches.”

IT Girl shrugged in her confessional and said, “If this is queens eliminating queens, I better hope I’m not in the bottom. Hello! One of them didn’t even know my name! Shit!”

* * *

Rather than the next scene, a fifteen-minute timer appeared on the screen and the lights came up. Servers hurried out to clear plates and discarded cans and glasses. Queens got up to stretch, get more drinks, and to chat.

“I wonder how it looked on film,” Violet mused. “Like, I wonder if it’ll look as good as it felt.”

“Spoiler alert!” Alaska said in faux-horror.

“Oh, shut up,” Violet said. “Sharon told you everything.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sharon said, “because what if we broke up and she leaked it all on Reddit? That’s not a victimless crime.”

“Sharon!” Alaska’s face turned bright red.

“Of course it is! She still got the crown!” Violet said. “The whole boot order was out there, and they still let this bitch win.”

“Ssh,” Alaska said. She reached across Sharon to playfully smack Violet’s hand. “Don’t let them hear. Some of us don’t get these calls.”

Sharon sipped her beer and tried not to react. As much as she tried not to think about it, that was on her mind relatively often: her getting the call over Alaska—again. It had worried her the first time—and her worries had come true then—and it worried her again now. But Sharon could not focus on that now. She was under a microscope; she could feel the eyes on her, could hear her name in the background as the audience, a jury of her peers, discussed her.

She could feel hands on her shoulders and she leaned back to look up to find IT Girl.

“Wait, did you know Daya was beefing with you on Day-fucking-1?” IT asked.

“Girl,” Violet said. She blinked hard. “Daya wanted our girl DOA.”

“Well, I am though,” Sharon said in her airy, transatlantic accent. “I’ve been dead since… 2010?” She narrowed her eyes. “I actually don’t remember when I killed her.”

IT Girl looked at Alaska and her eyes bugged out of her head. She held out her hand and said, “Oh my God, hiiiie, I’m IT Girl. Oh my God.”

“Hiiiieeeee.” Alaska grinned at her as she shook her hand. “My name’s IT Girl, what’s Alaska?”

Sharon had to give it to Alaska: she always gave a fan exactly what they wanted, even if that fan was another Ru Girl. Some girls, Sharon included, got sick of their own catchphrases or gimmicks coming back at them, but Alaska took it all in stride. Sharon had never seen Alaska make anyone feel bad for their fangirling over her—even when Sharon had had to hold back a reaction.

Again, this was why Sharon didn’t doubt that Alaska would have been a hero.

Alaska was an angel.

“Sharon tells me you’re an interesting queen,” Alaska said. She kept her fingers curled around IT Girl’s. “I watched your season by the way. It was on in the house every week; and then I recorded podcasts about it. At this point, I think Sharon stays ignorant just to spite me.”

“Now that doesn’t sound like me,” Sharon said absently.

“You watched my season,” IT Girl said. “Alaska watched my season.”

“Of course I did, doll.” Alaska chuckled. “If you listen to the podcast one day, you’d even hear me talk you up.”

“I will when I can manage to listen to anything about the season. Oh, I love your lipgloss, by the way,” IT Girl said quickly, like she might run out of time to tell Alaska. “Sharon let me borrow it before we walked and it’s just perfect and—I need to walk away. This is so bad.”

With that, IT Girl really did walk away. Alaska watched, mouth agape, as she hurried away from the table. She looked at Sharon and then Violet for a clue.

“It was worse than I though it would be,” Violet admitted. “She was pretty crazy about you on the show, but I kinda thought she’d be able to play it cool.”

Sharon shook her head. “Oh, no, I knew there was no chance. You’re her favorite winner, favorite queen, everything.”

“She started drag because of you, Lask,” Violet said. “It would be really sweet if I didn’t have to witness it because that was so embarrassing that I kinda feel like I need fresh air.”

“Oh, she didn’t tell me that,” Sharon said. She frowned. “I feel bad now. I teased her constantly for having a crush on you.”

Alaska put her hand over her heart. “Wait, I can’t cope with that. They’re old enough to have started drag because of me and be on Drag Race?”

“I don’t know how many times I can tell you we’re old before you’ll believe me,” Sharon said.

“I think I believe you now,” Alaska said with a sigh. When Sharon put her arm around her, she leaned against her. “I’m gonna go buy a sports car for my midlife crisis.”

“That’s so impractical in Pittsburgh, baby,” Sharon said. “The hills.”

“A midlife crisis isn’t supposed to be practical!”

The lights flashed as the timer hit zero. Show time.

* * *

Team Sharon Needles:

“You’re singing, right?” Detox said to Sharon.

“Yes,” Sharon said, “but I can be a little flexible. I want to do one of my songs from Absolute Zero though. Disco, all that.” She pointed at Violet. “What are you doing?”

“Aerial,” Violet said.

“Shut up,” Gia said. “They’re letting you do that?”

“Got a rig and everything,” Violet said. She shrugged a shoulder and fluttered her lashes. “See? We’re gonna win. Live vocals, unique talent, and…”

“Dance,” Gia said.

Detox nodded. “Mine doesn’t work with all that, but that’s okay. I can pivot. I’ll dance. I can back you up, too, Sharon.”

“I feel the temperature rising. I feel your body beside me. It’s freaky and I like it—so freaky, I like it,” Sharon sang. She tapped her foot to the beat. “Love me to death. Death is forever. Love me to death. I’m flamin’ hot, I’m hot as hell.”

“Yes,” Violet said. “I can work with that. Can you come up with a dance to that?”

Gia and Detox looked at each other and nodded.

* * *

Team IT Girl:

“I was lip syncing,” Mistress said.

“Me too,” Daya said, “but a funny one.”

“Bitch,” Mistress said dryly. “You don’t think I’d be doing funny?”

IT Girl was watching them through her fingers.

In her confessional, IT Girl said, “Sorry, this is basically an All-Stars-esque season, right? We’re with the greats!”

The camera flashed to show Jinkx, Peppermint, Violet, Detox.

“And these two were like ‘A lip sync is enough,’” IT Girl continued in a cutesy voice. She groaned and threw her hands up in the air. “This is why they don’t have crowns? You know who do in this cast? All the queens with actual talents and points of view! I hate it here. Who do I need to suck off to get on the OG Villain team?” A beat. “Am I allowed to say that?”

“What were you gonna do, IT?” Mistress asked

“Sing,” IT Girl said. She tapped her fingers on the table. “We need to get a song we all know because what if, what if I sing and you guys lip sync to me? Like some sort of duel thing?”

“That’s not bad,” Mistress said.

Daya hummed. “It all depends on the song and the execution.”

* * *

Team Adore Delano:

“We all sing,” Adore said to Jinkx and Peppermint excitedly. “We’re gonna slay.”

“We need to do a musical,” Jinkx said. “I don’t know what, but if we can put on a little scene?”

“That’ s impressive,” Peppermint said. “What if we do—What if we use Wicked? That’s drag queen fodder for sure."

“Oh, shit, girl,” Adore said. “We could do that. We could do some of‘Popular’ and…?”

“‘Defying Gravity,’” Jinkx said.

“I’m not tackling that one last minute” Peppermint said. “You two have to do that.”

“So you’re making me over,” Adore said to Peppermint before looking at Jinkx,“and then I’m going to sing with my bestie.”

“Too late for second-guessing. Too late to go back to sleep. It’s time to trust my instincts; close my eyes and leap,” Jinkx sang.

“It’s time to try defying gravity,” Adore sang. “I think I’ll try defying gravity.”

In her confessional, Crystal covered her face and said, “Jinkx’s vocals? We’re so screwed.”

* * *

Team Tayce:

“Girl group,” Tayce said without hesitation. “We’re too different. We Spice Girls it. All a different type, all a different vibe.”

“Lip sync?” Olivia asked.

“Sure, so long as we sell it hard. Funny, campy, crazy,” Tayce said.

In her confessional, Tayce said, “Look, we have to do it that way. Of every group, we’re the most disjointed. What else are we to do? Beauty queens, campy queen, drag clowns? We have to lean into it. Christ, I can’t believe Adore took the powerhouses for her group. Ahh!”

“Are we actually going to do a Spice Girls song?” Crystal asked. “Or is that just the vibe we want?”

“Wanna Be?” Tayce suggested. “Lot of room for personality in that and we’ll need it.”

* * *

“Condragulations Team Adore and Team Sharon,” Michelle said. “You are the winners of this challenge. Both groups put on mesmerizing, interesting shows that highlighted each of your member’s skills. You may go to the back of the stage.”

In her confessional, Sharon let out a long groan and slumped in her chair. She said, “I promised Alaska one thing, and that’s that I’d bring home a cruise and—” She laughed. “No, no, that I’d make it past the first episode. I’m a winner, baby.”

Michelle looked at the remaining two groups on the stage and said, “Tonight, the bottom hero and bottom villain will lip sync for their life.”

“There are some fierce lip syncers on the villain’s side,” Faye said in her confessional. “I don’t want to get all caught up in that!”

* * *

A five minute timer went up.

The cheering for the winning teams had died down and now there was the murmuring as people discussed who was the bottom of each losing group.

Alaska had pulled her chair closer to Sharon’s so she could better hold onto her. She couldn’t help it; she was touchy, especially so when she was emotional. Nobody could deny Alaska her emotions now. Other than Sharon herself, of course, nobody had been more devastated by Sharon’s fall from grace than Alaska. Seeing her on the screen killing it? Alaska was sure she had permanent heart-eyes.

“Winning the first challenge in both of your seasons?” Alaska whispered in Sharon’s ear. “What a show-off.”

Sharon turned inward to Alaska to kiss her. Lipstick be damned. They weren’t exactly known for being coiffed, perfect drag queens. So what if she ended up with blood-red on her? She never turned down a chance to wear blood after all.

“You two are so gross,” Violet stage-whispered, “and I hate you.”

“Poor Violet,” Alaska said against Sharon’s lips.

“She was stood up,” Sharon reminded Alaska when they parted.

“What? Not even a euphemism?” Violet pouted. “Ouch.”

“That is the euphemism,” Sharon said dryly. “I didn’t say, ‘Her date abandoned her the night of the event,’ did I?”

* * *

“Daya Betty…” Michelle said. “Shantay, you stay.”

Daya crouched down and let her head hang over her knees for a moment before she straightened up and looked across the stage at Tayce.

“Tayce, you are a phenomenal queen with beauty, grace, and face, face, face,” Michelle said. “We know we’ll continue to see you everywhere. Now sashay away.”

In her confessional, Tayce sighed but smiled. She said, “It’s not how I thought this was going to go, but I’m glad I at least went home putting myself out there, you know? That was my idea for the girl group, and I own that. That’s okay. Somebody has to go home first, and, well, maybe it was always going to be the Brit!”

* * *

With the event over, Sharon slipped through the crowd with one goal: IT Girl. She could hear her voice—very distinctly masculine despite her very feminine frame; Sharon liked the juxtaposition—but couldn’t see her. As she walked, some queens congratulated her while others shared their surprise that she made it through the first episode.

“You think they went through the PR nightmare for only one ep?” Sharon laughed. “Oh, no, they had to get more out of me than that.”

She finally found IT Girl and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around and broke into a big smile. Sharon was glad to see all the nerves she’d been carrying were gone now that it was all over; maybe that meant she’d actually be able to talk to Alaska.

“Which after party are you going to?” Sharon asked. “Alaska wants to chat.”

IT Girl’s eyes widened. “With me?”

“But please smoke a fat blunt first,” Sharon said. “Chill out. She’s a person.”

IT Girl’s cheeks turned a deep magenta, and of course, as usual, Sharon was left feeling like she’d fucked up again. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. These new queens were so sensitive—all of them! Even the ones who were veterans now! The late 2010s and 2020s had produced so much sanitation in drag that Sharon couldn’t take it sometimes. But that wasn’t a problem for now—nor for IT Girl.

“Make sure you end up at Violet and Gottmik’s party,” Sharon said. “We’ll be there.”

Sharon air-kissed IT Girl (because she knew how to play the game in these circles) and slipped into the crowd once more to return to Alaska. She didn’t make it halfway across the room before she felt Alaska’s hand in hers. She smiled up at her and huffed a laugh.

“You’re far too tall to be that stealthy,” Sharon said fondly. “Witchcraft.”

“Maybe your senses are just dulled by alcohol,” Alaska teased. “Ready to go?”

“Hell yes,” Sharon said.

* * *

“Coming up on RuPaul’s Drag Race: Heroes vs Villains!”

“Oh, yes, you’re very good and everyone’s so impressed that you’ve never made a mistake in your life,” Sharon said with a wave of her hand. “Yes, you never took a chance or did something risky because Mommy and Daddy were there to catch you when you fell.”

“Bitch, don’t. What do you even know about adversity?” Daya asked.

Sharon laughed bitterly. “What do I know? What do I know?”

“Sharon,” Jinkx warned as she hurried around the tables in the workroom to get to her.

“I didn’t finish high school! My guidance counselor told me I was the problem and I distracted the other students. That’s why they had to torture me. That’s why I had to drop out. Think of their education.” She smiled darkly. “I lived on the goddamn streets in several cities. You don’t know ‘adversity.’” Sharon threw her hands up in the air. “Don’t go acting like I’ve lived some privileged life because it makes it easier for you. It would make it easier for everyone to, to, to write me off and throw me away—”

“Sharon,” Jinkx said softly, touching her arm.

“Don’t,” Sharon said to Jinkx as she shrugged off her hand. She looked at Daya again. “It would make it easier to throw me away if you didn’t have to think about me through the same lens you think about every other fucking person. Everyone else gets context and considerations and, and, and— So if I’m human with a fucked up life, well, that sure makes it a smidge harder, doesn’t it? Never mind that all of this shit I get to rehash every goddamn day is in the past. I’ll heal in hell, I suppose.”

“Having a fucked up life doesn’t mean you get to be a bad fucking person!” Daya yelled.

“Oh my God,” Sharon said. She rolled her eyes. “I need to smoke.”

She stood up, groaned, and flopped back onto the sofa.

“Are you… not going to smoke?” Jinkx asked slowly.

“I forgot I fucking quit,” Sharon said. “My boyfriend’s afraid it’ll kill me.”

“It will kill you,” Violet said from the other end of the sofa.

“I know!” Sharon said.

“I’m not sorry,” Daya said. “Like, I’m not.”

“Someone’s tryna get a hero edit as a villain,” Adore whispered.

Then, the screen flickered to life and the logo with the usual promise of a loved one message appeared. The logo faded away and up popped Alaska, out of drag and wearing a bright smile. Production had moved fast to switch the order of the video messages; after that fight, they knew they needed it to be Alaska.

“Surprise, Sharon! It’s me, Alaska, your girlfriend and your boyfriend!” Alaska threw her head back and laughed. “You know, I rewatched the last video I sent to see how I opened it, and ooh, boy, they shouldn’t have let that girl on television. How are you, baby? I hope you’re doing well. I miss you so much.”

At any other time, Sharon knew she wouldn’t have cried. She would have been all smiles. But right now? When she was itching for a smoke, tipsy from these cocktails, and fired up because of Daya? Sharon burst into tears. She put her hands over her face and just let the tears fall. Her makeup would be a mess when they went back out for the lip sync but she couldn’t care; she wasn't in the bottom that week.

Chapter Text

Episode 2 Synopsis: Clean up in Aisle 3! The queens have to put their comedy skills to the test in an improv challenge set in a grocery store. Then, on the runway, the queens showcase flamenco dancer realness.

* * *

The day Sharon and Alaska had flown out of Pittsburgh to come to Los Angeles for the premiere, it had snowed. They’d woken up to big, fluffy flakes that put stars in both of their eyes. Even two midwest natives could get excited about snow when it transformed their world into an idyllic snow globe. It was made all the better by their cats launching themselves at the windows to try to get the flakes. Sadly, they’d had to get on a plane and leave their winter wonderland behind, but at least it made the California sun all the more exhilarating.

For Violet’s after party, Alaska was taking advantage of that warmth. She had traded her red carpet gown for a cocktail dress that barely covered her ass. With its deep V-neck and and flouncy skirt, she was living for this little, purple number. She applied her lipstick and gloss duo in ‘Queen of Halloween’ and she was a whole new woman.

“Do you need help?” Alaska said through their hotel bathroom door. “You’ve been quiet.”

The door opened, and Alaska pushed inside to find Sharon, now in a kaleidoscope-print bodysuit, standing at the mirror. She was touching up her eye makeup with a slow hand. Sharon stood close enough to the mirror to rest her elbow on it; Alaska knew this posture as the new way Sharon did her makeup with her injured hand. Something about the extra stability helped her hold onto brushes with her numb fingers.

“That print is too pretty,” Alaska said. “It’s got just the right shine.”

“Too pretty for what?” Sharon murmured.

“Don’t start,” Alaska warned. “You have no reason to be in a mood. We’re going to go have fun.”

Sharon said nothing, just continued buffing out the blue and pink she’d added to the edges of her dark eye to pull in her multicolored look. Alaska was right; she had no reason to be feeling like this. Yet here she was feeling it anyway. She stepped back to admire her handiwork and nodded approvingly. All she needed was the sheer, black duster and she’d be ready. Mood or not, at least she looked good.

“It’s your night,” Alaska whispered. She wrapped her arms around Sharon from behind and kissed the shell of her ear. “You stunned on the red carpet. You won the first challenge.”

Sharon hummed and put her hands over Alaska’s forearms. Part of her wanted to push back on the affection, to tell Alaska to stop babying her and to go wait for her in the bedroom. She knew she’d see Alaska’s eyes dim with the twin pain Sharon herself felt, and then at least she wouldn’t be alone in feeling bad.

But that wasn’t the part of her that Sharon wanted to let win that night.

Sharon had chosen the other part of herself, the good part, to be the night’s victor. The part that had opened the door to let Alaska inside. That part that was hoping Alaska’s sunshine could dry up her rain clouds rather than her storms waterlogging Alaska. That was the part that needed to prevail.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” Sharon whispered. She laid her head back against Alaska's shoulder. “I really don’t.”

“The absence of mood stabilizers?” Alaska suggested.

It was a risky joke considering Sharon’s foul mood was only just breaking, but Alaska was banking on it helping the process. She’d bet correctly because Sharon smiled. Alaska squeezed her a little tighter and playfully growled before she released her to walk back into the bedroom.

Sharon spun around to lean on the doorframe and watch Alaska put on her heels. She was going to be nearly six-foot-six in those platformed monstrosities, and that gave Sharon a thrill.

“Am I prey?” Alaska drawled. She didn’t have to look up from buckling her ankle straps to know Sharon was watching her. “Should I be careful tonight?”

“Please don’t be,” Sharon said. When Alaska stood, she let her eyes slide up those long legs and over her lithe frame. “You’re not wearing body tonight.”

“Going back to my roots,” Alaska teased. “No, this dress is too small; I’d be afraid to rip seams. Or, I don’t know, have the pads all out if I move too much.” She frowned. “Is it bad?”

Sharon shook her head slowly. “I like it.”

Alaska smirked and cocked a brow. “That so?”

She gave a spin, letting the slinky fabric fan out around her, and came to stop in front of Sharon.

“Will you dance with me tonight?” Alaska asked.

Sharon ran her hand down Alaska’s side and up under her dress. She was met with the band of Capezios, sure, but those were over boyish hips and gave away to ribs and skin soon enough. Alaska shivered and leaned in to rest her forehead against Sharon’s. Quite often in their relationship, they couldn’t kiss without ruining their makeup, so other means for intimacy were necessary. Sharon had learned to cherish these lingering touches that would have once made her burn with embarrassment at being so soft. Maybe it was age. Maybe it was just the Alaska effect.

“You always ask me that like the answer will ever change: of course I will,” Sharon said softly. She slid her hand back down Alaska’s side to take her hand. “Let’s go. You are too pretty to keep in this hotel.”

* * *

Violet’s parties always felt like a sexy vampire lounge out of a movie, one of the ones through several locked doors and down a dark hallway. That was probably the effect she was going for, but Alaska marveled over it all the same. This one was no different. It was all smoke, dark lighting with roving red spotlights, black leather furniture, and pewter accents. The music was what really sold it, however: haunting female vocals over thumping bass.

They lingered in the entrance for a moment, soaking it in, before Alaska stepped into the fray and held her hand behind her for Sharon. Of course, Sharon took it. After all, wherever Alaska led, Sharon followed. It was written in the stars. That night, she led them through throngs of people to the bar. When she turned back to Sharon, it was with a bottle of water for herself and a deep red wine for Sharon.

“Classing me up?” Sharon asked. “Or living vicariously?”

“When in Rome,” Alaska reminded her.

Yes, a dry, red wine was appropriate at Violet’s party.

“You made it,” Violet said when Sharon and Alaska finally found her draped over a throne on a raised platform on the far edge of the dance floor. “I was starting to get worried you got sidetracked.”

“We needed to change,” Sharon said. She sipped her wine. “We weren’t coming out in gowns and veils. Speaking of, I’ll bring you the veil tomorrow. It’s hanging in our hotel.”

“Are you going to perform tonight?” Alaska asked with her eyes on the hanging hoop over the stage.

“I might. I want the option.” Violet pulled out her vape and then laughed at Sharon’s look of disgust. “What? Are you offended? It’s weed, not nicotine, you quitter.”

“Smoke a joint like a real person,” Sharon said.

“I can’t believe you’re being a crotchety, old lady over a vape!” Violet said.

“Oh, I can,” Alaska said. She plucked the vape from Violet’s hand to take a drag. “This is absolutely something Sharon would care about.”

“I can’t explain why it pisses me off honestly,” Sharon said. “Why should I care? I never smoked a pipe! Is a cigarette not a modern pipe? Is a vape not just a modern cigarette?”

“She was smoking before it was cool, kids,” Violet said dryly to the few people sitting around her.

“Worse, I was smoking when it was cool,” Sharon said. “Now I inhale secondhand smoke longingly in parking lots while Alaska pulls me away like I’m the kid at the toy shop window.”

“You are so old,” Violet said. “Even that reference! Looking in a toy store window? What? Did they have those in Iowa?”

Sharon could only stare in horror. Had she had more to drink than she thought at the premiere? Was this wine laced with something?

“Did they have toy stores, Violet?” Alaska cackled. “Are you from this planet?”

Violet laughed, too, as she said, “No, no, no!”

“There are still toy stores, Violet,” Sharon said. “What old-fashioned thing are you picturing? Rocking horses and pick-up sticks?”

“Marionettes and tin soldiers!” Alaska quipped. “You had to wear your sailor costume and hold tight to Mummy’s hand before crossing in front of the horse-drawn carriages.”

“No, no, bitch, stop!” Violet sat up on her throne. “I swear I’ve never walked by a toy store window. They were all, like, Toys R Us where there aren’t display windows! They had those weird garage door windows.”

“What a sad life you led,” Alaska said.

“Is this why you turned to a life of queer crime?” Sharon asked. She absently swirled her wine around her glass. “You were so hollow that you needed to become the doll you wanted to see the window.”

“Be the doll in the window you wish to see in the world!” Alaska laughed again and fell against Sharon’s side. “Come dance with me.”

Sharon held up a finger to Alaska before she finished her wine. Then, she raised an eyebrow at Violet, an invitation. Violet shook her head and waved them away. Nobody could say Sharon didn’t try. Alaska led the way out to the dance floor, but Sharon broke away from her as they were passing the DJ. She leaned in to yell something to him over the music. She rejoined Alaska in a little space towards the middle of the dance floor.

On a dance floor, eyes always got stuck on Alaska. Her height helped, especially when she was in heels that put her closer to seven-feet than six before the wig’s height was considered—but really, it was her entire aura that ensnared them. She instinctually knew how to move. Sharon had known many charismatic people, but nobody could garner attention like Alaska could. Even when she looked a mess on the floor, everyone had to stop and watch her. Sharon had never known someone so magnetic.

That night, the music was dark, moody, but mixed with beats that shook Alaska to her core—and she was living. She swayed with the beat effortlessly and put her arms over Sharon’s shoulders. Sharon didn’t have the same innate skill, but she could follow Alaska. She could move, and so long as it wasn’t choreography, she was confident.

The DJ blended one song into the next one, and after a while, Sharon’s request faded in: ‘God Complex’ by VIOLENT VIRA, one of the songs she’d put on the playlist for Alaska during tour. This had become a game in the last year: sneaking those songs into each other’s days.

“Oooh!” Alaska squealed. She leaned in to press a bruising kiss against Sharon’s lips. Lipstick be damned. “This one!”

Sharon had known this one would be on Violet’s list somewhere; in fact, Violet was the reason Sharon knew the song. Much to Sharon’s delight, the DJ didn’t add too much to take away from the true quality of the song; it was still clearly their song.

“This one,” Sharon echoed fondly.

Alaska reached up into the air and let her hands hang delicately above her head as she swayed. The red spotlight fell on her and it was positively sinful how it caught every angle of her. She rolled her head back, baring her throat, and when she looked up again, it was to see Sharon watching her intensely.

Predator meet prey.

It wasn’t the first time—and it wouldn’t be the last time—but without a drop of alcohol, it was overwhelming to be so seen, to be devoured, even if it was the entire goal of the dance. Alaska’s heart raced and she averted her eyes, choosing to look down as she got low. She popped back up, rolling her body as she ran her hands down her chest, and that had Sharon pulling her forward and wrapping her arms around Alaska’s hips.

* * *

“I want that,” Violet said, nodding to Sharon and Alaska on the dance floor.

Gottmik followed her gaze and then grimaced. “No, girl, you don’t.”

She pointed across the room to Trixie and Katya. They had turned up to the party, out of drag, to support Violet even though they had declined the invitation for the season premiere. Katya sat perched on a barstool while Trixie stood before her and enthusiastically talked. Occasionally, Katya would cut in and Trixie would quip back at her. Katya would laugh and grasp Trixie’s hand like an anchor. Without fail, Trixie kept Katya upright even as laughter threatened to capsize her.

“That is what you need to want,” Gottmik said. “That’s incredible.”

Violet hummed in acknowledgment. It was incredible, and she was happy for both of them. Sometimes, when she thought about their getting together, it made her feel stupidly sentimental as she was struck by the chance, the pure luck, that they had been cast on Season 7 together! A reality show! On a silly, little Logo show, Trixie and Katya had met and started this phenomenal career and love story—but that wasn’t what Violet wanted.

She looked back at Alaska and Sharon. This song clearly meant something to them; Violet had seen how they both lit up when it came on. There was no question that Alaska’s sexy, ethereal dance was anything other than for Sharon’s eyes alone—never mind that many people were watching the show, too. When Sharon slid her hands down Alaska’s sides to rest on the backs of her thighs, Alaska jumped and Sharon caught her. Alaska wrapped her legs around Sharon’s waist and leaned down to hold her face and kiss her. Height and stilettos didn’t matter here; Sharon held Alaska with ease.

“No, it is,” Violet said. She blinked slowly. “I want that. I want that fire.”

“Okay, then I’ll take out fire insurance on you,” Gottmik said, “because the only way that ends is in arson. We’re gonna read about their breakdown again in a few years.”

Violet frowned. “You really think?”

“They’re gonna burn each other up.”

* * *

Sharon laid out on a chaise lounge on the venue’s rooftop garden. When Violet had thrown open the doors to let the air filter in, Sharon had gladly slipped out to get some air. Between dancing, the alcohol, and the pot, she was ready to be still and look up at the clouds—or more aptly, the smog.

There were no stars in Los Angeles, and that had always bothered her. Years ago, one time when she was filming a music video here, she’d gone to the beach after a dark with Chad, Alaska, Alaska’s boyfriend at the time (John?), and two of their other friends. John (?) had pulled  Chad into a strange, dick-measuring contest with building a bonfire—why Chad went for it was beyond Sharon, but she had always assumed he was just too nice to say no—leaving Sharon and Alaska to their own devices.

“I hate L.A. skies,” Sharon had said to Alaska as they walked down to the water’s edge.

“I love the sunsets,” Alaska had said. “The palm tree silhouettes on the purple and orange? Gorgeous.”

Sharon had pointed up. “No stars.”

Alaska had looked up even though she knew she’d find only darkness. It was impure, too, almost grey from the pollution. She had known Sharon was right about the stars, but she had squinted to try to find one anyway. No dice. She had smiled sadly at Sharon and nodded.

“No stars,” she had agreed. “You love stars.”

The ocean had lapped at their feet. Alaska had dug her toes into the sand as she always did. Sharon had watched the white foam crest and crash as far out as she could see in the dark. While she hated the skies, and she reminded Alaska often enough that she hated Los Angeles, she did love the ocean. She loved water.

“What’s he do again?” Sharon had asked, nodding backwards towards John (?).

“He’s a club manager,” Alaska had said. “I beg of you to remember one detail about him.”

“I remember things.”

“Tell me one thing about him.”

Sharon had grimaced and pointedly kept her gaze on the ocean even as Alaska had leaned further and further forward to try to catch her glance.

“He… is… definitely a bottom,” Sharon had said. “And I don’t think he likes that about himself. The obsession with the wood back there?”

Alaska had not expected that and ended up laughing hard enough that she started coughing. She had gripped Sharon’s arm and shook her.

“You’re terrible!”

“Am I wrong?”

“No!”

Now it was Sharon’s turn to laugh. She had cackled and stomped her feet in the sand with glee. That had been a guess, of course. They were close for exes, but they didn’t go into those details. There were boundaries between them no matter what Chad and John (?) said to their respective partners.

That night, at Violet’s party, Sharon wished for one star. Just one.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bald head approaching her and knew from the black clothes that it was either a stranger or Katya. The other white, bald man she knew at this party was wearing too much pink. She hoped it was Katya because she was not prepared to make nice with a stranger.

“You okay?”

“Katya,” Sharon said in relieved greeting.

Katya sat down on the ground by Sharon’s face and raised her eyebrows in question.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “It’s hot in there.”

“I’m sweating my balls off,” Katya said.

“Where’s Trixie?”

“With Alaska, Gottmik, and, ah, what’s the one? IT Squad?”

Sharon chuckled. “IT Girl loves Alaska. She’s her idol.”

“That’s actually incredible,” Katya said. “It did seem very mother/daughter.”

“On the show, I thought IT wanted to fuck Alaska and teased her over it.” Sharon laughed. “My mistake. Misread the room.”

“You know, I saw a fil-um,” Katya said, “where a mother and daughter did seem to want to fuck, so maybe—”

“Ew, you do not watch lesbian porn,” Sharon interrupted.

“I most certainly will, Mary, if it’s right,” Katya said knowingly. “If it is right! If it is right, I will watch those women eat pussy.”

Sharon had to sit up to avoid choking as she laughed.

“Sorry, are you not that open-minded?” Katya asked innocently.

“Bitch, I do not watch porn for pussy!” Sharon said.

“You don’t watch porn at all these days,” Alaska said as she came to sit on the chaise beside Sharon.

Gottmik and IT Girl followed and sat in the surrounding seats.

“Why would I have to?” Sharon asked airily.

“Oh my God,” Gottmik said. She made fake gagging sounds.

“Oh, are you a prude now?” Sharon asked. “Leather, whips, and crops, but you can’t hear a little flirting? Your generation is so sanitized!”

“No, but it’s like listening to my parents talk about their sex life,” Gottmik retorted. “It’s fine that they do it, but I don’t need to hear about it.”

Katya pointed at IT Girl. “So do we call you just IT? IT Girl? What?”

“Either,” IT Girl said. She knew this was a subject change and she was glad to help. “As long as it’s not ‘It Girl,’ we’re good, girl.”

“I can do that,” Katya said. “Oh, and hi, I’m Katya.”

“I know,” IT Girl said. She closed her eyes. “I need to stop doing that.”

“Meet the famous queens like you would anyone else,” Alaska said. “You’re a famous queen now, too.”

“Actually,” IT Girl said. She held the word out as she looked at Alaska. “Well, wait, how long are you two in town?”

“We’re here through next week,” Sharon said.

“We’re staying for the next episode and leaving a few days after,” Alaska said. “Sharon’s got a club viewing party with Violet.”

“What are you thinking?” Sharon asked.

IT Girl smiled. “Would you, by any chance, be willing to do a cameo in a music video I’m shooting? Both of you, of course.”

Alaska and Sharon looked between each other. No words were exchanged. Alaska looked back at IT Girl with a bright smile.

“We’d love it,” she drawled. “Text the vibes and details and we’ll be ready for you.”

Sharon held her hand out for IT Girl’s phone. She then added in Alaska’s number for her.

“Fuck,” Gottmik said. She slammed her hand on her thigh, making Sharon jump, and winced. “Sorry, girl. Just… that fucking asshole is here and talking to Violet.”

“Who?” Katya asked.

“The guy Violet’s been seeing.”

“The Brit?” Katya asked.

“Sorry, the one who stood her up earlier tonight?” Sharon asked incredulously. “He’s the one here now?”

Alaska gasped. “No!” She leaned down to pat Katya’s shoulder. “ Go save her. You’re the only one who’s a boy tonight.”

“Excuse me, little lady, I couldn’t help but see you’re entertainin’ the idea of forgivin’ an asshole on accounts of that there English accent,” Katya said in a low, gravelly Southern accent.

“I didn’t say you had to turn into a cowboy to save her!” Alaska laughed.

“It’s way more fun that way!” Katya said.

* * *

Sharon and Alaska crashed into their hotel room with little regard for the hour or their neighbors. It was a weekend in a Los Angeles hotel; nobody could actually get mad at them. Sharon was still laughing about Alaska’s attempts to explain her drag to the Uber driver even as she tripped over herself to sit on the foot of the bed.

“‘Have you ever seen a scarf flying in the wind? It’s, like, lime green, and it’s pretty? Well, then the scarf falls in the alley and gets tangled up with a black trash bag,’” Sharon drawled, “‘and that’s what I do basically.’”

Alaska followed Sharon. “He had no reference for drag! I tried! I did, I really did. He understood me then. He got the scarf and the bag.”

“No, he didn’t!” Sharon kicked her shoes off and threw her duster and bodysuit after them. “That was just the moment he decided we were insane beyond the dressing like women.”

“I think he understood me deeply,” Alaska said.

“I’d like to understand you deeply in a few minutes,” Sharon said.

Alaska huffed a laugh. “That’s not the plan tonight, doll.”

She turned her back to Sharon so she could help her with the zipper. It was one smooth, fluid motion, and luckily Sharon was just drunk enough not to be embarrassed about how excited she was over pulling a zipper. She had been practicing little moves with her right hand more and more to try to compensate for her dominant hand’s problems. Sharon kissed Alaska’s bare back, leaving a dark lipstick stain.

Sharon pulled off her tights and let them and her pads join the rest of her pile. When she turned back to Alaska, it was to find her already completely naked, with only her makeup as proof she’d been in drag, and hard. In the dark of their hotel room, with only the lights from the city shining through their open windows, Alaska’s winter-white skin glowed. Gone were the days of sun-kissed, west coast Alaska. The tundra had returned.

“I’m so gay,” Sharon said.

She threw her head back and laughed. Before Sharon could say more, however, Alaska took two big steps to push them onto the bed.

“Well, thank God,” Alaska said. She kissed her. “If you weren’t, this would be a real problem for me. Your being gay is pretty crucial for me.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I wasn’t gay?” Sharon asked. She ran her hands down Alaska’s back to squeeze her ass. “Pretty narrow-minded, Miss Thunderfuck.”

“Would you let me fuck you if you weren’t gay? I doubt it.”

“Are we discussing gender right now, darling? According to your book, you said—well, hey, why don’t we go find a copy? One of your friends in L.A. must have it.”

Sharon made like she was going to get out of bed, but Alaska only collapsed on top of her in response. Sharon kissed Alaska’s cheek, over her jaw, down her neck, to her shoulder.

“Some of the most beautiful women in the world have gigantic penises,” Sharon talk-sang against her skin.

Alaska smirked and sat up again to look down at Sharon.

“I am going to fuck you tonight,” she said.

Sharon pointedly looked at Alaska’s hard dick hanging between them and then back at Alaska. “God, I would hope so.”

* * *

After Tayce’s Elimination:

“Sometimes that's the way the cookie crumbles, loves. Good luck, my heroes. I’d say don’t let Daya win, but I know she won’t. LOVE, TAYCE.”

Daya finished reading the mirror message and laughed humorlessly as she wiped it away.

“I’m honestly surprised she went home first,” Adore said from her perch on the nearby table.

“You thought it should have been me?” Daya asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Adore said firmly even as she smiled. “I said I’m surprised she went first. It’s not about you. It’s about Tayce. She’s sickening.”

“It sounds like you wanted me to go home, girl,” Daya said.

In her confessional, Detox rolled her eyes and said, “Why pick a fight with Adore? What is even the point of that? Like, okay, cool, you can be mildly aggressive with one of the nicest girls from the show. Cute.”

“Why wouldn’t a hero want a villain to go home?” Sharon asked. She had walked away from the group to her station to dedrag. “We’ll be saying the same thing next week when Daya goes home. We’ll say, ‘Oh, I wish it had been Olivia instead.’”

The queens ooooh-ed and laughed as one would expect from such a line.

“What?” Sharon said. “It’s not personal; it’s drag.”

“Except that was my only time in the bottom,” Daya said. “I’m calling it.”

Detox rolled her eyes hard and joined Sharon in the closet area they shared. When Sharon pointed to her own back, Detox gladly stepped forward to undo her lacing.

“Why is she already insufferable?” Detox murmured.

“Did you know her before?” Sharon asked. “I don’t know her at all.”

“Not well,” Detox said. “I liked her enough before, but all she does is bitch. We get it. You think you’re above it.”

“Above what?” Sharon smirked. “Crowns and legends? She’s surrounded on this team.”

“The new girl is better than her and she’s been doing drag for like two minutes,” Detox said. She squawked with laughter. “A whole-ass infant’s got more going for her.”

Detox patted Sharon’s back to signal she was unlaced. Sharon stepped away to put her wig on a bust. She hummed to herself and peeked over at Daya only to find her looking at her.

“Nobody’s even talking to you, Sharon,” Daya said. “You can do yourself—and all of us!—a big favor and keep your mouth closed.”

Sharon tilted her head to the side. “Hm, nobody’s talking to me. I really thought I was just talking to Detox.”

“Yeah, and you said that Faye Tality is better at drag than me,” Daya said, “and I’m saying that nobody wants to hear you talk.”

In her confessional, Sharon held up a hand and said, “I couldn’t tell you one thing about Faye’s drag other than there is a lot of yellow. So much yellow. A confusing amount of yellow. She’s bought stock in yellow. She’s accepted yellow as her Lord and Savior.”

The shot cut to Faye getting out of drag in front of a rack of yellow garments.

“I certainly wouldn’t say that Faye Tality is better than Daya,” Sharon continued in her confessional, “but that’s mostly because there’s only room for one Big Bird on Drag Race, and Manila cornered the market. But more importantly? We didn’t even say Faye’s name! We were talking about IT Girl, and yes, IT is better than Daya, I’ll say it.”

“Do you get it now or should I dumb it down for you more?” Daya asked.

“Oh, is that how we’re going to play this? All those tears after your season about being a good person and just being ‘competitive’ and now you’re back to this? Okay, well, I—” Sharon began.

“No,” Daya yelled. “Okay, full offense—”

“Full offense!” Detox squawked with laughter again and came to stand by Sharon. “Queen of No Offense is here to hit you with that full offense. Okay, go off then, full offense. I can’t wait to see how you try to make that sound better at the reunion.”

“I don’t have time for you two,” Daya said.“It’s exhausting talking to genuinely bad people.”

In her confessional, Mistress grimaced and said,“Girl, you talked about cracking Jasmine’s skull on the pavement in your season. What are you talking about? Just because you cried those crocodile tears don’t mean you’re off the hook. Hello! You’re on the villains team, too!”

The scene cut to Daya stalking towards Crystal’s closet while Sharon and Detox watched her with their arms crossed over their chests. Dramatic music played as the scene faded to commercial.

* * *

“Now what’s funny,” Sharon said from her spot up on stage with Violet, “is that they cut a really important part there. I guess because they thought it was too bad.”

Violet nodded. “It was just tacky. Like, there’s a lot you can say about Sharon and Detox both that’s fair, but that was just so…”

“What was the comment?” the moderator asked eagerly

Sharon sighed. “It was a reference to my dropping out of high school and not having a diploma. It actually sets up why I talk about all that later, but I guess they thought her saying that was just too much.”

The audience gasped and booed. A few snuck looks at Alaska, who sat off to the side along the wall so as not to block anyone’s view with her wig. She had her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pursed.

“It was said in a way that didn’t make Sharon the punching bag; it made anyone who doesn’t have a diploma the punching bag,” Violet explained. “Honestly, with how fans like to cancel people, Daya’s lucky it was cut.”

Sharon laughed around the rim of her beer. With all eyes on her then, she held up a hand in apology.

“Well, we’re talking about it now, sooo I don’t think she’s that lucky,” Sharon said.

“Oh, well, nobody’s here,” the moderator said. “That camera recording? That’s just for me. It’s just us three.”

The room then erupted in applause and screams to make their presence known.

* * *

“Today’s maxi-challenge is an improv challenge,” Jinkx said happily in her confessional. “Well, it’s lightly scripted, I suppose, because we have roles and a set, but that’s it. Everything else is on us.”

A grocery store had been erected and stocked with a mixture of fake and real food. There were three sets: the produce section, the cereal aisle, and the party supplies aisle. Each team had to choose who worked at the grocery store and who was a shopper. Their opening prompt was simple: ‘You’re last-minute shopping for a big date where you plan to propose, and nothing is going right.’

As the villains waited outside for the heroes to finish their taping, Gia came up to Sharon. She leaned on the railing of the stairs and pointed to the seagulls in the parking lot. Several were pecking at the litter to try to get crumbs and scraps. Others seemed to be on patrol.

“Sharon, do you ever think about if you’re the seagull… or if you’re the starfish?” Gia asked.“Sometimes that’s the best way to figure out your day.”

In her confessional, Sharon stared blankly at the camera.

“I love you,” Sharon said seriously to Gia. She kissed her forehead.

“Aw, love you, too,” Gia said with a smile and a one-shoulder shrug.

In her confessional, Sharon said, “I understand maybe every other sentence Gia says. They’re all English words that I recognize, but she puts them in an order or uses them with a deeper meaning that is beyond my comprehension. More often than not, I’m just going off the tone of her sentences.”

“Okay, villains, you’re up!” a crew member called.

On set, the villains got into their positions. They had three employees, a manager, and three customers.

In her confessional, IT Girl rubbed at her jaw and nodded slowly. She said, “So let me get this straight. I need to compete with Detox and Sharon, who are pretty funny queens, and Violet and Mistress, who are just pretty well-rounded queens?” She hummed and closed her eyes. “I am mentally practicing my lip sync as we speak, shit.”

When the scene began, employees Sharon and Violet, both in their best old lady drag, began to unpack the new produce while customers Gia and Detox shopped for groceries.

“These cucumbers are going like hotcakes,” Violet told Sharon.

“Aisle 5, pancake mix is next to the syrup,” Sharon said flatly.

Violet shook her head “No, no, the cucumbers are selling fast.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Sharon said. “Are they good?”

“Cucumbers? You’ve never had one?” Violet hummed. “They’re like crunchy water.”

Sharon waggled her finger at Violet. “Water’s a liquid.”

Violet gave Sharon a side-long glance and then returned to stocking the produce.

Detox and Gia walked into the frame then. Gia hung on Detox’s arm with one hand while the other held her phone to her ear. Detox looked around anxiously.

“Sweetie, honey, darling?” Detox said. “Why don’t you… go look at the strawberries? Who doesn’t love a good, sexy, moist strawberry?”

Gia looked at Detox and then shrugged. “Okay.”

Violet, seeing the missed opportunity for Detox, winced and said, “I don’t think ‘sexy’ and ‘moist’ should be used together.”

“Why not, sir?” Detox asked.

“Well, ‘moist’ isn’t really a word that gets you in the mood,” Violet continued. “It makes you think of basements and foot fungus in a pedicure tub and, and nematodes. Oh, and I’m a woman, honey. Don’t let looks fool ya.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am,” Detox said. She cleared her throat. “I have a cold, forgive me.”

“Aisle 7, cold & sinus medication,” Sharon said. “Or pharmacy if you need the good-good.”

Detox leaned in close and grabbed Sharon’s arm. “No, no, I need—”

“A restraining order for touching the employee, security desk up front,” Sharon said with a furrowed brow and slight pout.

“You’re right,” Detox said. She let go of  Sharon. “Look, I’m proposing to my girlfriend tonight.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Violet said. She nudged Sharon. “What aisle for balloons?”

“Aisle 11, wedding, birthday, and general party,” Sharon said. “Specialty balloons, like rainbow and dental dam, back wall.”

“A dental dam balloon? How does that work?” Detox asked.

“Mistress is real good at those,” Violet said. “She can help you in the back. Can we help you find anything else?”

“Yes, I need a carrot or a cucumber,” Detox said.

“Produce,” Sharon said flatly. “You are here.”

“Oh, fantastic!” Detox looked over towards Gia. “Quickly before she comes back.”

“Why do you need one or the other?” Violet asked. “What are you making?”

Detox shook her head. “It’s not for that. It’s… It’s a long story, but the ring, is a cock ring.”

Sharon very slowly dragged her eyes down Detox’s body and then back up to her eyes before she looked into the camera for comedic effect.

“It’s a what ring?” Violet asked.

“It’s a, uh, flocked ring,” Detox said quickly, nervously. “Covered in fake snow.”

“And you need a carrot or cucumber…”

“Produce,” Sharon said. She took a carrot and a cucumber from the bins and held them out to Violet who then held them out to Detox. “Back wall, sex toys. Manager Daya can help you.”

Detox took both. “Which will rot more quickly? I am a very busy man—woman. I am a busy woman! I don’t want to be rushed.”

“The cucumber,” Violet began.

Gia walked back over holding up the strawberries. “Got em, baby.”

“Oh! Baby, you’re back so quickly!” Detox exclaimed. She quickly put the cucumber behind her back and looked around. “Do me a favor, ah…” She picked up an apple and threw it across the set. “Oh, honey, go pick that up for me.”

Without a word, Gia left to pick up the apple.

The scene continued with Detox’s attempts to buy the perfect engagement cucumber and eventually balloons from Mistress and Daya while keeping Gia occupied.

* * *

“Look,” Sharon said at the commercial break. “It’s really a miracle we got through that one at all.”

“Give us nothing, Gia!” Violet clapped. “Aw, I wish she was with us tonight. Why’d we let her book somewhere else?”

“Bold of you to assume Gia would listen to us,” Sharon said.

“I almost feel like we don’t need to keep watching to know the highs, lows, and safes,” the moderator admitted. “We will, of course, but the writing’s on the wall.”

“It’s not lookin’ so hot for the villains,” Sharon said, pulling at an imaginary collar around her neck. “I’ve never left a challenge feeling so sick.”

“I mean, it wasn’t that bad,” the moderator said.

Violet and Sharon both stared at him without a word. The audience laughed. Sharon nodded slowly.

“It was that bad,” Sharon said. “We’d lost Gia completely. Then we lose IT Girl within two sentences when she comes on.”

“Mistress held her own!” Violet said. “Thank God that bitch is quick because we were improvising with drying wax.” She held up a finger. “And I’m not even good at this shit. This is not my shit!”

* * *

“Category Is… Flamenco Dancer Realness! First up… Sharon Needles!”

Sharon stepped out from around the corner painted fully as a skeleton: face, chest, arms, hands—all painted black with white bones over top. On her skull, she had painted flowers on her cheeks and colorful dots around the eye sockets. She wore a more traditional flamenco dress silhouette with its ruffles and high slit up the thigh, but the ruffles were black velvet with big, crimson flowers across the sheer bodice.

“I’m marrying two cultures here: Spain and Mexico. I wanted the movement of the flamenco dancer but with the beauty Mexico’s Día de los Muertos,” Sharon said in her voiceover. “It’s beautiful to think that there’s a day where the living and the dead are reunited once more.”

Sharon strutted to the end of the runway and paused to stare down the judges before sashaying from one side to the next and then back up the aisle. She spun around at the top of the runway, shook the ruffles of her dress, and then took a dramatic step off the stage.

* * *

“If I call your name, please step forward,” Michelle said. “From the heroes, Olivia Lux, Jinkx Monsoon, Faye Tality, Peppermint, and Crystal Methyd.” She paused. “If I called your name, you represent the tops and bottoms of the heroes team. Adore Delano, you are safe. You may leave the stage.”

The heroes looked amongst each other nervously.

“From the villains, when I call your name, please step forward, Detox, Gia Gunn, Violet Chachki, Sharon Needles, and IT Girl.” She paused. “You also represent the tops and bottoms of your team. Daya Betty and Mistress Isabelle Brooks, you are safe. You may leave the stage.”

The two teams looked across the runway at each other. They were all up here?

“Tonight, there will be both a hero and a villain eliminated from this competition,” Michelle said.

In her confessional, Jinkx said, “I never wanted to be Adore before, but I think I’d like to start now.”

Gia Gunn :

“What was the plan?” Michelle asked. “You didn’t give anything to your teammates to work with!”

“I’m not good at these kinds of challenges, and so I just did what Detox said,” Gia said. “She’s good at this.”

“That’s not an excuse. C’mon, Gia. You can’t seriously think you were going to come on this show and not have to improvise.” Michelle pointed at Detox. “Yeah, she is very good at this, but you gave her nothing. Noth-ing. How can she be good if you don’t even give her something to play with?”

Gia shook her head. “That’s not fair. I did whatever she said.”

“But that’s not improv, girl,” Michelle said.“Improv is giving another thing to build off. You literally walked away every time and made Violet and Sharon pick up your slack.”

“On the plus side,” the guest judge said, “you look gorgeous, Gia. That orange suits you.”

Detox :

“You didn’t have a lot to work with, but you didn’t falter,” the guest judge said.

“No, she didn’t,” Carson agreed, “but you had some really funny moments, Detox. Throwing something and then telling Gia to go pick it up? Genius.”

“I know we could have seen more from you, but that’s not to take away from the banter you had with Mistress or the quick thinking at the start with Violet and Sharon when it wasn’t going your way,” Michelle said. “You killed it.”

Sharon Needles :

“You had a character,” Michelle said. “We all know that worker who just drones at you, so the relatable element is there and that makes it work. But the line about the restraining order is what saved you from getting lost with Detox and Violet’s back and forth.”

“And this look tonight, wow!” the guest judge said. “What is going on here?”

“Well, so I’m a great-aunt,” Sharon said. She held up a hand to pause.“Not a ‘great’ aunt—I’m a mediocre aunt—but an aunt who has a niece who had children. I have two grand-nephews—there we go, that’s how to say it—that I saw while getting my package together, and we were watching that Disney movie Coco? All about the Day of the Dead—and I just, well, I’d heard about the holiday before obviously, but watching the boys’ eyes get all big and full of wonder? Well, it got me thinking about putting the two together: a dead Mexican dancer who reclaimed flamenco dancing in life, and now on the Day of the Dead, she comes back to dance again.”

“I would have liked a little bit more from you in the challenge,” Carson admitted, “but this look is spectacular, and the choices you did make in the challenge were smart if not just a little safe.”

IT Girl :

“I lost you,” Carson said. He smiled sadly. “I can’t remember one thing you did. I know I’m not frustrated with you, not like with other girls tonight, but forgettable isn’t good either.”

“I promise you that this isn’t what I plan to show this season,” IT Girl said. “I’m better than this. I don’t know what happened here. I guess I just got intimidated.”

“Don’t let these other queens scare you,” Michelle said. She pointed at IT Girl. “You’re the new kid on the block, but you’re worthy of being up with all of them.

Violet Chachki :

“Now, of course, you look incredible,” the guest judge said. “I never tire of your corsets.”

“I do,” Michelle said.

Violet smiled and blinked slowly.

“But yes, you look great,” Michelle said. “You look great. Everything is right. You can turn a look, for sure. Nobody’s ever denied that.”

Violet visibly steeled herself.

“But you also worked well in the challenge,” Michelle said. “This isn’t your angle of drag. You don’t do the comedy and all of that, but you played a good straight man and you didn’t leave your partners hanging.”

* * *

“It was just such a relief to realize I wasn’t in the bottom,” Violet said. “You can see it on my face during their comments. I was sure they were going to get me because I didn’t do anything funny, really, just tried to move the scene along.”

Sharon nodded. “Yes! Look, everyone watching here, the way they edited the actual improv scene? That made it look much better than it felt—and it still wasn’t even good!”

“Saving the scene from crashing and burning apparently carried a lot of weight this time,” Violet said.

“Do you think Daya or Mistress should have been in the top instead?” The moderator asked.

“No,” Violet and Sharon said in unison.

The audience laughed.

* * *

“Jinkx Monsoon… Condragulations, you are the winner of this challenge,” Michelle said. “Detox… Condragulations, you are the winner of this challenge.”

In her confessional, Detox screamed, “I won! Okay! Wow, it’s not my cleanest win, but I’m not gonna complain. A win is a win.”

“You know this means the next one is a design challenge,” Jinkx said in her confessional. She laughed. “They have to give me a comedy win before they cut me off at the knees.”

Jinkx and Detox left the stage, and in quick succession, Sharon, Violet, Peppermint, and Crystal followed. This left IT Girl and Gia in the bottom for the villains and Olivia Lux and Faye Tality in the bottom for the heroes.

“This is a wakeup call,” IT Girl said in her confessional. “Gia Gunn is an icon, but Michelle’s right: I belong here. I’m not going home.” She laughed. “I didn’t get all those death threats and hate mail in my DMs to be the second villain going home. I’m staying until the end.”

* * *

“IT Girl, shantay, you stay… Gia Gunn, I’m sorry, but that means you are out. Sashay away.”

“Faye Tality, shantay, you stay… Olivia Lux, I’m sorry, my dear, but that means you are out. Sashay away.”

* * *

“I don’t think Gia’s meant for Drag Race,” Sharon said. “She doesn’t translate well. She’s got so many ideas and can be so funny, but then you put her on this kind of show and it just doesn’t work for her.”

“No, I agree,” Violet said. “Gia’s an artist, but she doesn’t get to shine on the show.”

“Hey, she’s going out with a challenge win from the first episode though,” the moderator said. “That’s something!”

Sharon laughed. “She did what she came to do: win a challenge, say weird shit, and fuck up the words of her lip sync before going home in the second episode.”

“An icon, everyone,” Violet said. “You gotta give it to her.”

“In fact, let’s give it to her,” the moderator said. “Everyone, let’s send some positive energy Gia’s way.”

The audience clapped and cheered.

* * *

Alaska found it hard to watch these episodes. She knew what was going to happen throughout the series; naturally, Sharon had told her everything when she got home. Still, watching the story unfold, seeing how the editors cut it, gave her a stomachache. Leaving out Daya’s line about Sharon’s not having a high school diploma in that fight? That worried Alaska greatly. Were they protecting Daya with it? Would Sharon look crazy later in that argument with Daya they teased after the first episode?

“You know what we should do?” Sharon said as she walked out the back door to where Alaska stood waiting. “I’m craving ice cream. I looked it up, and there’s a place near here that has dairy-free ice cream for you, you heathen. The reviews say the dairy-free flavors are actually good, not like the ones where they’re all icy and freezer burnt.”

Alaska’s aching stomach now did somersaults which didn’t do much for her nausea but it did a lot for her heart.

“Ice cream sounds great,” Alaska said. She fell into step beside Sharon as they began their walk. “Hey, Lola texted me. She stopped in to see the cats and I have to show this picture. Hold on…”

Chapter Text

Episode 3 Synopsis: The Supremes, The Spice Girls, Destiny’s Child, The Pussycat Dolls—Girl groups make the world go round, and this week, the queens had to create their own iconic girl group performances that showcased that their villainy and heroism. Then on the runway, the queens served teenage daydream.

* * *

Episode 3 Sneak Preview: Left on the Werk Room Floor

It was the day of the challenge and runway. A few queens were at the mirror putting on makeup. Others were practicing their steps for the challenge. Others still were putting final touches on their looks. Sharon, however, was pacing the room with her headphones on. She had painted already and now was practicing for the lip sync in just high heels and shorts.

“I really hope I’m not in the bottom because this’ll do me in” Sharon said.

“Do you consider yourself a good lip syncer?” IT Girl asked.

“No,” Sharon said without hesitation. She laughed at the shock on IT’s face. “No, it’s not really my gig, ya know? I mean, I can do it, and you won’t boo me off stage for it, but it’s not what I do. Nobody would ever call me to be an assassin. Thankfully, I only had to do it twice on my season: once in the bottom and then at the finale.”

Jinkx pointed at IT Girl with a eyeshadow brush. “Back when we were doing BOTS, we’d have to make sure Sharon’s mic was off during group numbers because she’d end up singing instead of lip syncing.”

“I remember that! You and Alaska both!” Adore exclaimed. “It’s like you couldn’t help yourself.”

“Yes, because why mouth words if you can sing them?” Sharon asked. “It was a problem.”

“Show us what you’re thinking,” Adore said. “Play the song.”

“Mm, yeah, then we can feel better if we’re in the bottom against you,” Daya said absently.

“You’re very funny, Daya,” Sharon said. “Have you been working on that one?”

Sharon unplugged her headphones and set the MP3 player down on the nearby table. She grabbed her green wig and plopped it on her head unceremoniously as she strutted down the aisle between the heroes’ and villains' sides to start lip syncing:

“Bitch, you know I’m sexy! Ugh, don’t call, just text me. Bitch is slow, can’t get on my speed. They stare cause they know I’m the I-T G-I-R-L. You know I am that girl. Shh, bitch, don’t kiss and tell. It girl from ATL. I, I-T G-I-R-L!”

While Sharon did strut and dance, making use of the space, it was her facial expressions that shone. She was playing it up, turning up the volume and being over the top girly, poppy princess. It wasn’t just camp; it was theatre.

“Oh, that’s too weird! Bitch, no!” Mistress laughed. She had been practicing her steps for the challenge but had stopped to watch.“Oh, I don’t like you doing that. You’re not supposed to be that animated.”

“I put the ‘animated’ in ‘reanimated corpse,’” Sharon said brightly. She giggled airily.

“It’s actually not bad, Sharon,” Peppermint said from the makeup counter. “It just feels weird because it’s not you.”

In her confessional, Jinkx said, “A few of us are old-fashioned queens. We’re not going to have a full dance routine and splits and death drops and all of that. We have our faces and wit.” She shrugged. “It does make it a little scary to think about going up against those kinds of queens though now that that’s the expectation of a lip sync.” A beat. “Well, actually, do we have any stunt queens this season?” Another beat. “Oh my God, Faye literally was flipping all over the stage last episode. Jesus Christ. Okay, okay… You know, I don’t drink anymore, not that you could tell from this!”

* * *

Sharon stared out at the ocean with her mug almost at her lips. She had gotten distracted by a surfer who was really quite impressive. She had no desire to learn to surf, but she couldn’t help but watch whenever she spotted one. Besides, Alaska wasn’t here yet, so she had time for two things: watching surfers and texting Violet. Speaking of, Sharon finally sipped her latte and then traded the mug for her phone.

Sharon: Am I wrong or did I see that asshole at the event last night?

Violet: Why are you up???

Sharon: Many mistakes in my life have brought me here. Right now, loving a man who wanted breakfast at her favorite no-reservation hotspot.

Sharon: Alaska’s not even here!

Violet: So who’s the man then? I thought we weren’t doing infidelity this time around. I thought infidelity was so 2013.

Sharon: So glad this is a “joke” you made in a text and not out loud in front of Alaska. It would be so sad to have to murder you after all these years.

Violet: You went separately?

Sharon: She had to drop something off with management first. It was my job to secure the table.

Sharon: But you didn’t answer my question. He was there, right? That was him?

Violet: Yes.

Sharon: Did he ever apologize for missing the premiere AND THEN GOING TO YOUR PARTY ANYWAY?

Violet: I’m getting the feeling that there is a correct answer to this question.

“Hi, baby, sorry,” Alaska said from behind Sharon. She ran her hand over Sharon’s shoulder as she walked around her to sit in the empty chair. “My Uber got in an accident and that was a whole thing.”

Sharon’s eyes widened. She swore she could feel her heart pumping, pushing the blood up to her head to keep her alert. But doing that meant it wasn’t going elsewhere, and her fingers tingled uncomfortably, like the biting numbness of her left hand had spread. She stretched her fingers out, curling and splaying, curling and splaying. She saw Alaska’s eyes flick to them.

“A car accident?”

“A fender bender,” Alaska drawled. “Nothing serious.”

Sharon opened Alaska’s texts. Nothing new that she somehow missed. She looked at her missed calls. Nothing new there either. She blinked several times as if clearing her eyes would make it make sense. Shockingly, it didn’t.

“You didn’t even text?” Sharon asked incredulously.

“Well, I was okay,” Alaska said. “It was more annoying than anything because then I had to wait for another car—and I’m starving and wanted to get to you.”

The waiter came by to take Alaska’s drink order and both of their meal orders. Alaska sat back in her chair and let out a contented sigh. She did love this little place, and she was glad Sharon hadn’t been pressed over the idea of waking up so early to get a table while it was still empty. Alaska was smiling, but when she looked across the table at Sharon, she was not.

“You would be losing your mind if I was in a car accident and didn’t call you,” Sharon said evenly. She was actually quite proud of herself for how well she was handling this. “What happened?”

Oh, so this was a real problem.

Alaska swallowed the thickness in her throat and her confusion. It didn’t matter if she got it; it was upsetting Sharon, so she needed to get into it. She reached for Sharon’s hand and watched as Sharon eyed her. For a moment, she didn’t think she was going to give it to her, but then Sharon slid her arm across the table and let Alaska hold her hand against the tablecloth.

“We were going through the intersection and someone ran their stop sign and hit the car,” Alaska said. “It was not anything serious.”

“Hit your side of the other side?” Sharon asked.

Alaska hesitated and Sharon gasped.

“Not fast,” Alaska said quickly. The more she said out loud, the more she realized she should have called Sharon. Why hadn’t she done that? “It wasn’t fast. I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”

Sharon could only stare at Alaska, mouth ajar. Her heart was pounding in her skull. She pulled her hand away—which made Alaska frown—to pick up her tin lunchbox. She rifled through it for her little pill box. Aspirin was needed. She paused and held up the pill box for Alaska. She’d just been in a car accident where the car hit her side, after all. At the very least, she was scrambled! Shaken, not stirred! Sharon felt sick.

“I’m okay,” Alaska said softly.

“I actually don’t think you are because you didn’t call me,” Sharon said. She took the pills with her coffee, but she wondered if she shouldn’t order something stronger. No, resist. “Did you hit your head? Did anyone look at you?”

“The police don’t even come out for minor accidents here,” Alaska said. “Both drivers stayed, so they just exchanged information while I waited for another car.”

Sharon tilted her head to the side as she stared at Alaska. Visibly, yes, she was perfectly fine. There wasn’t a curl out of place on her head nor a mark on her skin. But, baby, what you see isn’t always what you get. There was a whole lot inside of you that could get fucked up by impact.

“You didn’t pay, did you?” Sharon asked with a sigh.

“No, no, the first driver comped my ride with him and squared my ride with the second guy,” Alaska said.

“You have to tell me these things,” Sharon said. “I… I don’t like that you didn’t.”

It sounded so childish to say it like that, but Sharon didn’t know how else to put it. She wouldn’t have been any use to Alaska if she had been given the information; however, not knowing it had happened when it happened made her feel sick in a way she also couldn’t describe well. Was she sick over what could have happened to Alaska? Over Alaska’s not feeling the need to tell her instantly? Or both?

Alaska’s leg pressed against hers under the table. She was, as always, warm and solid. Sharon sighed and pressed her leg back despite how she wanted to be mad. It was a fight every day not to take every little thing as a slight, as a sign of something bad looming in the distance. Sharon won the battle more of than she lost it—not that anyone would ever know that; she only got the attention when she did let something become a slight—but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard.

“So you are… scared?” Alaska asked. “I want to understand so I get it. I didn’t tell you when it happened and that scared you because…?”

“Your getting into therapy when we broke up was the best and worst thing that ever happened to us,” Sharon joked with a sigh. She hummed. “Yes, it scared me. It scared me because…”

She narrowed her eyes in thought. She looked back out at the ocean like it might tell her how her mind worked. The waiter brought them their meals: egg-white, spinach omelet with fruit on the side for Alaska and a fluffy Belgian waffle with pecans and bananas for Sharon. Sharon cut into her waffle, spun her plate, and started cutting up the other side. She knew the drill by now: Alaska would steal pieces from her and she’d let her because she loved her. She loved her enough to order gluten-free and dairy-free to allow for this ritual to happen, Christ.

“It scared me because that’s a big deal,” Sharon finally said.

Alaska hummed in acknowledgment. She stabbed a piece of waffle with her fork and nodded at Sharon to continue.

“If it were me, you’d be my first call. I would be telling you before I even got out of the car,” Sharon said. She cleared her throat. “I want to be yours. Aren’t I yours?”

“You are mine,” Alaska said. Her chest hurt. “But I didn’t call anyone. Well, I called another Uber.”

“And it scared me because… because now I’ll think about the fact that there’s always a possibility you’re in trouble when you’re off somewhere and you’re just not telling me, and that’ll freak me out,” Sharon said. She sighed. “I know that’s not a normal train of thought. Like, I hear myself. I am self-aware.”

Alaska smiled. Sharon might tease her about therapy, but it really had helped Alaska through the years. She couldn’t get Sharon to go, of course, and she wasn’t sure it was worth the fight to keep bringing it up. However, Sharon was open to these little exercises so long as Alaska framed them right.

“I’ll tell you when these things happen,” Alaska promised.

She speared a strawberry from her bowl and held it out to Sharon in offering. Sharon huffed a laugh and leaned over to eat it form her fork.

“Is this a Pavlov thing?” Sharon asked. She covered her mouth as she chewed. “Are you going to take out strawberries now and I’ll just spill my guts?”

“Good dog,” Alaska said. They laughed. “Man, if that would work, I’d do it.”

Sharon snorted. “Oh, I texted Violet. That was the guy. You were right.”

“I knew it!” Alaska rolled her eyes. “He’s not even hot.”

“Okay, let’s not go that far,” Sharon said. “You can think he’s an asshole, but you have to acknowledge he’s hot.”

“He’s not my type, I guess.”

“Your type doesn’t exist. Line up every man you’ve dated and we’re a shocking bunch,” Sharon said. “Nobody would guess they all belonged to the same man.”

“‘Belonged to,’” Alaska repeated, amused. “Okay.”

“What was the guy’s name?” Sharon said. She pointed at Alaska with her fork. “Okay, hold on. He was… the club manager and he was really insecure. John?”

“Wait, more context,” Alaska said. “Were you with Chad?”

“Yes.”

“You met this boyfriend in real life?”

“Yes.”

Alaska hummed. “Club manager…”

“We were on the beach and he was building the bonfire and mansplaining to Chad about it and—” Sharon began.

“Oh!” Alaska threw her head back and laughed. “John? Where did you get John? His name is Eric.”

“Eric?” Sharon repeated. She shook her head. “There’s no way his name was Eric.”

“The club manager with the abs that you said was a bottom and—”

“Yes.”

“Eric. I think I’d know my exes’ names. I’ve never dated a John.”

Sharon sat back in her seat. “Wow, he’s been John in my head for years.”

“You think about him often? You want his number, baby?” Alaska smirked. “Now that’s not your type. I’ve never seen you date a muscle guy.”

“No, I haven’t,” Sharon agreed. She reached over to cut off a corner of Alaska’s omelet. “But that’s my point! Think of him and then think of me and then think of…”

“I dare you to remember another name of someone I seriously dated,” Alaska said. “If you can get it right, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Sharon asked. “What do I get?”

“Realistically, you should get nothing for remembering the bare minimum about me,” Alaska said. She sipped her juice. “Should remembering my exes not be something?”

Sharon shook her head. “No. Why would I remember their names? None of them mattered in the end .”

“I bet they knew your name,” Alaska said under her breath.

“I mattered,” Sharon said matter-of-factly.

“You did. The fucking ghost in between me and everyone else I ever loved.” Alaska rolled her eyes. “I just… I don’t know. You don’t know any of them?”

“Alaska, you’re being ridiculous. I know what matters about them,” Sharon said. “Their names don’t matter. Who cares what his name was? It was how he treated you, right? That’s what I remember. Erich/John was a weirdo, but he was nice to you, I remember that.”

“He was nice,” Alaska admitted. “He did have a complex about masculinity though. That never would have worked.”

Sharon accepted the check from the waiter and handed her card over before Alaska could open her mouth. She signed the check—and Alaska took out cash to leave a tip because she preferred it that way and Sharon saw no reason to needle about it today—and off they went. Instead of calling a car, however, Alaska let Sharon lead them down to the beach to walk along the water, sandals in hand. An early morning deserved a reward.

“Okay, I know the one who gave you that pretty bracelet because it really touched you that he was trying,” Sharon said. She hummed. “Oh, I know the one made you so sad you threw up from crying.”

Alaska shivered and shook her head slightly.

That had been such a bad night—and after her friends had taken her home and consoled her and put her to bed, Alaska had spiraled. They had thought she’d go to sleep given all the drinks she’d had, but alone in the dark of her room, she had been unable to stop thinking about him. Rarely in her life had she been this upset: her violent breakup with Sharon, the leaking scandal on Reddit… and now this.

She had tried to calm herself back down, tried to get herself to breathe and go to sleep, but it was all in vain. She had gotten herself too worked up again and now sat on the edge of her bed shaking with tears running down her face. And there was nobody for her to call! Her boyfriend was the problem. Jeremy was back in PA for a funeral; she couldn’t wake him up with this when he was mourning. Her friends had just left and were probably turning in now, too. And it was so late! So late that… it was early on the east coast. She hadn’t thought twice; she had just clicked the contact in her phone.

“Are you dying?” Sharon’s sleep-thick voice had said on the other end of the phone. “If you’re not dying, you have no business calling me at this hour.”

Alaska had opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was pitiful, shaky breath.

“Fuck,” Sharon had muttered.

Alaska had heard a bed creaking on the other end. Then she had heard Sharon’s muffled voice say, to Chad undoubtedly, “Ssh, no, go back to bed. It’s fine. I’ll be back.”

After a moment, Sharon had said to her, “What’s going on? Are you safe?”

“I’m at home,” Alaska had managed to say between breaths.

“Good,” Sharon had said soothingly. Whenever she talked like that, with that honey-sweet but somehow not patronizing voice, Alaska knew it must be bad. However she sounded to Sharon, it must be bad. “That’s good. What can I do for you?”

“I’m… I’m calling in a lifeline,” Alaska had said.

For a moment, she heard only the click of a lighter and the sound of Sharon inhaling. Then there were crickets. She must have stepped into her backyard to smoke. Alaska could almost picture her sitting on the back stoop.

“Do you want to talk about it or something else?” Sharon had whispered.

Alaska had taken as deep a breath as she could manage, but it had come out shakily and too fast. She sniffed. Did she want to talk about it or did she want Sharon to distract her with something? Sharon could talk about anything with very little input from another person, so it was tempting. She could get lost in one of Sharon’s stories or a lecture on whatever the newest documentary she watched had taught her.

“Tonight,” Alaska had said. “I was out to support a friend’s show, and, and… And my boyfriend had bowed out which was fine.”

“I feel like it’s not going to be fine,” Sharon had muttered. “Sorry. Go on.”

“And so we went to the show, did the whole thing, and then went to, to a, uh, a new, little place to check it out,” Alaska had said. “A bunch of us. Willam was there, and—well, uh, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I see my fucking boyfriend in the bathroom with his dick in someone’s mouth.”

Sharon had hissed.

“Yeah,” Alaska said, “which isn’t the worst part.”

Sharon didn’t say anything. They both walked a fine line when it came to talking about infidelity. It had been a touchy subject for them even still. There still wasn’t enough distance from their breakup to fully acknowledge that part even just between the two of them. They just both knew intimately that infidelity, oddly enough, was never the ‘worst part.’

“It… It was that he said—”

Alaska had cut herself off with a heaving breath and shaky sob. She had always been a crier. She had always hated it about herself. She and Sharon had joked about both of them being criers, but Alaska knew hers was worse. Sharon could be brought to tears over roadkill or a headline or a particularly kind gesture; it was sweet, endearing. Alaska cried at every negative emotion she had which only made it worse because then she was embarrassed and that made her cry more!

“What did he say, sweetheart?” Sharon had asked.

Sweetheart. That hadn’t even been what Sharon had called her most often when they were together, but something about hearing that pet name after her night had Alaska crying harder. Sharon’s soft shushing had been a balm, enough of one for her to collect herself briefly again. Between the drinks and the emotions, Alaska felt wrung out.

“That it was my fault that he did it,” Alaska had said.

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Sharon had said. “It’s never the other person’s fault. You didn’t push his dick into someone’s mouth. ‘Oops, how clumsy!’”

Alaska had snorted and then groaned. She had grabbed for tissues to blow her nose.

“Did I tell you that…” Alaska had sighed. “No, I wouldn’t have told you this. It’s embarrassing. I—forget it.”

“I didn’t know we knew how to be embarrassed in front of each other,” Sharon had said softly.

Alaska had hung her head and let out another shaking breath.

“We don’t,” she had agreed. “No, we don’t do embarrassed in front, in front of each other. Okay, okay… Well, I’m just… It’s that I started this medication for, for—from my psychiatrist, and my body’s still trying to… you know, acclimate.”

Sharon had hummed in acknowledgment.

“And, and so I haven’t really been in the mood,” Alaska had said. Her voice cracked again. For some reason, coming right out and saying, ‘I haven’t wanted sex,’ had seemed so impossible to say, even to Sharon. “And so it’s, ya know, been a while… and he had said it was fine, but it’s clearly not—and he said tonight that—”

Alaska had cut herself off to try to pull herself together. She had felt sick, truly, like she might throw up right there in her bed. She got up to stumble to the bathroom. She knelt on the bathroom rug. Maybe it would pass if she took deep breaths.

“He’s an asshole and I hope he gets gonorrhea ,” Sharon had said. “I… I don’t have a lot of room to talk on this front—” And that was the closest they’d get to talking about the infidelity in their relationship for a long time. “—but I can say that he’s an asshole. As an asshole myself, I have it on good authority.”

“He could have talked to me,” Alaska said between sobs. “Instead, he’s standing there with—he didn’t even stop the guy to talk to me! Getting a blowjob and telling me it’s my fault? Because I’m depressed? I’m depressed and so he had to go get a bathroom blowjob? Hell, I don’t need to get hard to give a blowjob! If he’d told me it was—and that’s so fucked up and, and, I thought I… well, I thought I could love him and—”

Alaska did throw up then. She had slid the phone across the tile to lay her arms over her toilet seat, a pillow for her forehead as she vomited. Too much alcohol, too many emotions, too much crying—she had never stood a chance. When she picked up the phone, she was surprised Sharon was still there—and then she cried more because why had she been surprised? If there was one thing Sharon always was, it was there. Even when she had wanted Sharon to be gone, she was fucking there. But in that moment she didn’t want her gone; she wanted her in the room with her. That had only made her hyperventilate more.

“Justin,” Sharon had said firmly, forcefully. “Breathe. Slow down.”

Alaska listened and focused on her breathing. If she was being Justin-ed, it was bad.

“Did you drink the bar out?” Sharon had asked.

“Yeah,” Alaska had murmured.

“Were you in drag tonight?”

“No.”

“What did you wear?”

“A crop top and these skinny jeans and these black boots,” Alaska had murmured. “I’m growing my hair out.”

“Oh? Long?”

“I’d show you, but I think I’m swollen. My eyes kill.”

“What are the odds you look like a blob fish?” Sharon had asked with an obvious smile in her voice. “Because I’d like to see you if you look like a blob fish.”

“Oh, the odds are good, really good.” Alaska had sniffed. “But you can’t see me. I’ll cry again.”

“No more crying, baby,” Sharon had said. “He’s not worth it. You’re taking care of you with those meds, and you can take care of yourself even further. You know how?”

“How?”

“Take that motherfucker out with the trash. You deserve better than that. He should worship you.”

The ocean waves crashed upon the shore and the water ran up to their feet. Alaska jumped as the cold water lapped at her ankles, bringing her back to the present. She slid her hand into Sharon’s and squeezed.

“You don’t need to know their names,” Alaska said. “They’re nothing.”

Sharon smiled and squeezed Alaska’s hand back. “I lost you there for a minute.”

“That had been such a bad night,” Alaska muttered.

“But we did get that show out of it,” Sharon said. “Remember? You came to New York the next week, and we did all that Bowie?”

Alaska gasped. “Oh, could we do that again? We missed his birthday, but we could go home and do a belated show.”

“Come get up, my baby. Look at that sky. Life’s begun,” Sharon sang. She knocked shoulders with Alaska. “Nights are warm and the days are yo-oung.”

“There’s my baby, lost that’s all! Once I’m begging you save her little so-oul,” Alaska sang back. She grinned. “Come on. We have to. We must. That’s a need.”

“Call someone,” Sharon said. “They’ll book with you.”

* * *

“I wasn’t meant for girl groups,” Sharon said. “I’m sort of a solo act.”

“That is straight-up false,” Violet said with a laugh. “You’ve been half of an unofficial duo for most of your career! You were in a full group of queens before Drag Race! You’re just lying now.”

“Mm, when you put it that way,” Sharon said absently.

She tapped her pencil against her paper. Writing was a challenge still. She’d yet to figure out a way to hold a pencil that made her handwriting look normal with her numb fingers, but she could read it and that was all that mattered, really.

“You just don’t like not being charge,” Violet said. She rolled her eyes.“But Daya won the mini challenge.”

“Exactly,” Daya said. “You should have done better if you wanted to be in charge.”

“Gosh darn, you’re right. I should have done better at blowing that popsicle,” Sharon said in a wholesome voice. “Maybe next time.”

“I thought you prided yourself on being a blowjob artist,” Detox said. “What happened?”

“I’m not used to such little real estate,” Sharon said sadly. “The popsicle was just too small.”

Mistress looked up from her notebook to snort. “Girl, please."

“Aren’t you a top?” Faye asked from the other sofa where a few heroes sat brainstorming their own lyrics.

Sharon cocked her head to the side. “Most of the time.”

“You don’t date Alaska and not get fucked,” Detox said. She chuckled. “The horse mask ain’t just because of her face.”

“I’m going to get in trouble for this talk,” Sharon said, sing-song.

Jinkx scoffed. “No, you are not. You two were incorrigible. The amount of footage and photos online…”

“What?” Faye asked.

“Seriously?” Adore looked at Faye with clear delight. “You don’t know?”

“Sharon was partial to blowing her dear Alaska on stage,” Detox said. “It was a whole thing. Then there was that video where you wore your poodle outfit from the show and walked Alaska like a dog.”

“Oh my god,” Violet said. She smacked her thigh. “And Alaska fake-fucked her as the dog! That made rounds for a while. I remember watching that online secretly and being like, ‘Shit, who are these two?’”

“Aw, and then you were meeting them and stealing crowns in no time,” Detox said. “It’s so nice to see someone achieve their dreams.”

Sharon chuckled. “I don’t think any of this can make the final edit.”

“Wait… but so… you’re a top,” Faye said slowly.

Everyone stopped and looked at her.

“What’s the confusing part, honey?” Sharon asked. She was trying not to laugh.

Adore gave Faye a look. “Girl, have you had sex?”

“Of course!” Faye said. Her cheeks turned bright red. “I’m not, I’m not a prude. I just… there’s all this footage of you blowing Alaska on stage? But you’re a top?”

“Oh, shit,” Jinkx said under her breath. “Wow. What year is it?”

“Now, speaking to you as a sister,” Sharon said seriously. She turned her body completely to face Faye. “If he is not blowing you because ‘he’s a top,’ then please throw that whole guy away because that’s ridiculous.”

“For real,” Mistress said to Faye. “Is he even gay?”

“Well, he doesn’t like it,” Faye said hesitantly. “You shouldn’t make someone do what they don’t like, right?”

“I bet he likes it when you do it,” Detox said. “No, that’s unacceptable. Dump his ass if he’s cool with getting but not giving.”

Sharon threw her notebook to the side. “I’m never going to get this done. I need a walk.”

When she walked away, Violet picked up the notebook and furrowed her brow. She tilted her head this way and that to try to make sense of the writing and then set it back down.

In her confessional, Violet said, “I don’t think we’ve really considered how bad her hand is… or she’s not been lying when she’s been saying she can’t read.”

* * *

“There’s probably going to be an upswing in searches for those videos now,” Alaska drawled into the microphone. She covered her face and groaned. “Sharon, why? ”

“I can’t believe they left it all in!” Sharon exclaimed.

The audience laughed. They were back home and talking to an audience at the Blue Moon Bar. Sharon hadn’t performed here in years, but they’d hesitantly booked Sharon and Alaska both with the promise that it would be all above board—well, as above board as drag could be. So Alaska was the moderator, of sorts, to Sharon’s interviewee.

“They’re getting bold with the edit,” Alaska cried. “They said, ‘Sure, we will let Sharon Needles talk about being a dick pig if it will make her more likable!’”

Sharon laughed and kicked Alaska. “Shut up!”

“Am I wrong?” Alaska asked the crowd. “Is that not a nice sisterly moment? Big sister’s telling little sister that—”

“That ‘ew, blowjobs are gross and gay’ isn’t acceptable,” Sharon finished. “Just like a big sister should. Who amongst us hasn’t had this conversation with their big sister?”

Alaska grinned. “But I am a little shocked by it, Sharon. Like, she’s yoooouuung! And everyone’s so sex positive nooooow. Why is she talking like that? Did she ever really explain?”

“Oh, it’s terrible,” Sharon said. “The push for trad-relationships in queer spaces makes me want to throw up. These men who think they can assert dominance on their ‘lesser’ partner out of some bizarre traditional roles idea? Disgusting.”

“What’s next?” Alaska asked. “Going back to asking who the woman is in the relationship?”

The audience booed and Sharon nodded emphatically at them in agreement.

“I hear what she’s saying sort of,” Alaska said. “Like, the idea of not forcing someone into something they’re not comfortable with? Cool. But I feel like… I don’t know. It’s different.”

“It’s the same thing that straight men do!” Sharon said. “How many of our girlfriends have talked about their boyfriends not going down on them because that’s gay?” She held up her hands. “In their case, it’s literally the opposite. In our case, yes? It is? That’s the point?”

“But like Detox said: you know they expect to get blown without reciprocation,” Alaska said.

“That’s my new political platform,” Sharon said. “Reciprocal oral sex for all!”

"You'd win!" Alaska grinned.

* * *

“Mistress Isabelle Brooks, Violet Chachki, and Sharon Needles, you are all in the bottom for the villains,” Michelle said. “Your girl group number had strong lyrics across the board, but you were missing the cohesion, and it came down to you three. Detox, Daya, and IT Girl carried your group.”

In her confessional, Sharon grimaced and said, “It’s not really a shock. Choreography is not my strong suit.”

“Sharon, your lyrics were great. Your vocals were great,” Michelle said. “Obviously that’s your strength. But you lacked the energy! The choreography was messy; you didn’t sell it. What happened? You usually can ham it up!”

“I don’t really have an explanation, Michelle, honestly,” Sharon said. “I thought I was hamming it up. Clearly, I wasn’t. What’s the opposite of hamming it up? I was salading it down.”

“You can do better than this,” Michelle said sternly to her. “I’ve seen you do better.”

Sharon had the good sense to look chastised. This was a game of survival.

Michelle turned her attention to Mistress next and tore into her for lacking confidence in her dancing and for making excuses about her costume inhibiting her.

“Didn’t you say the same thing on your season? I don’t want to hear excuses. I want to see results,” Michelle said. “You can’t make the same mistake twice and call it an accident.”

In her confessional, Sharon said, “My high school guidance counselor used to ask me, ‘Do you know what it’s called when you make the same mistake twice?’” She paused. “‘A learning disability.’” She laughed airily and shook her head. “Yes, I have a learning disability, and yes, I dropped out of high school. Why do you ask?”

“Violet,” Michelle continued. “You’re not a singing queen.”

“No,” Violet agreed.

“But you can dance,” Michelle said. “You showed us you can move on the very first day. Yet here, you were stiff and your lyrics were stiff. I don’t get it. Did you leave Violet Chachki at the hotel today? Where’s the snappy Violet?”

“She’s here,” Violet said. She tilted her head to the side to look down her nose at Michelle. “Everyone has a weakness. I’m working at this. I worked hard at this. I’m just never going to be Detox or Jinkx or Adore.”

“I’m not asking you to be,” Michelle said. “But you need to do better than this.”

Violet took a deep breath and let it out slowly before saying, “Okay.”

* * *

“Did your guidance counselor really say that to you?” Alaska asked.

“Yes!” Sharon said. “Oh, she was a real bear. She said all sorts of terrible things to students, including blaming victims for their own bullying, but that’s neither here nor there.”

Alaska shook her head. “Are you the narrator of the season?”

“Oh, God,” Sharon said. She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Maybe I am. My narration is highly inappropriate.”

“Shocker!” Alaska laughed.

* * *

“We really just need Sharon in the bottom,” Daya said in her confessional. “This great experiment is over, but it’s time to send her on her way back to her morgue in Pittsburgh.”

“Why does she get on your nerves so much?” the producer asked.

“It’s just… imagine having to spend time with the worst person in the world and people think they’re funny.” Daya shivered. “Like they don’t even hate her? They laugh at her jokes and do bits with her? Has everyone lost their minds? We should be driving her off a cliff! Sometimes, when she talks with that stupid voice, I imagine her vocal cords going numb like her stupid hand did.” She rubbed at her jaw. “That’s probably too far. Jasmine Kennedie’s gonna show up at our reunion to yell at me again.”

Back on the runway, Michelle and the judges called the girls back out to announce the winners and the bottoms.

“Condragulations, IT Girl and Peppermint, you are both the winners of this challenge for your respective groups,” Michelle announced. “You may leave the stage.”

It was another double elimination: Crystal vs Faye and Mistress vs Violet. Sharon slinked back to the space beside Detox and put her hand over her heart to try to still its pounding. That had been too close for her liking.

“The grace of Satan himself kept me out of the bottom two this week!” Sharon said in her confessional. “I can’t end up there again. That was terrible.”

* * *

Sharon looked at her nails and whistled, feigning boredom. The audience laughed.

“Why you so obsessed with me?” Sharon sang. “Girl, I wanna know.”

“No, but seriously!” Alaska said. “Were you getting this feeling on set? Like, did you know she was this intense about you?”

“I mean, she certainly made comments. You’ve seen some and some more are coming,” Sharon said, “but it never occurred to me that she was considering how much she’d enjoy my losing my voice. I didn’t know she was plotting with Ursula to shut me up.”

Alaska laughed.

Sharon pouted. “Oh, but Mistress might be leaving, so I guess the plotting’s done.”

“Sharon,” Alaska chided. She widened her eyes. “Behave.”

Sharon rolled her eyes but held up her hands in surrender.

“But in all seriousness, no, I didn’t know she was this focused on me,” Sharon said. She huffed one of her spooky laughs. “I didn’t realize until… Hm, I don’t think it’s next episode. I think it’ll be in the one after that if I’m remembering the order of the challenges correctly.” She gasped. “Ooh, sorry, spoilers!”

“Are you talking about the part that was previewed after Episode 1?” Alaska asked,

“Yes,” Sharon said. “That’s when I realized Daya was thinking about me far more than I was thinking about her.”

* * *

“Violet, shantay, you stay… Mistress, sashay away.”

“Faye, shantay, you stay… Crystal, sashay away.”

* * *

Alaska pressed her face into the pillow. She could hear Sharon in the bathroom, opening cabinets, running water. Was she showering? But no, instead, Sharon returned to bed with a warm washcloth to clean her up. She always liked when this Sharon showed up after sex. Sharon was never cold after sex—thank God because she could get distant when she got spooked by love, and Alaska would not be able to tolerate that tendency after sex—but sometimes she was especially doting. This was one of those nights. After cleaning her up, Sharon pressed kisses to Alaska’s shoulder and spine before going to throw the washcloth into the hamper. That was a nonnegotiable no matter how tired she was ever since their cats got curious about one she’d tossed on the floor to deal with in the morning. She still shuddered over it.

“Is this because you talked about good tops on national television tonight?” Alaska murmured. “You have something to prove?”

Sharon laughed and crawled into bed. She settled on her side facing Alaska and ran her fingers up and down Alaska’s back. Maybe it was a bit because of the episode that she was in such a good mood. While it had not been a good episode for her as a drag queen, it had been a good episode for conversations about relationships. There was a lot she and Alaska had done wrong in their relationship throughout their years as lovers, friends, and work partners, but one thing they’d always done right together? Sex. They’d always been good to each other in bed—or wherever they were having sex that day.

“Do you know I love you even when I don’t say it?” Sharon asked.

Oh, she was fully in this kind of mood. Alaska smiled. She didn’t mind this one bit.

“Of course. You show me all the time,” Alaska said. She sounded close to sleep; her voice was even slower than usual. “Do you know I love you when I don’t say it?”

“Yes,” Sharon said.

“Liar,” Alaska teased. She shimmied closer to Sharon and turned her head to face her. “You need me to say it.”

Sharon hummed. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” Alaska said. “You need to hear me say it. I swear sometimes you say it just to hear me say it back.”

“That makes me sound terrible,” Sharon said. Her face bloomed with a deep red blush. “That makes it sound like I don’t mean it, that I just say it to get something.”

“No, no, you do. I know you do,” Alaska said. She ran the backs of her fingers over Sharon’s burning cheek. Her poor baby. “We’re just different. You just showed me you loved me. Cleaning me up, getting me water, kissing me? That’s how you tell me. It’s the same feeling for me as it is for you when I say it, I think.”

Alaska knew words were important to Sharon. Those three words were an oath, one that Alaska could keep with her easily—one she’d never stopped keeping if she was honest. Sharon saw power in words; it was one quiet, secret reason why Alaska hated that formal education had been stolen from Sharon. Alaska was sure that Sharon would have liked college classes with interesting topics and space for debates.

Sharon wielded words as a sword so well that perhaps it was best she didn’t ever have the ability to better formally hone the skill. Sharon knew just the right things to say to cut someone down or build them back up. Alaska had been on the receiving end of both throughout their years. Although, the worst was when Sharon withheld words altogether. Silence was deadly.

But all of that to say that Sharon needed to hear it. She needed Alaska to tell her she loved her to know it was true. It wouldn’t be enough for Alaska to dote on Sharon alone; that wouldn’t fill her. On the other hand, Sharon had told Alaska she loved her when she woke up early to get them a table at the cafe; when she requested one of their songs at Violet’s party; when she got Alaska extra-hot hot chocolate with almond milk at the airport without being asked; when she came right into the house and took care of the litter boxes before Alaska even had to think about them.

Was it such a big deal that Sharon had to hear it to believe it? No. That was such an easy thing to do to make her happy—and dare Alaska say it, make her feel safe? Alaska pushed up onto her elbow to look down at Sharon who raised her eyebrows at her in question.

“I love you,” Alaska whispered. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Sharon smiled. “I know.”

“Okay, Han Solo,” Alaska said. She flopped back down on the bed and pressed Sharon onto her back so she could curl up against her chest. “I always wanted Han Solo.”

“Naturally,” Sharon murmured. She wrapped her arm around Alaska. “You wanted to be Princess Leia, right? I think you told me that once.”

“Of course I told you that because that’s so embarrassing,” Alaska said.

“It’s not embarrassing,” Sharon said. “But the fact that we haven’t gotten you in a gold bikini yet is criminal.”

Alaska closed her eyes and nuzzled Sharon’s chest. She could easily see herself falling off to sleep here with Sharon’s arm around her, her hand lightly scratching her back, the post-sex glow still lingering. Wax jumped into bed to curl by their feet and it was perfect. It would only be better if their other cat Dorothy would join them, but she spent her nights running around their living room like a madwoman.

Alaska was just starting to drift off when she heard Sharon’s whisper against her hair: “I love you, too. I really, really do.”

Chapter Text

Episode 4 Synopsis: This week, the queens show what they’re made of at the Four Seasons Ball! Get out your parkas, ready your suntan lotion, and grab a rake, you won’t want to miss these styles! However, a twist in the elimination might make you want to put on your Army greens, too! You’ve heard of Lip Sync Assassins… but what about Lip Sync Mercenaries?

* * *

“I need to hear you say you’ll do it,” Chad had said. “I need to see… change.”

Aaron had shaken his head and laughed bitterly. “Are you serious?”

“The fact that you won’t say it tells me that there’s smoke,” Chad had said, “and where there’s smoke there’s—”

“A fog machine,” Aaron had said. His voice had dripped with disdain. “There’s nothing there. There will never be anything there again because you are occupying that space now.”

Chad had turned away from Aaron to face the windows that overlooked New York. He shook his head and spun back around, pointing at Aaron like he was about to lay into him. But then Aaron flinched and pressed his back further into the sofa. It happened so quickly that he didn’t even have time to play it off like he was just getting comfortable.

“What?” Chad had said, eyes big. “Oh my God. You act like I’m a monster. What? You think I’m going to hit you? Do you think so little of me?”

Aaron had crossed his arms over his chest. It had been unconscious, the flinch, but of course Chad had seen it. He was a details man; he had to be for his work. Usually, Aaron adored it about him. Chad noticed everything and made sure you knew it, too. If you changed something up about yourself, he would see it and compliment you within seconds. Aaron had seen Chad, quiet Chad, win over even the hardest to please with how he saw people.

But that didn’t change the fact that Aaron wished those artist eyes hadn’t seen him flinch just now. It always made them both feel bad—and Aaron wasn’t going to explain it even if it meant it would make Chad feel better. The last thing he needed was Chad having another reason to distrust—and maybe even hate—Alaska. For a little while longer, that secret was safe. It was a secret that kept them all happy, even if Chad didn’t realize it. They had sacrifices to make: Aaron sacrificed dignity; Chad sacrificed peace of mind.

“It’s not all about you,” Aaron had said.

“No, it’s all about you,” Chad had said.

“Yes, it is, and that’s nothing new. Keep up.”

He got up and stepped around Chad to grab his jacket from the hook and his phone from where it was plugged into the charger.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll figure it out once I get there,” Aaron had said. “I can’t keep looking at you.”

“Aaron,” Chad had said softly. “Wait.”

He always gave in. Always! Even when Aaron wanted him to yell at him, to call him out, to fight with him, Chad would soften, would apologize first, would defer to Aaron. Most of the time, this was very convenient as it meant Aaron nearly always got his way. But sometimes? Sometimes, Aaron stopped being mad and just was disgusted. He wanted to yell at Chad and tell him to fight for once! Have enough fire in you to fucking stick to your convictions! How could Chad think Aaron was scared of him—that it was him who brought fear into Aaron and not a remnant of a past life, not an unconscious move that he loathed about himself—when Chad couldn’t even manage an argument?

“No,” Aaron had said. “I’ll be back.”

With that, Aaron had left the hotel room and headed out into the streets of New York. He slipped his sunglasses on and got lost in the crowd. He had secured a last-minute club gig for him and Alaska to perform that night as a way to get her out of California for a bit after her breakup. They had decided on a Bowie tribute. With its being so last minute, they had needed something they could both do easily, and Bowie was the obvious move.

Aaron’s phone had buzzed. He had expected Chad, but it was Alaska’s name on his Caller ID.

“Hey, Lask,” Aaron had said in greeting. “Are you here already?”

“I’m at the venue,” Alaska said, “and it’s a perfect little hole in the wall!”

“You said you wanted intimate. Doesn’t that fit the bill?”

“It does!” Alaska had sounded awed. “Have you performed here before?”

“No,” Aaron had said. “I asked a friend for a rec and he pulled some strings for me.”

“What are you doing? Come see it.”

Aaron had thought about Chad back at the hotel—assuming he hadn’t gone out, too, but Aaron doubted it; Chad would wait for him to come back first—and how he’d feel if he knew what Alaska wanted.

Tell me you’ll cut back with Alaska. Tell me you won’t take the calls at all hours. Don’t keep doing all these shows with him. I’m sick of Alaska sleeping between us in bed.

What an impossible ask it had been. How could Aaron have ever done it? How could Chad have asked for it? To cut out Alaska? It would have been easier to drain the blood from his veins.

“Okay,” Aaron had said. He had spun around to look for the nearest staircase to the subway. “Give me a few and I’ll be there.”

Aaron had only just stepped into the little club when Alaska had come jogging up to him. She had thrown her arms around Aaron and held on so tightly that Aaron briefly worried that perhaps Alaska was going to drop some very, very bad news. But when Alaska had pulled away, she was all smiles.

“You look so good!” she had said.

It was obvious she meant it, too. That was one thing that was so great about Alaska: she said what she meant, either with her words, her face, or both.

“I think I say that every time I see you, but I can’t get over it, Sharon!” Alaska had held her at an arm’s length as she studied her. “What’s different?”

Sharon had smiled and shook her head. “Nothing, doll, honest to God, nothing.”

“Well, okay,” Alaska had said. She had stepped further into the venue and spun around. “Where’s Chad? I want to show him a photo of this breastplate I saw. I want to commission him.”

Sharon had only laughed softly to herself. There Chad was worried about Alaska and her… and here Alaska was thinking about giving Chad money to make her something. Unreal.

“Hey.”

Sharon looked over to see Alaska in the doorway of their kitchen. She stood in her underwear, mug in one hand and the other up playing with a curl at the back of her head. Dorothy wound her way around Alaska’s legs, purring so loudly that Sharon could hear her from across the room. Sharon raised her eyebrows—Yes?—and Alaska smiled and shook her head—Nothing. Just you.

“So New York for Episode 4,” Sharon said.

“Yes!” Alaska said. She set the mug on the coffee table and flopped down beside Sharon. “Oh, I agreed to be a surprise guest for Izzy Uncut while we’re there.”

“I don’t know her,” Sharon said. She reached out to twirl one of Alaska’s curls now; she’d made it look so enticing, after all. “What’s her thing?”

“She’s one of Jan’s friends,” Alaska said. She leaned her head into Sharon’s palm. “Stunty, dancing. She was a cheerleader, so she’s got the chops there, you know? She’s funny.”

Sharon hummed. “Sounds fun. What will you do?”

“First of all, love when you lie to be nice to me. That absolutely does not sound fun to you,” Alaska said.

She laughed and leaned forward to kiss Sharon, but Sharon turned away.

“No, no, no!” Sharon said. She turned her head this way and that to avoid Alaska’s lips. “You can’t be mean to me and then expect kisses.”

“I can and I will and I do!” Alaska said.

She wasted no time straddling Sharon’s lap. She grabbed her face and looked down at her with a wide, triumphant smile. She ran her thumbs over Sharon’s cheekbones.

“Second of all, she’s bringing me in to do ‘Boss Bitch’ which I’m totally here for ,” Alaska said. “I’m still trying to decide on my other song. She wants me to do one of mine.”

“Is this before or after the episode?” Sharon asked.

“The night before. You have a show the night after.”

“Perfect, I’ll get tip money.” Sharon winked.

“You’re gonna tip me?” Alaska giggled. There was something exciting about being tipped by your loved ones. “For real?”

“For real, for real,” Sharon said in her best valley girl voice.

Alaska leaned in to kiss her quiet.

* * *

Sharon had meant it, of course, when she said she was planning on tipping Alaska that night. That was the fun of seeing her baby do a little venue: the access. Sharon didn’t go in drag. That was just asking for attention—and that was incredibly rude when one of the performers wasn’t a Ru Girl. Instead, Sharon sat at a hightop in purple velvet flares and a vintage hot pink tank top that said PUNK ROCK: THREAT TO WORLD ORDER? NATIONS ALARMEDacross the chest. Add to that her ashy bleached hair and big, black glasses, and she certainly wasn’t a wallflower, but she wasn’t going to sit there in drag and steal focus.

She had a beer by her right hand and a pencil in her left. She had finally figured out the best way to hold a pencil to avoid any pain: with the point down between her pinky and ring finger and the shaft of it leaning against her palm and up between her thumb and forefinger. It still wasn’t perfect, but she could write and draw with much better success now. She had set up here earlier in the night, when it was still pretty empty, and started sketching. She had drawn a few looks: a dress with pronounced pointed shoulders and a plunging neckline that she could imagine with a lacy black bra for herself; a halter crop-top and a low-rise mini skirt that she could see on Alaska; and then countless dramatic silhouettes that were wholly impractical but just interesting. Sketching was easier than writing; it was allowed to be messy.

“Drawing at the club?” a man suddenly asked from beside her.

“So it would seem,” Sharon said absently. She hadn’t jumped, but her heart rate had picked up.

“What are you drawing?”

“Clothes,” Sharon said.

She finally looked up at the intruder now leaning against her table. Usually, Sharon was happy to talk, but she knew a pick-up when it came her way—just like she knew when it was going to be a bully-you-a-little-to-show-I’m-into-you type. This guy? If his tone hadn’t given it away, his look did. He was your classic muscle gay: waxed, tanned, and wearing a folded bandana around his head along with a tank top with such big arm and neck holes that he might as well not wear anything at all. Sharon was simultaneously repulsed by and embarrassed for him.

“Are you a designer?” he asked.

Sharon snorted. “That’s sweet. No, I’m not. I’m just killing some time before the show.”

“Oh, yeah, Izzy does a great show,” he said. “She’s an incredible athlete. She’s sick.”

“What an interesting thing to say about a drag queen,” Sharon said. “Are those the comments you always lead with?”

“Aw, what? It’s supposed to be all about looks?” he asked. “That’s so reductive. What? You think it’s only about looks? Izzy’s seriously athletic.”

So reductive. That’s so reductive. Don’t reduce the men spending hours to dress as women to their image alone. So reductive. You spent how long painting those eyes and contouring your collar? Oh, well! Say you hate women without saying you hate women.

Sharon had to work hard not to laugh at her own internal monologue. She drank the rest of her beer and pressed the can down flat against the table to join the other can-coins she’d crushed earlier. The man watched her as she picked up her pencil and flipped to a clean page in her book. She started drawing the wing of a crow.

“I’m Jesse,” he said.

“Hi, Jesse,” Sharon said blandly.

Jesse laughed. “Wow, you’re a tough one to crack. That’s okay. I’m patient. What’s your name?”

“Aaron,” she said, and never had her own name sounded so uninviting coming from her own lips. “How much longer are we going to play this game?”

“Oh, Aaron, you wound me.” Jesse clutched his chest. He grinned. “What? Can’t I come talk to the weird, little punk drawing in the club?”

“I mean, you are certainly trying to talk to me,” Sharon said, “but you’re not succeeding. For someone so worried about being reductive with drag queens, you sure haven’t been much a conversationalist.”

“Playing hard to get, I get it,” Jesse said. “I like a challenge.”

Sharon laughed humorlessly. “Let me guess, you have trouble with ‘no,’ too, don’t you?”

Jesse pulled out the chair on the other side of the table and hopped up. He held his hands out and smiled at Sharon.

“Well, there’s that answer,” Sharon said. “So is this a bet with your friends? We’re very different.”

“Not a bet.”

“Bucket list? A collect-em-all situation? A fetish?” Sharon asked. “A dare? Charity?”

Jesse laughed. “Why are you shocked I wanna talk to you? You don’t fit here at all. That’s interesting, right?”

Sharon knew what he meant. Yes, drawing in the club was weird obviously, but her whole vibe didn’t match this club. Everyone here was more of the Jesse type: standardly attractive, very little clothing, fake tans, an odd amount of neon (?).

The lights went out then and several people screamed. When they came back up Izzy Uncut, blonde and wearing an orange minidress, stood center stage. She started her number which prompted Sharon to close her notebook. She didn’t even notice that Jesse had left until he came back with a can of beer for her after the third song. She sighed and gave him a long look. Well, she’d misread him. He wasn’t the bully-flirt type; he was just bad at taking a hint.

Izzy stepped off the stage to work the crowd. She accepted tips with lingers touches and posed for selfies. When she came over to Sharon, she pulled on Sharon's tank top.

“Okay, pink top,” Izzy said. “Unexpected. Not what I would have thought you’d wear”

“You don’t like it?” Sharon asked with a fake pout.

“No, it’s good!” Izzy glanced at Jesse and then back at Sharon. “Who’s he?”

“A fruit fly,” Sharon said.

“Ouch,” Jesse said. “Damn.”

“You look beautiful,” Sharon said to Izzy. She tucked a ten-dollar bill into her dress. “Orange is your color. That’s not easy.”

“Thank you!” Izzy beamed.

With that, she returned to the stage to finish up the end of the song.

“So you know her?” Jesse asked.

“I met her this morning,” Sharon said. “She’s a good performer—and orange really is good on her.”

“Are you trying to hit that? Is that what’s up?”

Sharon curled her lip and opened her mouth to refute it, but the song ended with a record scratch that stole her focus. She looked up at the stage in time to see Alaska take two long strides out onto the stage and start to sing ‘Boss Bitch’ in her signature drawling voice. The crowd went wild; this was quite the get for a surprise guest! While Alaska sang, Izzy danced around the stage and eventually flipped (literally) back into the crowd.

“Is that…?”

“Yes,” Sharon said. “Alaska.”

“Fuck,” Jesse said. “That’s a damn good get. She’s mega famous.”

“Mega,” Sharon echoed with vocal fry that rivaled Alaska’s.

People had started to crowd the stage in earnest now, so Sharon slid from her seat to go up to it, too. She slipped between two people to lean against the lip of the stage. Alaska hadn’t spotted her yet, too busy singing out to the crowd and looking to the right, and that was okay with Sharon. She was able to really watch Alaska this way. However, when she did finally turn her way, she smiled and pulled out a fifty.

Alaska saw Sharon’s hair before she saw the bill. She crouched down at the edge of the stage in front of her and bounced on the balls of her feet as she finished up the rest of the song. She reached out to stroke Sharon’s cheek and that’s when Sharon flashed the fifty. Alaska moaned the last line.

“I think someone’s trying to get lucky tonight,” she said breathily into the mic. She took the fifty from Sharon’s hands, sliding her fingers along Sharon’s slowly. She tucked it into her bra. “Thank you, handsome.”

“Gorgeous and live singing?” Sharon said. “You deserve it.”

Alaska giggled. “Do you know my catalogue?”

“I do,” Sharon said, barely suppressing a smile.

“What should I sing from it?”

Sharon clicked her tongue. She hadn’t expected the power there. She wanted to pick something that this club would be able to enjoy but a deep enough cut that Alaska would have a bit of a challenge. Alaska turned the mic to her.

“‘Snaked,’” Sharon said.

“Oh, shit!” Alaska said. A few people laughed. “God, I hope I remember all the words. Okay, let’s do it. Can you hit ‘Snaked’ for me? Thanks!”

Before Alaska stood back up, she stroked Sharon’s cheek one more time and ran her nail over her lower lip. She pressed the point of her press-on into it and smirked. She hissed like a snake and started rapping. As Sharon had hoped, this club’s scene liked it. She slipped out of the gathering crowd to find her seat again. Much to her disappointment, Jesse was still there.

“How much did you tip her to get her like that?” Jesse asked.

“What she should get every time someone hands her a bill,” Sharon said. “You’re still here?”

Jesse shrugged a shoulder and Sharon rolled her eyes. She rocked to the song and tapped her foot on the footrest of her stool. Alaska was just hypnotic.

“She’s cool,” Jesse said.

“Hella cool,” Sharon mocked.

Alaska walked off the stage to work the crowd—a rarity for her now because of the larger venues she played—and Sharon’s heart raced. Nothing was going to happen, but what if it did? She watched Alaska walk, barely clocking that Jesse was talking at her; she was ready to pounce if Alaska needed her. Alaska could handle herself, of course, but Sharon would handle it for her if given the chance.

But instead, Alaska simply worked the crowd and collected tips. She made her way over to Sharon with a smirk. She danced in front of her, spinning around to shake her ass against Sharon’s knees. Sharon took advantage and tucked another bill in the waistband of her skirt. Alaska spun around to face her.

“I got you, gal!” She sang.

Then she held the mic out to Sharon and cocked a brow.

“Ten-thousand, ten-thousand dollars, all via PayPal,” Sharon sang. “Via PayPal!”

Alaska took the mic back and continued the song, moving along to Jesse and then the next table before making her way back on stage. Sharon watched with undisguised devotion. In this setting, singing a raw song like this, she could almost see the messy queen at the Blue Moon from once upon a time.

“Aaron,” Jesse said.

Sharon hummed.

“You know her personally?”

“Intimately, even.”

Jesse nodded slowly. “Would I know you by another name?”

“Almost assuredly,” Sharon said.

“Sharon Needles?” he suggested.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

With that, Jesse got up and left the table. Sharon could only laugh. He was young, too young to have watched her season, and not a big enough Drag Race fan to have grabbed Alaska’s name out of thin air when she came on stage—but he knew enough to know he was supposed to hate her. Oh, that’s hilarious.

Now she did pull the beer forward he bought for her. She cracked it open and took a long sip. Now it was worth it.

* * *

“Do you mind speaking about Alaska?” the interviewer asked.

Sharon laughed. “Do I mind? I do it all the time.”

“Well, some people like to keep that side of themselves private.”

“When has anything about us been private?” Sharon asked. “No, please, talk to me about my baby. What do you want to know?”

Sharon had agreed to a sit-down with an up-and-coming queer magazine that focused on the grittiness, the realness, of queerness in America. It was pushing back on the sanitized, we’re-just-like-you message that queer people had adopted decades earlier to ingratiate themselves with straight people. Sure, everyone was human, the magazine said, but being queer was different than living in the heteronormative box—and that was a good thing! Sharon loved it. She gladly accepted their interview request and sat for it before the fourth episode’s viewing party

“Well, in her book—actually, let’s start back: that book of hers,” he said.

“My Name’s Yours, What’s Alaska? available where books are sold.” Sharon winked and pointed into the camera. “What about her book?”

“I’ll cut to the chase: you don’t come off good in it,” the interviewer said. “Did you know the framing of it?”

“The framing?” Sharon asked. “There are only a few moments where I’d like to say, ‘Alaska, baby, maybe we could pull the camera back a little and show the whole scene,’ but overall, I mean… that was me.” She huffed one of her theatrical laughs despite speaking quite clearly as herself and not her character. “Yes, we talked about it a lot. She’d call me to read sections to me, and I’d add bits or fill in other spots.” She sighed. “Sadly, it’s pretty accurate. I was not a good boyfriend. We had good times, sure, but I was not… I was not a good partner.”

“How are things different now?”

“Oh, in so many ways,” Sharon said emphatically. “I’m a late bloomer, you see? I’m really fucked up. I feel like normal people get their heads on straight by… what? Mid-twenties? I think I was well into my thirties when my frontal lobe fully formed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, not literally, obviously. I don’t think I’ve been running around without full functionality—although, some people would say I must have on account of how I’ve acted—but I feel like I did more of my maturing and actual thinking starting later than everyone else,” Sharon said, “and that’s definitely translated in my Round 2 with Alaska. I’m not saying I’m perfect by any means. Christ, I’m sure she could cite some bad calls from me, but I think generally, I’m just… less insecure? Less volatile? I think I can listen better?”

Sharon hoped it was true at least. She was trying. She could feel the difference this time around at least. She wasn’t as scared this time. There wasn’t that bone-crushing, heart-wrenching, brain-melting feeling of Alaska’s going to break my heart and leave me and I’m going to be all alone! that had worked its way into her mind at all times their first time together.

“When I was younger, I was… I was so afraid that I wasn’t going to be all right,” Sharon said sadly, “and she bore the brunt of that. When things went wrong, I looked to my right and saw her and wondered, ‘Why the fuck did you do that? Or why didn’t you stop it? Or why don’t you help me?’ That wasn’t fair.”

“We saw some of that in her book,” the interviewer said. “I always think about this one scene where you thought she was breaking up with you? You wanted her to say it was going to be okay?”

“That sounds right,” Sharon said. “I don’t remember the moment you’re talking about because there were so many, but that sounds like how I was.”

“The heart pizza?”’

“Oh, fuck.” Sharon covered her eyes even as she smiled. “Yes, I remember that, okay. Yes, I thought she was breaking up with me on my birthday and that was… Yes, she was the one who had hurt me—totally accidentally, if I recall, because I just misunderstood her—but then I wanted her to make me feel better.” She sighed. “I still do that. We get in a snit and she is the one I want to comfort me. Obviously she doesn’t want to do that! She wants to go away and cool down! She doesn’t want to look at me! And I’m here saying, ‘Baby, I know we just fought, but can you promise me that you love me and that it’s okay?’”

“And does she?” he asked.

Sharon smiled and nodded slowly as she ran her fingers through the ends of her long, brunette wig. It was silky, shiny, and poker straight, not her usual type, but she was trying something a little new. It was one Alaska’s actually.

“Yes, she does in fact” Sharon said. “She’s started ending any argument or, or fight with, ‘I still love you. We’re not breaking up over this. Don’t spiral. I have to go out and breathe though.’” She cleared her throat and laughed. It was thick sound, wet with almost-tears. “It’s, well, its’s actually so damn endearing and wonderful that just saying it has me a little—”

Sharon looked down at her lap and massaged her numb fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you with that.”

“Upset me?” Sharon laughed, loud and high. “No! I’m not upset. I’m lucky.”

* * *

IT Girl, in a denim bodysuit with denim elbow-length gloves and denim thigh-high boots, came sliding across the green room—literally. She slid right into Sharon’s space to hug her. With her frayed edges and dark makeup, she gave an edgier Symone. Sharon thought it suited her.

“Oh, are you drunk?” Sharon asked. She hugged her back.

“A little, but really, I did a painful Episode 3 viewing party, and I’m realizing how good I have it tonight with you and Alaska,” she said.

Alaska laughed from where she sat powdering her face. “Who’d you do it with?”

“Crystal and Daya,” IT Girl said sadly. “You two are fucking dating, and you don’t make me feel like a third wheel like those two did!”

“Well, you haven’t gone on with us yet,” Sharon said, “so don’t get too excited. We might be terrible.”

“Well, you’re terrible,” Alaska said. “I’ll make sure you’re in it, IT.”

Sharon was glad Alaska hadn’t put her wig on yet because it allowed her to pull one of Alaska’s curls as punishment. As she’d expected and hoped, Alaska yelped and spun around to smack her. Sharon playfully curled her lip at her and then gave her attention back to IT Girl.

“I’m glad none of my people are with Daya tonight,” Sharon said. “I think she’s with Faye.”

“Oh my God, is it this episode?” IT Girl asked. “Oh, it is! It’s the ball!”

“I’m both looking forward to it and really nervous about it,” Alaska said, looking at them in the mirror. “Sharon explained it to me, but seeing it is totally different.”

Alaska was also more than a little concerned about how it was all going to be edited. It did seem like Daya was getting the villainous edit, but this was Sharon in question; they could be waiting to turn on her, to make her the Big Bad Wolf everyone thought she was. Alaska smacked her lips together to spread her lipstick.

“Are we ready?” Sharon asked. She put her hands on Alaska’s shoulders and rested her chin atop her head. “You’re gorgeous. I think you’re ready.”

“Well, I need a wig,” Alaska said slowly. “That feels crucial.”

IT Girl snorted, but she looked away quickly when Sharon tried to give her a long look.

* * *

“For this week’s challenge, you’re going to a ball!” Michelle said. “You will be serving seasonal realness with our Four Seasons Ball!”

She stepped back to allow the Pit Crew to bring in boxes of supplies: all nonconventional. There wasn’t a stitch of fabric in sight. Michelle smiled as the queens tried to get on their toes to look at what their options were.

“You were all told to bring three seasons from home,” she said, “and you will construct your final season with what you find here. We have assigned you boxes this time, however, based on the season you still need to complete.”

The Pit Crew then spun the boxes around to reveal their names on them. Each queen had one large box and one small box. The Pit Crew began to wheel the boxes to their queens.

In her confessional, Jinkx said, “It was nice knowing you all. I imagine this will be my final episode because design challenges are not my strong suit.”

Violet didn’t even wait for Michelle to dismiss them; she just walked over to her station to look inside her box. Luckily, it made Michelle laugh and signal to her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Violet,” Michell said, “is the show getting in the way?”

Violet at least had the good manners to look apologetic as she sauntered back over to the rest of the queens. She gave her a rueful smile.

“You said design. You put out my boxes,” Violet said. “I lost my head.”

“How is your head?” Michelle asked.

“I haven’t had any complaints,” Violet said.

“Legend has it that Miss Fame still wonders what that question could mean,” Detox said dryly. “Somewhere in Europe, surrounded by chickens and her hot husband, she asks herself that question.”

The queens laughed. Michelle did, too, but then she clapped her hands together.

“All right, ladies! You have two days to get yourself together for the Four Seasons Ball,” Michelle said. “Get to it!”

With that, she and the Pit Crew left and the queens turned to their stations. Some started to go through their items while others went to pull their other looks. The camera panned over each queen, but when it got to Sharon, it slowed down. She was pulling out outfits made of sheet music. She gingerly laid them out on the empty table beside hers.

“Sharon?” Adore called. “What are those?”

“My looks,” Sharon said.

Adore and Peppermint both walked over to look at them.

“I don’t get it,” Adore said. “How is this weather? It’s music.”

Sharon gently worked a dress with ripped, cascading, orange papers onto a form as they watched. The music was printed in metallic gold ink Then she laid her jacket over another form’s shoulders. She let the trousers stay on the table nearby, however, to avoid any issues. This look was shredded and pink; the shredding made it fluffy. Her third look was green and structured: a tailored jumpsuit. They were intricate, three-dimensional. They were art.

“Vivaldi,” Sharon said.

Jinkx blinked hard. “Oh my God. ‘The Four Seasons,’ the music!”

In her confessional, Detox said, “Well, okay, Sharon. Her pussy? Stepped up. Our pussies? Desert conditions. Menopausal.” She sighed. “And she’s the oldest one here!”

“So she can play paper dolls,” Daya said in her confessional. “Good for her.”

* * *

“Literally, y’all,” IT Girl said to the crowd. “She pulled out that paper and I watched hearts break around the work room. Daya looked pissed.”

“She was pissed,” Sharon said.

“Paper dolls!” Alaska rolled her eyes. “She’s so bitter boots.”

IT Girl sipped her drink. “I mean, it was cool. Nobody else had anything like it. How’d you come up with it?”

“We were joking about it,” Sharon admitted. She signaled to herself and Alaska. “We just kept saying ‘The Four Seasons’ and then we got to hotels and then Alaska—”

“No, it was you,” Alaska interrupted. “You said it was like the music and joked about what it would look like, and I said you should actually do it.”

“Did you guys make these?” IT Girl asked.

“Oh, no, we’re not that good,” Sharon said. “We drew them up, sure, but I had them made.”

“Soooo many pages and pages and pages of paper dresses,” Alaska said. “We did make little ones though!” She gasped. “We could play dolls with them.”

“Someone call Trixie,” Sharon said dryly. “We need some of her dolls to put in Vivaldi-inspired dresses to make Daya happy.”

* * *

“What are you working on Sharon?” Michelle asked.

“Well,” Sharon said..

She finished her last fold before looking up at Michelle, who was staring at her forms rather than her paper-folding. Michelle walked around each of them without a word. Once she had returned to her spot, she raised her eyebrows.

“What are these?” Michelle asked.

“Michelle, ma belle, these are words that go together well,” Sharon said, sing-songy. “Are you familiar with Vivaldi?”

Michelle gasped and looked at the dresses again. She leaned in to really look at the prints on the orange dress and gasped again as she realized what that was: the actual sheet music to ‘Autumn’ by Vivaldi.

“Sharon, this is incredible.”

“Thank you!” Sharon beamed. “I wanted a fresh take on the seasons, and so I went back to the 18th century.”

Michelle laughed. “So what are you doing for your winter look?”

“Icicles,” Sharon said. She showed her the papers she was folding and rolling. “Icicles everywhere.”

“No real sewing here,” Michelle said. “Can you sew?”

“I can sew,” Sharon said. “I just can’t right now.”

“Why’s that?”

“I injured my hand on the Anniversary Tour,” Sharon explained.

“Oh, that’s right,” Michelle said. “Remind me of what happened.”

They both knew this was an act; of course Michelle knew about Sharon’s hand.

“Well, I damaged my nerves,” Sharon said, “after I beat up a transphobe who hit Sasha Colby.” She held up her left hand and pointed to her thumb, index finger, and middle finger. “These three are all connected via the median nerve which goes up the arm to the shoulder. That’s what I damaged.”

“So what’s that mean for you?”

“It means I’ve got numbness and pain in these fingers,” Sharon said. “Obviously I punch with my dominant hand, so—”

“Oh, you’re left handed!” Michelle gasped. “Oh, that didn’t even occur to me. I thought—oh, Sharon, that’s really unfortunate.”

“It is,” Sharon said, “so I’m avoiding having to be too perfect with my stitches. My icicles should help me there.”

Michelle nodded. “Well, I’m sorry that you ended up with a lasting injury after that. That’s really a shame. Get back to work. I’m excited to see this.”

* * *

“I don’t think any of us really realized how bad it was until we heard you say that,” IT Girl said. “Like we all saw you struggling to write or the weird way you do your makeup—”

“I love that you’re setting this up like you all were watching me suffer like ‘Well, there she goes again!’” Sharon laughed. “The empathy amongst sisters? Unmatched.”

IT Girl laughed. “They didn’t show it, but I had the perfect view when that conversation was happening. Adore, Faye, and Daya all looked at their hands as you were talking about it and flexed their fingers, all that. It was really funny. I think you can hear me laughing in the background.”

“I’m shocked we don’t have a Daya confessional saying I deserve numb fingers,” Sharon teased.

“She realized she went too far with it already last episode,” Alaska said. “IT, they have you under the radar right now. How were you feeling?”

“I was feeling good actually,” she said. “So I was adopted by a little old lady, right?” The audience laughed and so did IT Girl. “No, wait, I swear that’s important info. She’s a little old lady and she’s obsessed with crafts. Like you know that old, white lady you see in JoAnn’s? That’s my mom. She’s there and she’s ready, bitch. Well, so as soon as I moved in with her, I was crafting: sewing, knitting, embellishing, everything. I was comfortable!”

“That’s actually really, really sweet,” Alaska said. “She supports you?”

“Oh, yeah,” IT Girl said. “She loves my drag. She made me these shoes actually! Got the denim right, cut up the right jeans, everything.”

The audience clapped and cheered.

“Yes, that’s right. Clap for good parents!” Sharon called. “It should be the bare minimum, but it is not, so we will praise.”

“Halleloo,” IT Girl said with her hand up as if in worship.

* * *

“No, Sharon, really! Come here,” Jinkx said. “I’m serious. The children need to be taught. It won’t take long. You’ve got plenty of time to keep playing with paper.”

Sharon had been folding paper, but when Jinkx summoned her like that, she went to her. She stopped by Jinkx with a little hop and salute.

“At your service,” Sharon said.

“I wish you were in drag,” Jinkx said with a pout.

“I’m sorry to let you down,” Sharon said dryly. “I could put on a wig and lipstick and terrify the children. I am not fish, honey.”

A few queens laughed, but nearly all of them were watching. For some of them, these had been the queens they grew up with on their TVs and watching YouTube. To be on a season with them? To get to watch their schtick so intimately? It was excitement that was clearly painted across their faces. For others, it was pure nostalgia, reminders of a bygone era.

“So we used to do this a lot,” Jinkx said. “Not on stage or anything—well, no, on stage.”

“Yes, on stage,” Sharon said. “Just it wasn’t an official number or anything. We’d do it at Q&As or meet-and-greets. We really should have made it a bigger thing.”

“You still could,” Detox said from her seat. She didn’t look up from her sewing machine, but she was aware of which bit Jinkx wanted to do. She signaled to the room.“They’re letting Sharon out of her cage now.”

“And she’s been doing just fine,” Violet quipped with a smirk.

Sharon slid to the side to stand in front of Jinkx who put her hands on Sharon’s waist. Jinkx tapped her fingers against Sharon’s sides in thought and then started singing ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’ by Queen. Without missing a beat, Sharon began to lip sync to Jinkx’s singing with exaggerated wide eyes and the right ‘vibrato’ on her lips.

“Did this bitch not just say she’s bad at lip syncing the other day?” Faye asked. “This doesn’t look bad to me, shit.”

“No, not bad at all,” Adore agreed. “Switch songs, switch songs!”

Jinkx laughed—and Sharon mimed doing that, too, which made IT Girl snort and cover her mouth—and then started singing ‘Mr. Brightside’ by The Killers, inspired by Violet’s little joke. Again, Sharon jumped into lip syncing to her without hesitation.

In her confessional, Sharon said, “We used to do it all the time. Sometimes it wasn’t even for fans. We just liked to see if the other could do it, if we could trip each other up. If she came up behind me like that, I knew what was coming.” She laughed and sighed. “I miss those days. Those were good days.”

Jinkx smacked Sharon’s ass and said, “Okay, go back to your paper. I have to go back to my… whatever I’m making that’ll send me home because I’m so fucking bad at sewing.”

“Thanks, coach!” Sharon said cheerfully before slo-mo jogging back to her table. “I’m really mixing my macho metaphors today. Army, sports…”

In her confessional, Violet rolled her eyes and clapped on beat as she said, “Drag queens need to know how to sew!” She groaned. “How many seasons need to go by before everyone learns to make a skirt and top or dress? I’m not even talking about pants! Am I asking for the moon?”

* * *

“When I call your name, please step forward,” Michelle said. “Sharon Needles, Jinkx Monsoon, and Detox, you… may leave the stage. You are not in the top or bottom tonight.”

The camera captured the looks of shock on everyone’s faces. Even Sharon didn’t have the ability to keep her mouth shut. She eventually managed to close it, but her brow stayed furrowed. Everyone had expected her in the top, so this was truly a face crack moment!

“Please leave the stage,” Michelle said again.

Jinkx and Detox exited first. As Sharon headed to the main aisle of the runway, Violet reached back to touch her hand. Sharon managed to grasp her fingers quickly.

“It’s yours to win then,” Sharon whispered to Violet.

She had to win it. If Sharon’s collection wasn’t going to win, Violet’s bug looks had to be the winners: jewel beetle, lightning bug, red admiral butterfly, and yuki-mushi (or snow bugs).

As the three ‘safe’ queens stepped backstage, the microphones caught their whispers:

“What the actual fuck?” Detox whispered. “How aren’t you in the top?”

“I guess it wasn’t that impressive,” Sharon said slowly, sadly.

* * *

The crowd had booed when Sharon had been left out of the top. Well, incredibly, when her name had first been called, they had cheered because they had been sure this was the tops and bottoms. The excitement had been short-lived. Although, it did make Sharon feel good because she really had expected to win this one—or at least be the top two. Instead, she’d ended up with a much different fate.

“I smell riggory,” Alaska drawled.

Sharon mimed zipping her lips.

“Honestly, I think Detox could have been up there, too,” IT Girl said. “Her silhouettes were gorgeous. The Victorian collar for her autumn and the bodice on her winter? Bitch.”

“I’m trying to be cool about this,” Alaska said with a laugh. The audience laughed with her. “But I’m so fucking confused right now that I can’t take it.”

“Just wait,” Sharon murmured.

The audience screamed.

* * *

When summoned, the queens all returned to the stage. They were in various stages of agita and confusion, but the ‘safe’ queens stood in the back and the highs and lows stood up front as always without a word. As expected with the given tops, Violet Chachki won for her seasonal bugs which all were very impressive and high-fashion, everyone had to admit it—and Sharon clapped enthusiastically for her. If it had to be anyone other her, at least it had been Violet. If it had been anyone else up there, she would have rioted.

“We need to mix things up a bit here,” Michelle said. “This week, if you weren’t in the top, you’re up for elimination. That means that Violet Chachki, our winner, is safe. Adore, IT Girl, and Daya Betty are also safe.”

A beat.

“And that means Jinkx Monsoon, Peppermint, Faye Tality, Sharon Needles, and Detox—you are all up for elimination.”

* * *

The audience screamed and booed. They called out that it wasn’t fair. They echoed Alaska’s accusation of riggory. They kept asking why? Sharon could only shake her head and shrug from her seat on the side of the stage. They would have to wait and see.

Alaska reached for Sharon’s hand and held it in her lap. She knew what was going to happen, of course, but it was different watching it. It was different seeing Sharon’s shock and upset cross her eyes when she wasn’t asked to stay for highs and lows. It was different seeing her betrayal at being told she was going to lip sync.

* * *

In her confessional, Jinkx threw up her hands and said, “The one time I thought I was going to squeak by on a design challenge since I wasn’t in the bottom!”

“But you will not be lip syncing against each other,” Michelle continued. “Bring in… the mercenaries.”

“We’ll be shooting you on sight instead,” Sharon said.

In her confessional, Detox said, “Honestly, yeah, bring in the snipers because lip syncing in that look is devastating. It’s essentially a straight jacket!”

“Please welcome to the stage our mercenaries: Derrick Barry, Katya, Kandy Muse, Darienne Lake, and Monet X Change!” Michelle announced.

The safe girls in the back reacted the way everyone else wished they could: gasps, grabbing each other, and big eyes.

In her confessional, Faye said, “So… are these the people they didn’t choose for the season? Katya? Katya! Somebody has to go against her? Monet? Jesus, save me.”

Three Pit Crew members came into view pushing the big wheel with faces of all of the current queens up for elimination on it and a board with a sheet over it. They angled them just so and stood by for orders. Michelle nodded to them in thanks.

“How are we, mercenaries?” Michelle asked with a smirk. “You’re all looking like you’re out for blood.”

“I’m sure Katya just had some in the back already,” Sharon said.”Don’t worry.”

Katya flicked her tongue like a snake.

“Tonight, we will spin the wheel to select a queen,” Michelle explained, “and that queen will choose which mercenary she would like to battle. The mercenary will choose the song from our list—for the first time ever on any season of RuPaul’s Drag Race! A list… of Ru Girl songs.”

One Pit Crew member pulled the sheet off the board to reveal the five songs:

1. Alaska Thunderfuck’s “The T”
2. Trixie Mattel’s “New Thing”
3. Honey Davenport’s “Mighty Legendary [feat. Alaska Thunderfuck]“
4. Adore Delano’s “I Look Fucking Cool [feat. Alaska Thunderfuck]”
5. Bob the Drag Queen’s “Purse First”

In her confessional, Adore said, “Wait, how sick would it have been if I was up there and I got to do my own song? Legend behavior.”

“Can we acknowledge the icon status of Miss Thunderfuck,” Katya said. She laughed. “She’s on three of the five tracks.”

The camera cut to Sharon who just smiled as she looked over the board.

In her confessional, Sharon said, “I mean, if you’re going to do Ru Girl songs and you don’t have a million songs with Alaska involved in some way, are you really doing anything at all? She’s in everything—as she should be.”

“Are we ready?” Michelle asked. She nodded to the Pit Crew. “Let’s see who our first queen is.”

The wheel spun round and round and came to a slow stop… on Sharon Needles. She smiled and spun on her heel to look at the mercenaries. The other queens went to the back of the stage.

“Sharon, you get first pick from all the mercenaries,” Michelle said. “Who do you choose?”

“Kandy Muse,” Sharon said without hesitation.

Michelle laughed. “Oh, you didn’t even have to think about it.”

“We have some unfinished business,” Sharon said as sweetly as she could manage, “that I’d like to put to rest.”

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Kandy said with a shrug. “I don’t even think about her, but I look forward to crushing her now.”

The camera panned over the girls in the back, over Detox and Jinkx exchanging a look and then Violet and Adore doing the same. There was clearly something they all knew that wasn’t public knowledge.

In her confessional, Sharon said, “Sorry, I’m supposed to be afraid of Kandy Muse? The only way I’d be scared of her is if she fell on me.”

“Kandy, you get first choice of the songs,” Michelle said. “What’s it gonna be?”

Sharon closed her eyes. She was mentally preparing herself for the Trixie song. She knew it because it was one of the songs she’d been told to prepare, but she hadn’t worked that hard on it; she really had thought she’d be in the top. Kandy scanned the list and hummed. She nodded slowly and smiled.

“‘The T,’” Kandy said.

Sharon’s eyes shot open and a big smile spread across her face, but the camera quickly cut to Daya Betty in the background. She threw her hands up and let them fall back at her sides with a smack. She looked around the rest of the safe girls. Violet’s jaw might as well have fallen off her face onto the ground.

In her confessional, Daya said, “Why would you just give it to her? Why would you choose her fucking boyfriend’s song? Make her do Trixie or Bob. Christ!”

“That’s an interesting choice,” Michelle said. “I can’t say I saw that one coming. Kandy, why an Alaska song to go against Sharon?”

“It’s not an easy song,” Kandy said with a smirk, “for many reasons, I’d imagine for Sharon.”

Sharon was clearly trying to stop smiling, but she couldn’t. She ended up looking up at the ceiling to try to compose herself while Kandy spoke. She managed and looked back at Michelle which only made her smile again.

“Sharon, you’re going through it,” Michelle said, amused. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that this will be the easiest lip sync I’ve ever won,” Sharon said confidently. She shrugged a shoulder. “My girlfriend’s song? Against marble-mouth over there? Okay.”

In her confessional, Detox screamed, “Marble mouth? Ahhhhhh!”

* * *

“You didn’t tell me it was my song!” Alaska said with clear, honest shock.

Her heart was in her throat. ‘The T’ was a special song. She didn’t even perform it anymore! But she loved it and she cherished it for what it did at its time: cleared the air, made amends, owned up to her mistakes. When she had given the all-clear to management to allow her songs to be used on the season, she hadn’t pictured that song nor in this way.

Sharon beamed at her. “You needed surprises while we watched! The whole show is spoiled for you!”

The crowd screamed.

“What about all those songs of yours?” IT Girl asked.

“Lil Poundcake, my music,” Alaska said, listing on her fingers. “What would Drag Race like from me next?”

“All-Winners 2 if there’s anything good this world,” Sharon said. “You do love to win a second installment.”

Alaska chuckled. “I do, I do.”

“Please, please, please,” IT Girl said. “I need Alaska on my screen again.”

* * *

In voiceover, as the camera focused on her, Kandy said, “I’m ready to send that dead bitch packing. How sad to go out on Alaska’s song, too. I guess it could only be worse if it were Alannis Morissette though.”

In her confessional, Sharon was giddy: “I’m not going home. Plain and simple.” She hummed. “Aw, just like Kandy.”

Before the song started, Sharon flipped her white hair over. She’d had it in a half-up-half-down with loose curls, but now she gathered the top half and raked her fingers through it to muss it up. Sparkles and plastic ice fell out of it onto the floor. She pulled it into a messy, frizzy bun and shook her head around to further ‘fix’ her hair.

“I’m a method actor,” Sharon said sweetly. “What a good day to be wearing paper! Trash!”

Kandy watched her from across the stage with just a touch of concern in her fading smile.

“Well, the time has come,” Michelle said, “to lip sync for your life.”

The song began with the iconic tea kettle whistle from the music video, and then they were off to the races.

“My name is Alaska Thunderfuck, and I have something to say!”

Kandy had been counting on the speed of the lyrics—and eventually the content—to trip Sharon up since she really wasn’t known as a lip syncer, but she wasn’t floundering. Sharon slid her weight to the side and looked across her shoulder at Kandy, mimicking Alaska’s posture.

“Let’s pay women an equal wage. No, seriously. What the fuck?”

Sharon curled her lip in the signature Alaska way and strutted to the middle of the stage during the brief interlude. She planted herself  right in front of the main aisle of the runway and didn’t move even when she saw Kandy coming her way. She wanted center for this next verse. She deserved it.

“Now let's talk about my exes.”

Sharon ran her hands seductively over her chest towards her shoulders. Her fingers were hyper-extended. She was so glad she’d put on those long, pointy nails today. Very Alaska.

“I cheated on Sharon with a guy in Texas. I’m just kidding he was really in Florida—but what the fuck fucking rhymes with Florida?”

She framed her face with her own signature, ‘spooky’ hands at her name. She threw up her hands at the states and winked. Every facial expression was big, theatrical, campy.

“We were good together, but we're better apart; and I learned a lot from that broken heart.”

Sharon shrugged and rolled her eyes at ‘we’re better apart’ which got laughs. She held her hands out like weighing scales and then waved it off.

“Sharon and Chad, I'm happy for you.”

This time, she widened her eyes comically and gulped. She used one hand to mime slicing her own neck. Again, a laugh line. With every laugh, Sharon only grew more confident.

“Cerrone the Cat, I fucking miss you, boo.”

Sharon kissed her fingers and pointed up to the sky.

“Not every breakup turned out so well. I put a lot of really nice guys through some fucked up hell.”

Sharon finally strutted off to the side. She let her hand hang limply as she pointed towards the judges.

“But then there was this one guy. Girl. And if you have Reddit, you probably know all about this already, uh.”

In her confessional, Violet said, “I don’t know why Kandy thought Sharon would be afraid of this song. Because of the relationship talk? Hello? You’ve never met two people more willing to talk about their failures in their past relationship together. It’s actually insane.” She laughed. “Kandy, girl, what were you thinking? You should have made her be Trixie! That would have been legitimately difficult!”

“I've had it, offic-i-ally! The bitch tried to really, really come for me! He crossed me like the River Styx. But the sex was good 'cause I like small dicks.”

Sharon stuck her tongue out and held up an inch with her fingers before laughing with the track. She crossed back to her side of the stage and looked at her nails.

“I'm not mad, I'm not pressed. The money's on the dresser. Get dressed.”

Sharon pointed at Kandy and waved her off as if she were the prostitute collecting money.

In her confessional, Adore said, “Why would Sharon be bad at Alaska’s song? Seriously. Critical thinking skills, Kandy.”

Kandy wasn’t doing a bad job. She had the attitude, the energy, but she wasn’t Alaska. She wasn’t serving that swagger, that ease that Alaska had. Sharon embodied Alaska: every lip curl, shoulder shimmy, and dramatic hand movement. Where Sharon injected the emotion, Kandy relied on the tropes of the genre.

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me about that thing, the secret I've been hiding like a ding-a-ling. I did some challenges, I won a few. Oh, yeah, that's a thing called All Stars 2”

Sharon mimed putting a crown on her head for the‘All Stars 2’ line and then sauntered back to ‘sing’ the Adore part to Adore herself.

“I can’t blame you, Adore. They went really harsh that first day, and if it had been me in your position, who knows? I might’ve done the same thing,”

Sharon then looked forward at the judges, into the camera, and shook her head slightly while mouthing ‘No’ to suggest Alaska would not have quit. This earned a few snorts and covered-mouths giggles.

At the end of the song, Sharon was breathless, but she held her head high and looked down her nose at the judges. There was no denying that posture was a dare: Send me home after that. Do it. Try it.

Michelle looked between the two of them and nodded. There was no need to drag this one out; it would be more powerful not to.

“Sharon Needles,” Michelle said, “Shantay, you stay.”

Kandy crossed the stage to congratulate Sharon. Sharon allowed Kandy to hug her—and it really was that one-sides because she did not put her arms around Kandy—but as Kandy was stepping back, Sharon gripped her arm and said, “You oughta know.”

For a moment, neither Kandy nor Sharon moved. Then Sharon smiled broadly and turned towards Michelle. She bowed to her and the other judges and sauntered to the back of the stage.

* * *

“I have a really serious question,” Alaska said. She paused. “Can we honestly just say this  was rigged? Like this is why you were safe and not in the top. They wanted you to lip sync. Because I still don’t understand how your ball looks were safe!”

Sharon shrugged and shook her head.

“I know you can’t speak on it, really,” Alaska said, “but I’m looking at you in that paper gown and I’m just like ‘What the fuck?’ It’s fabulous.”

“Maybe they wanted to be able to send me home if they had to,” Sharon said. “Maybe they anticipated that I’d choose Kandy.”

Alaska swallowed and nodded. “Well… She oughta know.”

Sharon smiled slightly at Alaska and nodded. It was her turn to pull their hands over into her lap. She knew Alaska was reliving those feelings from the tour’s roast, too. There was no need rehash that again.

* * *

“Will the four remaining queens please step to the front of the stage?” Michelle asked.

One by one, the queens chose their mercenary partner and watched as songs came off the board.

Detox and Derrick performed ‘Mighty Legendary’ which was a battle of the sexy party girl, but Detox’s humor gave her an edge.

Monet and Peppermint tackled ‘Purse First’ and that brought a lot of joy as they embodied Bob in their different ways.

Then Jinkx and Darienne worked ‘I Look Fucking Cool’ which was frankly unfortunate for Darienne because Jinkx could turn a grittier number.

In all three cases, the queen bested the mercenary. But that left Faye Tality with Katya as her mercenary and ‘New Thing’ as their song.

In her confessional, Daya said, “It’s fitting since Faye’s a stunt queen. Katya’s no joke. Sure, she’s not won a lot of lip syncs, but she always turns it, and she lost to, to, to Alaska, Detox, Kennedy. It’s not like she was losing to basic queens.”

In the end, it was clear Faye was going home. She even knew it as she got back to her feet. She sniffled and then the tears started flowing openly. She turned away from the judges to face the queens to try to compose herself. However, instead, she ended up sobbing. Most of the queens averted their eyes.

Violet grabbed Sharon’s hand and squeezed hard. She leaned over to murmur something to Sharon, who had to hang her head to hide her smile. Then she rolled her head to the side to give Violet a wry look. She swung Violet’s hand between them absently.

“Faye Tality,” Michelle said. “I’m sorry, but it is not your night. Sashay away.”

* * *

As Sharon performed with IT Girl for the group after the episode viewing and commentary, Alaska watched from the wings. She was still thinking about it all: the lip sync, the placement, Kandy, all the Alannis Morisette. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even realize someone had come up beside her until she felt a hand.

She especially didn’t expect to turn to see Michell Visage standing there.

“Oh my God!” Alaska said. She wrapped her in a hug. “I thought you were in London!”

“I landed tonight. I have an engagement tomorrow,” she said. “But I knew there was a viewing party and was trying to get here in time to listen in.”

“Probably better you didn’t,” Alaska admitted. “There’s some upset.”

Smartly, Michelle only nodded. They were quiet for a moment as they watched IT Girl and Sharon.

“Are you performing tonight?” Michelle asked.

“No, no, not tonight,” she said. “I performed last night with a cool queen here, Izzy Uncut.”

“Nice of you to bring in local queens,” Michelle said.

“No other way around,” Alaska said. “She invited me.”

Again, Michelle nodded. Alaska sighed.

“What? What is it?” Alaska asked.

  “Do you want me to speak my mind with you?” Michelle asked.

“Always.”

“Are you doing it again?”

Alaska paused. She cocked her head to the side and spun on her heel to look Michelle straight on. She shook her head and raised her eyebrows, prompting her to explain.

“From the outside, it looks like you’re falling back on old habits,” Michelle said. “You’re back with Sharon—which is none of my business—but you’re fading again. She’s on the pedestal and you’re holding her robes. When’s the last time you performed as the main event? Alone. Not with her. Not with another queen.”

Alaska opened her mouth to speak, but Michelle continued.

“It’s good to support your boyfriend, but are you about to rejoin the ‘Sharon Show’ as a supporting player,” Michelle asked. “Is that what she expects of you?”

“No,” Alaska said.

“It’s not? She doesn’t expect you to follow her around to all of these and be at her side?” Michelle asked. “Because, Alaska, frankly, I’d be shocked if she didn’t, if she was okay with you staying home or going to do your own thing while she did this.”

Alaska looked back out on stage at Sharon. She was on all fours crawling forward on the stage as she sang. She was electric tonight. She had enjoyed watching her—until now. Now she had to look away, back at Michelle. If she had told Sharon she was staying home, she was sure it would have led to an argument. And what if her show with Izzy had been the night after the viewing party during Sharon’s show. Would she have been so supportive?

Was Alaska really falling back into old habits?

At the beginning of her relationship with Sharon the first time, Alaska had found her way with drag, found her place and her groove. Los Angeles and San Francisco had been fun, but Pittsburgh, the Blue Moon, their little foursome of crazy, kooky drag? That’s what had taught her who Alaska Thunderfuck was. By the end, however, as her and Sharon’s relationship eroded, she’d been out at sea. She hadn’t known herself. She hadn’t recognized herself. That had been terrifying, agonizing.

Alaska couldn’t go back to that.

“Excuse me,” Alaska said to Michelle.

She slipped out the back door to the alley with her phone to call Jeremy. She needed to see if they were available—and if they were, she was about to call in a lot of favors.

Chapter Text

Sharon exited the stage breathless and beaming. Performing with IT Girl gave her the same adrenaline rush that performing with Jinkx did. Jinkx and IT Girl hardly had the same gig, but they had the same energy, the same ease, the same powerful command of a stage. When Sharon performed with Jinkx, it was pure fun—and that was the same with IT Girl. She turned back around right before she reached the curtain and blew IT Girl a kiss. When IT Girl mimed catching it and swooning, Sharon cackled.

Stepping off the stage, Sharon was expecting Alaska, but instead, she found Michelle Visage waiting for her in the wings. She gasped and hugged her tightly. Behind her IT Girl started her solo number, so Sharon pressed them further back to get away from all the noise.

“What are you doing here?” Sharon asked.

Michelle reached up to pat Sharon’s cheek. “I’m in town, so I had to come see my girls.”

“Did you see Alaska yet?” Sharon asked. She looked behind Michelle to see if she could spot her. “She’s here somewhere.”

“I did,” Michelle said, “but now I’m seeing you.”

She touched the hinge of Sharon’s jaw. It was so soft, so warm, that Sharon was overtaken for a moment by it. Her own mother was not nearly this affectionate with her, and yet, Michelle always had been. She’d said in many interviews that she mothered some of the queens, but Sharon imagined most would be shocked to know she was one of them. It hardly mattered that Michelle wasn’t that much older than Sharon; the differences in their upbringings, paths, and lives had made it easy enough for Michelle to fall into that role with Sharon just like she did with the little, early-twenties queens.

“Look at that paint. Nobody’d know you had to relearn it all,” Michelle said.

“Well, not all of it,” Sharon said. “Don’t give me too much credit.”

“Modesty? Who is she?” Michelle laughed. “You were good out there. You sounded good. Is that a new number you’re working on?”

“IT Girl wanted it, actually, and so I went with her on it,” Sharon said, “but I wouldn’t mind doing shows with her. She’s got good energy on stage.”

Michelle carefully moved strands of Sharon’s hair from her lashes. “So do you. It’s good to see you like this again. Did you drink before going out there?”

“Yes,” Sharon said. There was no use in lying. “We had some drinks with the episode.”

Sharon was right that Alaska was around there somewhere; in fact, Alaska was several feet back, in the shadows, watching now that she’d made her calls. She watched Michelle touch Sharon with such care. It was motherly, and Alaska wasn’t sure how she felt about it. On one hand, she liked seeing how Sharon lit up under Michelle’s praise and touch. It was wholesome. But it was hard to square with what Michelle had just told her. Why did Sharon receive this sweet mothering while Alaska received the tough love? What did that say about them? What did it say about what Alaska should do about her working dynamic with Sharon?

And how could Michelle mother Sharon like this after what she’d just said about her to Alaska? That was particularly hard to swallow.

“Oh, there she is,” Sharon said as Alaska walked towards them. “Michelle’s here!”

“I know,” Alaska said curtly. “I saw her. I wanted to talk to you.”

Sharon’s smile faltered and she looked from Michelle to Alaska before pointing to the ground. Now? Alaska nodded. Now.

“Excuse us,” Sharon said to Michelle airily, like she was at ease, in control—but it was all a front, an obvious one to both Michelle and Alaska alike. “I’ll be back. I want to ask you about your oldest’s art. I saw something online.”

Alaska led the way deeper backstage where it was much quieter. She could still see the light from the stage and Michelle in the wings, still hear the dull roar of the music and crowd, but they could talk more easily at least. Sharon was walking slowly, uncharacteristically so, and when she stopped in front of Alaska, it was with enough space to make Alaska nervous even though she was the one planning on doing the talking.

“I’m doing a show,” Alaska said.

Sharon let out a long, whooshing breath and laughed. Why was Alaska being so secretive about a show with Michelle? Unless it was going to be wholly anti-Drag Race (unlikely), there was no need to be so sneaky.

“That’s great!” Sharon said. “What’s the plan?”

“It’s tomorrow in Philadelphia. Jeremy’s in Pittsburgh and is going to meet me and we’re going to do a cabaret,” Alaska said. “There might be another one in Baltimore.”

Sharon frowned. She had shows the next two nights: one in New York, one in Boston. She had thought they’d go together like they had the others. Apparently not. Not only did it mean Alaska wouldn’t be there for her, but it also meant that Sharon wouldn’t be there for Alaska.

“I have Brooklyn tomorrow,” Sharon said, “and—”

“That’s fine,” Alaska interrupted. “You don’t need me at every show. I’m not your assistant, Sharon.”

Sharon recoiled as if Alaska had smacked her.

“Actually maybe you should consider hiring one now that the bookings are coming in consistently again,” Alaska continued. Never had such a statement sounded so insulting, but Alaska’s tone managed it; Sharon’s cheeks burned. “I can’t just, just follow you around and be at your beck and call.”

Sharon opened her mouth but nothing came out. For a moment, she was truly speechless. This had come out of nowhere! What had she done to deserve this one? She couldn’t remember anything particularly egregious that day. No, she hadn’t done anything this trip! They’d been enjoying themselves! Sharon blinked a few times and took a half-step back, but then the cold shock turned into heated rage. She stepped forward until she was nearly chest to chest with Alaska.

“Where did this come from?” Sharon hissed. “You were fine just before this show.”

“That’s not important,” Alaska said. “What’s important is that I’m not letting my career stagnate again. I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to give up opportunities to—”

“Oh, yes, all your opportunities,” Sharon said with faux excitement. “You can just call up a place and get in next-day. That’s what you did, right? You haven’t been hiding it from me, have you? Secreting away a show to spring on me last minute?”

“I did make a call,” Alaska said. “I just made a call, and I got space, time, and Jeremy. I put on great shows, Sharon.”

“What are you even talking about? Who’s said you don’t put on great shows? I never said that. Am I in the Twilight Zone?” Sharon asked. She laughed bitterly. “Am I? Because this is…”

As she turned to look around for the candid camera or the tell, she saw Michelle again. Everything clicked into place. For a moment, her vision went blurry and she heard high-pitched droning in her ears. If her life were a movie, as she often imagined it was, this would be the moment where the camera artfully fell to the side and onto the floor to show only their feet.

Michelle Visage. Of course. That’s who put the idea that they were dangerously codependent (and Alaska was the one losing) in Alaska’s head the first time—correctly so, Sharon could admit now. Michelle must have done it again. She whipped her head back around to stare at Alaska.

“You’re going to let her—”

“It’s not about her, Sharon. It’s about reality. I’m not going to follow you around and carry your bags and, and—”

“Is that what’s happening? Is that what you think is happening?” Sharon shouted. “Also, what is the obsession with carrying my bags? You never carry them!”

The clip of Alaska drunkenly complaining about Chad on stage before she performed the Alanis Morissette song jumped to mind: But I’m fine. I am. It’s fine that Sharon’s moved on. It’s fine. I’m sure that bitchboy is perfectly fine… Someone told me he carries her bags and gets her in her costumes. Is that a boyfriend or an assistant? That wasn’t this. Beyond the fact that that hadn’t been a fair description of Chad, it was even less fair to think of Sharon and Alaska’s current relationship that way.

Sharon shook her head. She sighed before saying, “Lask, we have a good thing here! Aren’t we doing good? I thought we were doing good.”

“And that’s why I’m going to go have solo shows,” Alaska said. “Because it’s good because we’re both our own people. You can’t make me follow you again. I’m not that guy. I’m not scared of being alone anymore. This isn’t ‘The Sharon Show.’”

“Oh my God,” Sharon said. She threw her hands up and let one land on her chest, over her heart. Even through the padding, she felt it thumping. “I wasn’t even going to say that. I wasn’t! Alaska, I was going to say that—”

“We’re not having this conversation, Aaron,” Alaska said. “You’re not talking me out of it.”

“I’m not trying to!” Sharon yelled. “I am trying to, to, to…” She shook her head and groaned. “I was going to say that—” Alaska’s cocked brow and hard eyes gutted Sharon. “You know what? Never mind. Go to fucking Philadelphia and enjoy singing with Jeremy.”

“I will,” Alaska said.

“But tonight—”

“I’m leaving tonight,” Alaska interjected. “I got a train ticket already.”

Betrayal was painted across Sharon’s face: in her glossy eyes and hanging mouth. She went to speak, but then IT Girl came jogging over with a big smile. She leaned against Sharon’s back and hooked her chin over her shoulder.

“You have to come back out,” she said excitedly. “You won’t believe this idea the crowd just pitched.”

“Give me one minute, sweetheart,” Sharon said a bit too sharply. She winced and tilted her head to the side to touch her temple to IT Girl’s in silent apology. “I just need to finish this here with Alaska.”

“No, we’re good,” Alaska said. “Go perform with IT.”

IT Girl’s eyes widened and she took a step back. Clearly she had walked in on something here. She took a few more steps back and then turned completely to go back to the stage. Michelle caught her arm to hug her and chat, however.

Alaska watched her for a moment before meeting Sharon’s eyes. Sharon looked like she might cry, and that made Alaska’s stomach turn. That wasn’t her intent, but wasn’t this all the more proof? Sharon didn’t want her to go do a show when she had one, so she had to do go do it. She had to.

“I’ll see you at home,” Alaska said.

Sharon said nothing.

Alaska hesitated for only a moment—and Sharon was sure this was when Alaska would tell her they were okay, that it was okay, that they would talk more later. But no, Alaska turned and slipped out the backdoor without a word, kiss, or even wave. Sharon swallowed the thickness that had crawled up into her throat. They were not okay. Over a show? Over a conflicting calendar? Somebody had scrambled her brain because she was missing too many pieces here. How had this happened? Well, no, she wasn’t missing that piece; she knew how this had happened. Sharon’s lip twitched as she scowled as she turned to look at Michelle.

“Why are you intent on ruining my life?” Sharon asked as she approached her.

“Excuse me?” Michelle’s eyes widened. “Who are you talking to?”

“What did you say to get her that upset?” Sharon said. “Why is she talking about ‘The Sharon Show’ and running away from me?”

“Maybe you should ask yourself that,” Michelle said. She sighed. “Sharon, you crushed her once. Are you going to do it again?”

It was a punch to the gut. It was leveling. Michelle had come through with a construction crew and cut her off at the foundation. She was all crumbling bricks and clouds of dust. The idea that she was crushing Alaska again? That was unbearable. She was trying so hard this time to be a normal partner. When that dark, insidious part of her crept up from the depths, Sharon didn’t let it win anymore—or at least not often.

“You have been here for two seconds and you’ve decided that’s what I’m doing?” Sharon said as calmly as she could manage. “How could you even decide that from what you’ve seen of us? You’re trying to sabotage me.”

Michelle sighed. “It’s not about you. It’s about Alaska. You always land on your feet; she lands in the bottle.”

Sharon sneered and shook her head. It was bad enough that fans and haters alike couldn’t see beyond their actions when they were in their twenties and early thirties. The internet creepers were allowed, in some ways, to forget they were people who had grown and matured and lived since then. To them, they were characters on the screen who only existed on episodes, social media posts, and forum discussions. But to have someone who knew them both fairly well do it, too?

“She’s not been drinking lately, actually,” Sharon said. “So let’s see what pops up online later. You tell me who dropped her in a bottle then.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you, Sharon,” Michelle said seriously.

“You’re doing a magnificent job anyway,” Sharon retorted.

She pointed at the stage and then walked out to join IT Girl finally. The crowd cheered and she plastered on a big smile. At least faking it was easier now than it had been the first time around; she was genuinely thrilled to perform so often and at such a scale again, so it was easier to hide under all the paint and show.

Sharon wrapped her arm around IT Girl’s waist and said, “So what’s this great idea, sweetheart?”

* * *

Alaska slept for shit. Every time she thought she was closer to falling off into deep sleep, a sharp pain in her chest would strike or a dark thought would work its way to the surface. She could fix this easily which was the worst part. If she called Sharon and they talked, more likely than not, she’d feel better. But would she feel better because she’d give in to Sharon? She couldn’t do that. No, she wouldn’t call her first. She’d wait until they were both home—or until Sharon called her.

Alaska crawled through her morning routine and dragged herself out of the hotel room to the fitness center to try to manufacture some energy from endorphins. Every time her phone buzzed, she was sure it was going to be Sharon texting her, but it never was. Jeremy, Willam, Michelle Visage, Lola, her mom—but never Sharon. Other than Jeremy, nobody else received an answer yet.

The good news was working out was an easy task to give herself away to. Alaska pushed her anxiety down with bicep curls and lat pulldowns. She ate up time with chest presses and crunches. She strained through push-ups and planks. At the very least, she could sweat her way to some better mental health temporarily.

After a while, the fitness center door opened, and Alaska looked up from her run to see Jeremy coming her way. They gave a little wave and then came to stand in front of Alaska’s treadmill. He leaned his arms the panel and looked up at Alaska with a look that was far too kind after what she had just put him through in getting here. If there had ever been a doubt in how deep their love and friendship went, this would eradicate it because Jeremy had dropped it all to get to Philadelphia for her. Although, there had never been a doubt for Alaska; Jeremy had stood by her when she had treated him atrociously. Unconditional love, thy name is Jeremy.

“Are you trying to outrun your problems?” Jeremy asked. “Because going from New York to Philly for a gig and then to Baltimore for another gig… and now literally using a treadmill? That’s poetic.”

“My problem can’t run very well,” Alaska said. She lowered the speed on her treadmill to walk while she talked with Jeremy. “She smoked too many cigarettes.”

Jeremy frowned. They knew there was going to be something big with Sharon soon enough, but they hadn’t anticipated it being right now. Alaska and Sharon had been, from what Jeremy could see from the outside and heard from Alaska’s stories, doing really, really well. Their fights were mostly normal since tour ended. Alaska’s calls weren’t her in tears. More often than not, she had positive reports.

“Okay, so I’m sure there’s a story,” Jeremy said, “and I welcome it because I’m confused.”

Alaska launched into the details of their days in New York: the show with Izzy, the viewing party, the talk with Michelle, the argument with Sharon, her leaving.

“Okay, so you know I love you,” Jeremy said.

“Bad start,” Alaska said. She hit the big red STOP button on the treadmill. “But…?”

“But I don’t know why you did this,” Jeremy said. “I’m all about this show. We’re going to be amazing, and yeah, we can figure out the mini-tour for Valentine’s Day while we’re together here, too.” He paused. “But I don’t know why you had to do it like this. Why you sprung it on Sharon, why you ran away from New York.”

“I can’t go back,” Alaska said. “I can’t go back to being her boyfriend and assistant and everything. I swear she and Chad worked for so long because he was content in that world.”

“Are you breaking up with her?” Jeremy asked.

Alaska gaped at him. “No! Why would you ask that?”

“Because you seem to think this is part of her core,” Jeremy said. “Here, get off the treadmill.”

Alaska walked around the treadmill to the water fountain. She took a few big gulps and heaved a breathy sigh.

“If you think this is who she is and that she won’t change and she wants a boyfriend who will be her full-time career support system,” Jeremy said, “then why are you staying with her?”

“I… I don’t think it’s at her core.” Alaska sighed.

They walked out of the gym and back up to their hotel room in silence. This was not a hallway conversation. Once behind their closed door, Alaska groaned and pulled off her shorts and T-shirt to take a shower. She left the door open to let her voice and the steam billow out.

“I don’t think it’s at her core,” she said again. “I think it’s what she does innately, but I don’t think she has to.”

“Then why did you leave in a plume of black smoke in the night rather than, I don’t know, do any sort of communication?” Jeremy asked.

Alaska paused, soapy hands in her hair, and let her head fall forward. Was that what she did? She replayed the conversation again as if the details might change this time around.

“What did she say when you told her you were doing this show?” Jeremy asked.

“That she has a show at the same time,” Alaska said. She rinsed her hair and turned off the water. “And that’s so frustrating!”

Alaska came out to the bedroom wrapped in a towel to get dressed. While she dressed, Jeremy sat in the chair by the window, staring outside absently. They kept tapping their thigh rhythmically; Alaska knew he was working on a song even as he worked on Alaska’s head. She got dressed and came to sit in the armchair beside his.

“You disagree with me,” Alaska said.

“I can’t disagree with your feelings,” Jeremy said. “That’s not how feelings work.”

“But you don’t… I don’t know how to put it then.” Alaska chuckled and rolled her eyes. “You don’t agree with how I handled things.”

“No, I don’t,” Jeremy said. “That’s true. I… I think that was a bad way to do things because—Well, look, if you’re not breaking up, if you don’t think this is a core part of her and what she expects from a partner, I don’t understand why you’d get short with her and run away without having the whole talk. That is the old Alaska I remember from those days.”

Alaska looked down at her lap to pull at a loose thread on her sweatpants. If Michelle’s comments about the ‘old Alaska’ had filled her with nervous, frenetic energy, these ones from Jeremy stabbed her through the heart. If she really looked at it, and she was really honest, Jeremy was more correct than Michelle here.

“So Sharon said she has a show,” Jeremy prompted gently, “and she said you couldn’t do this one?”

Alaska opened her mouth and then closed it. She sat back in the armchair as uncertainty washed over her. What had Sharon said about the show? She couldn’t remember. She could only remember her saying she had the Brooklyn show, nothing about Alaska’s show. Alaska wasn’t drinking; she hadn’t been wasted during the spat. Yet Sharon’s commentary on their conflicting shows was gone—or had she never really said anything to begin with?

“I have no idea what she said,” Alaska admitted.

Jeremy huffed a laugh. “You usually can quote her. You usually have it down the adjectival phrase she used to cut you open.”

“She hasn’t done that in a while,” Alaska said defensively.

“No, she hasn’t,” Jeremy said. He could acknowledge that. “So then what did she say last night? Did she say anything?”

“She asked if she was in the Twilight Zone,” Alaska said slowly, “and she made a remark about how I can just get a booking in a snap, but I don’t… I don’t remember anything about…”

Jeremy said nothing and Alaska scrubbed her hand over her face before letting out a loud, long groan. Fuck. Fuck! Had Sharon really not said anything against Alaska’s taking the gig?

“So you had a one-sided fight?” Jeremy asked gently.

“I… I think I had a fight in my head,” Alaska said after a moment’s pause. Her cheeks burned. “And that’s not really fair, is it?”

She groaned again and flung her head back against the armchair. Jeremy didn’t answer that. What was there to say? No, it’s not fair that you yelled at your boyfriend over a make-believe scenario and then wouldn’t discuss it. That wouldn’t be helpful. After all, at this point, neither of them were under the impression that this was anything other than insane behavior; there was no need to point it out further. Jeremy waited instead for when Alaska picked her head back up and sighed.

“Justin, call Sharon,” Jeremy said kindly but firmly.

As much as they didn’t really approve of this reconciliation, they couldn’t deny that it had been pretty good for Alaska—once they got back from the tour. The tour stories had had Jeremy more than a little sick to their stomach. The fur coat reference, the roast? Bad. But since then? Well, Jeremy had to admit it had been decent.

Alaska tapped Sharon’s contact and got up to pace around the room while it rang… and rang… and rang. Alaska’s heart dropped as Sharon’s recording told her to leave a message. Now that was rare. The only time Sharon missed a call from her was when she was painting, and it was too early to be getting ready for the show.The amount of times throughout the years that Alaska had talked to Sharon while she was pissing were astronomical.

“Uh, hi,” Alaska said. “I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we need to. Gimme a call back.”

She stared at her phone waiting for it to light up with Sharon’s call. She’d tell Alaska she missed the call because she was in the bathroom or talking to room service or distracted by IT Girl. But it didn’t light up. She didn’t call back.

“She’ll call,” Jeremy said. “She will.”

* * *

Uh, hi, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we need to. Gimme a call back. Uh, hi, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we need to. Gimme a call back. Uh, hi, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we need to. Gimme a call back. Uh, hi, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we need to. Gimme a call back. Uh, hi, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we need to. Gimme a call back. Uh, hi, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we—

Sharon listened to the voicemail over and over again. She eventually had to put her phone aside to go get ready, but then she came back to listen to it again.

Uh, hi, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we need to. Gimme a call back.

At this point, she could lip sync to it. Oh, now that was a thought. After they had the talk, the one that would break Sharon into pieces all over again, she could put it on stage and use it. She’d explain this was what she got as an opener before she lost Alaska. Again. Maybe she’d write a show for it, a long-form piece centered around it. That could be interesting.

Uh, hi, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we need to. Gimme a call back.

Alaska’s voice didn’t even sound right to Sharon’s ears anymore. It was like an AI Alaska was speaking to her: devoid of emotion, brief, relatively fast. Sharon listened to it one more time, just more bit of punishment— uh, hi, I wanted to talk to you about last night. I think we need to. Gimme a call back—and then she finally stopped. She had to get to Brooklyn for the show. She had painted at the hotel to give herself more alone time, but she was not dressing in drag until she got to the venue. After all, if there was one place that wouldn’t blink at her walking around with a full beat in her boy-clothes, it was New York City, baby.

* * *

“Nothing?” Jeremy asked.

“Nothing,” Alaska said. She sighed and put her phone down. “Can you zip me?”

She spun around to let Jeremy pull up the zipper on her red leopard dress. It wasn’t what she wanted to wear for this show, but she hadn’t brought anything cabaret-appropriate to New York. It would suffice. She’d make it work. She always did.

“Can we add a song?” Alaska asked. “Or make a switch?”

“Sure,” Jeremy said. They took out their notebook and flipped to the night’s list. “What are you thinking?”

“‘Landslide.’”

“Done.”

* * *

Sharon shimmied her shoulders as she sang her song ‘Fruit Fly.’ This was her current favorite on the album. She went through stages with her songs. They all got their turn in the sun and eventually all became loathsome. It was unfortunate for some of her hits because they were always requested. ‘This Club is a Haunted House’ was so fucking cursed at this point that Sharon didn’t think she’d be able to perform it again in seriousness.

“Thank you, Brooklyn!” Sharon said. She waved and bowed. “I do have one of your own here tonight with me to close out our show. She came into the green room and scared the shit out of me. I didn’t expect to see her tonight, but there she was! Walking in with a bottle of my own vodka.” She pointed at the crowd. “SERV Vodka in Blood Orange. It’s like RuPaul says: if you can’t trust a high-functioning alcoholic with your alcohol choices, who can you trust?”

Sharon laughed and walked to the other side of the stage.

“Anyway, I’m excited to bring out my drag daughter, the lovely, fascinating, and ever-evolving, Aquaria!” Sharon announced.

Aquaria walked out on stage in a long, black mullet and sparkling, dark makeup. She wore a jumpsuit printed with Hieronymus Bosch’s ‘The Harrowing of Hell’ that sheer enough to see her skin and dark lingerie beneath it. The thigh-high patent leather boots really brought it all together.. She beamed at the crowd before she went to join Sharon.

“Are you watching Heroes versus Villains, Brooklyn?” Aquaria asked with a big smile. When they cheered back at her, she stuck her tongue out. “Was she not robbed this week?”

The audience booed in agreement. Sharon smiled and looked up at the ceiling to try to keep herself quiet. When Aquaria came to stand beside her, she rolled her head to the side to look at her though.

“You’re too kind,” Sharon said.

“Kindness has nothing to do with it, mama,” Aquaria said. “Vivaldi? All that paper? The icicles you made? That should have been top at least.”

Sharon shrugged. “I’m happy for Violet.”

“Of course,” Aquaria said. “Bugs for seasons? Love that. I want that beetle look. I literally need it.” She gasped. “Can you call her for me?”

The audience laughed.

“I’ll see what I can do for you, sweetheart,” Sharon promised.

“She owes you for the crown,” Aquaria said. Sharon snorted as the crowd gasped and clapped. “No, guys, I’m right! Crown theft and breaking? She owes her.”

“She has repaid that debt a million times over by now,” Sharon said.

Aquaria shrugged. “It was worth a try.”

“Aquaria’s going to give you a treat since you’ve been so good for me,” Sharon said. “Now what are you planning, baby girl?”

“How do we feel about a Madonna remix?” Aquaria asked. When the crowd screamed she shrugged at Sharon and smiled. “I guess that’s what I’m planning.”

“I cannot wait to see it,” Sharon said. She bowed to the crowd once more and blew them kisses. “Thank you again, Brooklyn!”

Sharon exited the stage and headed back to the green room. In this moment, she was riding the high of performing and had forgotten all about her personal life's woes. Well, her romantic woes. Her personal life beyond romance had actually turned out pretty well that day. When Aquaria had come (and scared her to death in the green room), they’d been able to chat in a way they hadn’t on tour. It wasn’t perfect. They weren’t mended. But… but they were on the road. The GPS said they’d be arriving at their destination soon.

Romantic reality set back in, however, when Sharon got to the green room and saw texts from Alaska. They’d been coming in all afternoon, but Sharon couldn’t do it. She was floating in this liminal space: if she didn’t answer Alaska’s call or texts, Alaska couldn’t break up with her. Big thinking. She was a genius.

Alaska: Did you get my voicemail?

Alaska: Are you alive?

Alaska: You’re freaking me out.

Alaska: I just saw a clip from your show that a fan posted. So you’re not dead.

Alaska: You’re just ignoring me.

Alaska: Sharon, don’t. Call me.

Alaska: We need to talk about it.

But they didn’t. Sharon didn’t need to have this conversation. She didn’t need to listen to Alaska tell her how she wasn’t content to stand by Sharon’s side. What Sharon didn’t understand was how Alaska could have possibly taken from these last few weeks that Sharon didn’t want Alaska to have a career. She thought she had been very supportive of that gig with Izzy. She thought she talked her up plenty in interviews and the like. Alaska wasn’t touring, but Sharon had never said a word about that one way or another! It wasn’t her place to decide that for Alaska. This was real growth! Yet it didn’t seem to matter because Alaska had talked to her like she was still the same little thirty-three-year-old who was all me, me, me. Sharon had thought she’d been doing better at me, you, us.

Shit, maybe she should have gone to therapy like Alaska wanted her to.

Sharon packed up her bags and looked around the room. She hadn’t made any plans with Aquaria, but she could wait and see what she was doing next. That could be fun—or at the very least, distracting. Instead, she took her phone back out to make a call.

“Hey, Gorge,” Violet slurred on the other end. Music thumped in the background.

Sharon rolled her eyes even as she smiled. “Hi, Vi,” she said. “Where are you?”

“I am…” Violet trailed off. “I am definitely somewhere. Mik, where are me?”

“Where are me?” Gottmik’s voice sounded from beside her. She laughed. “You are on Planet Cut-Off, but we are at the Belasco.”

“That’s in L.A., right?”

“It is,” Violet said. “I love it here. We’re seeing a friend if he ever fucking gets on the stage.”

“You have some space in your house?” Sharon asked.

Violet gasped. “Oh my God. Do you want to come cuddle Eugene?”

“I would love to cuddle Eugene,” Sharon said with a chuckle.

“Well, we’d love to put you and Alaska up,” Violet said.

“Just me, Vi,” Sharon said.

“Oh, okay,” Violet said suspiciously. “Yeah, come. Mik, Sharon’s gonna come out.”

“Dope!” Gottmik said. She must have leaned into the phone because she sounded much clearer then. “Do you wanna come to karaoke night with us this week? Violet hates it, but like… it’s sick. We should do it.”

“I’m up for anything,” Sharon promised. “Okay, I have Boston tomorrow and then I need to stop at home, but I’m going to come out after that. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Violet said. She paused. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sharon said with a sigh.

“Text tomorrow,” Violet said. “Like, I’ll text you and then you’ll answer.”

“Yes, I gathered that,”  Sharon said, amused. “Have fun.”

As she walked out the back door of the venue, Sharon checked her Boston to Pittsburgh flight and then started looking into Pittsburgh to Los Angeles flights.

* * *

Alaska unlocked the door to the house and crept in as quietly as she could with all her bags. It was late, very late, but she hadn’t wanted to wait until the next day to fly back to Pittsburgh from Baltimore. She had wanted to be home where Sharon couldn’t hide from her. Now of course, that was wishful thinking. She’d been on this side of an ice-out countless times in their lives together, so she knew Sharon was remarkably good at ignoring somebody who was right in front of her.

“Hi, hi, oh, yeah, I missed you, too,” Alaska whispered as the cats swarmed her. “I’m shocked you’re down here.”

She crouched down to pet both Wax and Dorothy until they finally stopped circling her and meowing. She grabbed only her boy-clothes bag and headed upstairs to get herself ready for bed. She slipped into the bathroom to wash up. Every move was quiet: turning on the tap slowly, washing her face with little splashes, brushing her teeth with the electric toothbrush off. She didn’t want to wake Sharon across the hall. Even at her maddest, even when Sharon had been her absolute worst, she had been hard-pressed to reject Alaska’s touches.

One of the most surreal moments from the end of their relationship last time had come when Alaska confessed her cheating. It had been a Category 5 Hurricane Needles—but Sharon hadn’t let Alaska leave. She’d cried for her to stay, held her all night. This was nowhere near that bad—nothing could ever be that bad again certainly—so Alaska was banking on slipping into bed and wrapping Sharon up. That would be the perfect start to apologizing.

Alaska opened the door slowly to avoid creaking—it was an old house—and to avoid smacking one of the cats with it. She crept to the bedroom and sucked in her stomach (more out of habit than any real need) to slip in through the cracked door. She turned to the bed and—

Sharon wasn’t there.

Alaska’s heart might as well have stopped. For a moment, she didn’t feel anything at all. She was numb as she looked at their perfectly made bed in the dark. Their cats slipped past her and jumped onto the bed; now she knew why they had been downstairs to greet her. Then, in one big wave, Alaska could feel it all: embarrassment over how she’d been creeping around their house; distress over Sharon’s lack of communication; anger over Sharon’s childishness; and disappointment in her own role in this.

She turned on the light to find a note written in Sharon’s new, strange handwriting on the bed:

I went to LA and I’m staying with Violet.

I shouldn’t ignore your calls or texts, but I’m scared.

While the first line was dizzying, it was the second line that stopped her. That was more honesty than Alaska would have guessed at a time like this. She imagined getting to write it and walk away, knowing she wasn’t going to face a text or call from Alaska for a while, was whaat had made it possible for Sharon.

“She’s scared,” Alaska muttered to herself, “and so she’s running. Good fucking Lord.”

She scrubbed her hands over her face sighed, long and loud. On the bed, a startled cat mewed. She peeked through her fingers to see Wax starting at her with big eyes and alert ears.

“It’s okay,” Alaska whispered.

Was she talking to herself or the cat? Who could know?

She stroked Wax’s head and crawled into bed with him and Dorothy. Briefly, her body relaxed at the muscle memory of being home in one’s own bed. The comfort of her mattress and pillow was welcome. The smell of Sharon on the sheets, however, both soothed her and brought her back to reality.

Alaska pulled out her phone and called Sharon, but it went straight to voicemail. The question was simple: had she turned off her phone to avoid Alaska or was she still in the air on her way to Los Angeles? Alaska couldn’t know, but she could leave a voicemail.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Alaska said softly. Even though she was alone with the cats, in the still of the night and surrounded by Sharon’s fear and her own anxiety, she felt like she had to be quiet. “I love you. I’m not breaking up with you. I, I shouldn’t have done all that. I got scared and, and thought Michelle was seeing something I couldn’t. I did that all wrong. I’m sorry. Please call me when you get this; I don’t care what time it is. I love you. Did I say that already?”

Alaska ended the call and turned her ringer all the way up. There was no need for that, really, because the vibration alone always alerted her, but she had to be sure this time. If she missed Sharon’s call, it would be catastrophic. The spiraling that would happen on both ends would create a whole new weather system: Cyclone Shalaska.

Chapter Text

Episode 5 Synopsis : Motherhood is so hard! Just ask RuPaul! She’s Mother to hundreds now! But sometimes new moms need a bit of glam to get their groove back. This week, the queens need to get their new moms ready for a night on the town: to the sultry nightclub or to the golden gala.

* * *

Sharon stood on Violet’s patio watching the sun rise. It was just before seven in the morning, but she was still on East Coast time and fueled by emotional strife; there was no sleeping. She cradled Eugene, Violet’s hairless cat, and swayed absently. He purred and blinked up at Sharon lovingly; this cat loved a visitor and the attention that always came with them. Sharon looked down at the cat and smiled when he mewed at her over just eye contact.

“You are very sweet,” Sharon told him. “Nothing like your owner, no.”

Alaska would like Eugene. Sharon didn’t doubt that. She could imagine Alaska choosing one of the many sweaters Violet had for Eugene and posing with him while in drag. She could see her in a ritzy, a dress with a fishtail or a long train, with the cat in her arms. In fact, she was shocked that had never happened when Alaska lived here. Then again, of the two of them, it was Sharon who was close with Violet. Alaska had only met her through Sharon and then, of course, with Drag Race.

Sharon huffed a humorless laugh. Yet another example of a young queen she had influenced. She had first run with Violet when she was quite young, after all. Sharon sighed. This was why people said things about her; she did have a history with baby queens. Of course, never mind the fact that that those baby queens were never a romantic interest. They always left that part out of the discourse.

“I was only kidding,” Sharon said to Eugene. “Violet can be quite sweet. She’s, well, she’s a Sour Patch Kid: first they’re sour and then they’re sweet.”

Eugene simply purred and stared up at Sharon, thrilled by the love and soft, nice talking. This visitor was very attentive to him, and he was more than happy to let her dote on him.

* * *

It was many more hours before Violet finally woke up and dragged herself downstairs. She found Sharon on the sofa with her laptop and Eugene and waved before heading through to the kitchen to make herself some coffee. After a few minutes, she walked out with two mugs. She set them down on the coffee table and then crawled across the sofa until she could stretch over the cushions and Sharon’s lap like a cat herself. Luckily for Violet, Sharon lifted the laptop just in time to make space for her.

Maybe it was because she’d known Sharon for so long. Maybe it was because Sharon had been nothing but accepting of all her moodiness and eccentricities. Maybe it was because Sharon had never made Violet feel bad about her snobbishness paired with her deep desire for affection. Whatever it was, it made it so Violet didn’t worry that Sharon would mock her for this vulnerability. She could count on one hand how many people she trusted like this. Why was one Sharon Needles of all people? Well, the possibilities were above, but to actually pin it down? That was something to ask a future therapist.

“So what did you do to end up here alone?” Violet asked.

Sharon looked at Eugene, who had climbed off her lap to lay down on her other side, said, “Can you believe she took your spot?” She pet Violet’s hair like she would have the cat which made Violet laugh. “Believe it or not, I don’t actually know.”

“Do you not know or are you pretending you don’t know?” Violet asked.

“She said she’s not my assistant and she ran off to do those shows in Philly and Baltimore,” Sharon said with a sigh. She was trying hard to sound casual, but instead, she only sounded stiff. “She’s… Well, I think she’s worried I’m about to turn her into—”

“Into Chad,” Violet finished.

Sharon grimaced. “I’ve been learning a lot about how people viewed him recently.”

“Oh, come on,” Violet said dismissively. “You had to have known how people talked about him.”

“People liked him,” Sharon said. “He still runs with some of the Ru Girls when they pass through Massachusetts.”

While it hadn’t worked with Chad—and she had resented him for leaving her and she certainly did not have a relationship with him now—Sharon didn’t besmirch him this. He had made relationships with plenty of Sharon’s people and even others that didn’t care for Sharon. That had bought her some good will with some groups, actually, if only briefly.

“Oh, yeah, people liked him. They just also knew he did whatever you asked without hesitation,” Violet agreed. “‘If Sharon said jump, Chad would do it, do it again, and then ask her if those were good enough before trying it again.’”

Sharon hummed but said nothing on it. She had known people had made remarks about her bag-boy-oops-I-mean-boyfriend-oh-Sharon-isn’t-that-so-funny, but she hadn’t thought it was a whole thing that had everyone whispering. Clearly she had been wrong. Again, Alaska’s drunken performance came back to her and she sighed; she wouldn’t let herself burn up about that right now. Instead, she focused on wondering if Chad had heard them, if they had bothered him. If she and Chad had what she and Alaska had had as exes, she would have asked him, but they didn’t. Engaging with Chad never ended well—he’d be passive aggressive and she’d be aggressive; it was a choreography they knew well—and she wasn’t looking for another (ex-)romantic entanglement issue.

Violet reached up to pull a thread from Eugene’s sweater away from Sharon’s jaw; she hadn’t shaved, so it had woven into her sparse, blond beard. Violet rubbed the stubble and wrinkled her nose in displeasure which only made Sharon laugh at her.

“You’re full daywalker today: beard, no makeup, no eyebrows.”

“Contacts today, too,” Sharon said. “When I wear my glasses, I frame my eyes at least.”

“Your filler migrated,” Violet said. She pushed on the corner of Sharon’s mouth and above her upper lip. “We could take you to my guy.”

Sharon sighed and gave Violet a look. “You’re lucky I like you because what the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t just tell people their filler migrated, you bitch. Also? As if I don’t know it migrated!”

Violet laughed and sat up. She grabbed her mug of coffee and took a long sip. It was the perfect temperature now. She handed the other mug to Sharon and cocked her head to the side to smile sweetly.

“I want to send you back to Alaska better than I found you,” Violet said. “You’ll make up soon enough; you always do. So we’ll dissolve you today and get you redone at the end of the week.”

Sharon touched her own lip, rolled the filler above her lip. She knew it had migrated, of course, but it wasn’t something that concerned her all that much. However, if Violet could get her an appointment with her person? Well, who was Sharon to deny that expert needle?

“Okay,” Sharon said. “Make the call.”

“Oh my God,” Violet said excitedly. She pulled her phone out of her sweatpants’ pocket. “This is going to be so great.”

Sharon picked Eugene up and put him in her lap now that Violet had freed up the real estate. She stroked the cat and listened to Violet chat with the receptionist as if she was her aunt or something. When she hung up, it was with an appointment that afternoon.

“Have you talked to Alaska?” Violet said.

“Not since she left for the show.”

Violet’s eyes widened and she clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“Which one of you is letting the communication gap like this?” Violet asked.

“Me,” Sharon said.

“You’re ignoring her?”

“My phone’s off.”

“You’re a fucking monster.”

Sharon closed her eyes and murmured, “I know.”

* * *

Sharon had run up behind Alaska and picked her up. Alaska had screeched with shock and joy as Sharon had spun them around the beach. She had set her back down and Alaska had taken Sharon’s hand and walked into her side. They were all giggles now, and that was just how Alaska liked Sharon best: loose, laughing, and sweet.

“I want to live in that lighthouse so bad,” Sharon had said as she pointed to the black and white lighthouse in the distance.

“I know,” Alaska had drawled, “but I don’t think I’m ready to give you up so you can become a crusty hermit who lives in the lighthouse.”

“Why won’t you support my dreams?” Sharon had asked.

It was sunset on Presque Isle in Erie in July. Alaska had managed to convince Sharon to come up to Erie with her for her newborn nephew’s welcome party, as her mother called it. Sharon had been skeptical, of course, since she wasn’t stupid enough to think she had suddenly won anyone over, but she had finally agreed to the trip to make Alaska happy—and to see if this was even something they could manage to do: family parties.

Several of them had decided to come back to the beach that evening to walk along the shore, see the sunset, and most importantly, give some privacy to the new mother and baby. They were hardly alone as it was the busy season here, but it was not nearly as crowded as it had been that day which gave them all some room to spread out as they walked.

Sharon had wrapped her arm around Alaska and had given her a squeeze. She had kissed the top of her head and breathed in the beachy smell. Lake Erie wasn’t salt water, of course, but there was still a distinct smell that clung to her. After the day in the sun, Alaska had a little color to her that really made her bright blue eyes pop.

“I love the sunset on the water,” Sharon had said as she looked out at the lake.

“You just love water,” Alaska had corrected.

Sharon had walked them closer to the shoreline to walk through the water as it ran up the shore. They had worn shorts alone over their bathing suits, so Sharon had the idea in the back of her head that she could get in the water again if she wanted. Alaska had been right: she loved water.

Behind them, Alaska’s niece and nephew had run through the water, up the beach, and back down. They could hear her mother and siblings laughing and chatting loudly from several yards back. When Alaska had started to hum that song that had been stuck in her head all day, Sharon had looked up at her.

“Sing it,” she had said.

“Right now?” Alaska had asked, laughing.

Sharon had looked around: there were several couples and families around them. Why would that matter though? Alaska had a nice voice and it was summer! She had nodded and Alaska had laughed again. She had rubbed at the back of her neck and glanced around, too.

“If you don’t, I will,” Sharon had said, “and I really don’t have the voice for Lana like you do.”

Alaska leaned in to kiss Sharon hard. They parted with an exaggerated mwah! from Alaska. Sharon had licked her lips and looked at her through hooded eyes. It was hard not to be smitten with Alaska after every move, even just a silly kiss.

“Hot summer nights, mid-July, when you and I were forever wild!” Alaska had sang.

Sharon bent down to pick up a smooth, marbled stone from the shore. She rubbed it absently as they walked and she listened to Alaska.

“The crazy days, city lights, the way you’d play with me like a child,” Alaska had continued. She had smiled on that line as she had remembered the boisterous game of horseshoes that had gone down with them against her brothers that day. “Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful. Will you still love me when I’ve got nothing but my aching soul.”

A few people had looked at them, but they hadn’t seemed put out; they had looked intrigued, getting on their toes to try to look down at who was singing by the water. Sharon hadn’t lied when she had said that Alaska had the voice for Lana. The quality of her voice lent itself well to the dramatic, warbling crooning.

“I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will.”

Sharon had started dancing to Alaska’s singing—well, not so much dancing as swaying and moving her arms. This had always been Sharon’s favorite verse: focusing on the stage, the performing, the ‘pretty face and electric soul.’ She would need to convince Alaska to put this in a show. There had to be a gig for this.

“Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?” Alaska belted.

“I know I will, I know I will,” Sharon had cut in. She had laughed over the cheesiness of it, but it was right there! Besides, she had known Alaska would love it. “I know that I will.”

Alaska had smiled with delighted shock and looked down at Sharon. Sharon had looked up at her and—

“I’m so sorry for the wait,” the Delta employee on the other side of the phone said, pulling Alaska from her memories. “It is technically too late, but we can absolutely make a refund work for you for that flight thanks to your travel insurance and because you two are members of SkyMiles.”

“Great, thank you so much,” Alaska said. “Something came up last-minute and my partner had to rush out early. I was hopeful, but yeah, like you said—well, thank you.”

“Of course, Mr. Honard,” the representative said. “Would you like this back on the card or as a credit towards another flight with us in the future?”

“Is the card under Honard or Coady?” Alaska asked. “I can’t remember who paid for these ones.”

“Ah, it is… Let me check…” The representative tutted softly. “It’s under Coady.”

Alaska paused for several seconds. That was a difficult decision. They’d definitely use the miles somewhere. However, if that money went back on Sharon’s card without her knowledge, Alaska could see a problem. But it wasn’t like Sharon couldn’t use the money.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just thinking. Uh, put it back on the card, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Honard,” the representative said. “Ooookay, that should be pending in his account and should be available in 1-3 business days. Can I help you with anything else?”

Yeah, can you call him and tell him?

“No, that’s it, thank you,” Alaska said.

“It’s my pleasure,” she said. “I hope you have a great day and thank you for choosing Delta.”

Alaska ended the call and flopped back on the bed. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to bring back the happy memories from Erie last summer again. It was no use. She was now caught up in wondering what Sharon would think about the money going back into her account and worrying about why Sharon still hadn’t called her.

Alaska: Baby, I refunded your flight to Vegas since you’re already in LA. It should be back on your card soon.

Alaska: I’m sorry I didn’t let you talk before. I was freaking out and not in my right mind.

Alaska: But this ice out is killing me.

* * *

Somehow the med spa Violet frequented felt both highly clinical with its clean, white lines and highly continue-on-your-journey-namaste with its gauzy curtains and crystals. Sharon ran her hand through her hair as she examined the skincare and other miscellaneous items on the shelves while Violet spoke with the receptionist. She picked up an amethyst, turned it around in her hand, and then put it back on the shelf. Maybe if she was trying to win Jeremy over—no use there; the ship hadn’t only sailed but hit an iceberg and sank—she’d get that, but otherwise, there was no reason to buy crystals. They were just pretty rocks. They didn’t need pretty rocks for their cats to knock onto the floor.

“Aaron,” Violet said. “Your ID?”

Sharon came to lean against the high counter beside Violet. She handed over her license. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard Violet use her boy-name before. That was always a strange part about friendship with queens: the names and if you ever switch names, and if so, when do you do it?

“Thank you, Jason,” Sharon said.

Violet laughed and the buckles all over her jacket clanged and jingled with the movement. She shrugged and signaled to Sharon and herself, both of course out of drag, to explain. Sharon nodded in understanding; she didn’t mind Violet, of all people, using her boy-name. They were long overdue for it.

“Did you see the…” Violet trailed off as she crossed to the shelves on the other side of the waiting area. “This? A local jeweler sells in here.”

Sharon joined her at the shelf and picked up a chain. It was a necklace with a single hoop in the center and then two chains on either side, one thin and one thick. Sharon held it up and then laid it over Violet’s collar to see how it would lay. The thick chain wrapped around her neck while the thinner one draped prettily.

“I’m going to get this,” Sharon said.

“For Alaska?” Violet asked.

Sharon gave her a look. “Well, I’m certainly not going to wear it.”

Violet smiled and looked away to try to hide it from Sharon. She took a seat and plucked a fashion magazine from the table while Sharon paid for the necklace.

“Have you called her yet?” Violet asked.

“No,” Sharon said. Her cheeks bloomed with color. “I haven’t even turned my phone on.”

“Oh my God,” Violet said. “You’re not going to have a boyfriend to give a gift to if you keep this up! Gimme your phone.”

“Absolutely not,” Sharon said.

“Come on!”

“No. I can’t anyway. It’s at your house.”

Violet groaned and smacked the magazine against her lap. Again, her jacket jingled with the movement. Sharon had to walk over then and run her hands over the buckles. It was objectively an incredible piece. Subjectively, Sharon adored it. She patted Violet’s cheek and put on an amused smirk. It was all show, however, because her stomach was turning over the phone and what waited for her there.

Luckily for her, Sharon heard her name and got up to go back for the filler dissolution. This left Violet alone in the waiting area. She took out her phone to text Gottmik and another friend. She scrolled socials until she saw a clip of Alaska belting out ‘Landslide.’ She watched it twice. Alaska was a fun performer, and Violet liked seeing her, but this was different. This had so much emotion. This was a message; it had to be.

Violet cut her eyes to the door to the back and then looked at her phone again.

“Hazel, I’m gonna go back to Aaron,” Violet said.

Before the receptionist could respond, Violet had pushed open the door and walked through to the back room where she could hear Sharon talking. Shocker. She smirked as she slipped in and pulled a chair up beside her.

“Oh, hi,” Sharon said.

“Violet,” Dr. DiAntonio said on a sigh. “You can’t—”

“Do you mind?” Violet asked Sharon.

Sharon shook her head. “No.”

“Great,” Violet said. “Okay, so I need to show you this.”

DiAntonio sighed and turned away to finish getting himself in order. This was an easy enough job: dissolve the filler that migrated above the lip and most of the upper lip. He had just finished examining Sharon’s face, discussing the possibilities and desired results, and ironing out the return date to redo the lips. He prepped Sharon’s arm for the patch test.

“Look at this,” Violet said.

She held up the phone in front of Sharon’s face and hit ‘Watch Again’ on the Instagram clip. Sharon pursed her lips but watched Alaska stand center stage and own it. Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’ cause I’ve built my life around you. The crowd was silent, impressively so, as she belted out the song. But time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I’m gettin’ older, too. Oh, take my love, take it down.

“She sounds incredible,” Violet said. “You forget she can really, really sing because she fucks around with vocals so often.”

“I don’t forget,” Sharon murmured. “That’s one of our songs.”

“Okay, hold still, Aaron,” DiAntonio said. “You’re going to feel some pinches and a little burning. Let me know if it’s unmanageable. We can take pauses.”

“I’ve done filler, tattoos, and tattoo removal,” Sharon said with a smirk. “Don’t worry about me. This’ll be nothing.”

Dr. DiAntonio began his work which effectively shut Sharon up. Just what Violet was hoping for.

“You should call her when we get back to mine,” Violet said. “Call her, iron this out, have her come out here, too, before the next viewing party?”

Sharon closed her eyes. She couldn’t speak quite yet, but she could make her feelings clear to Violet this way. Violet groaned.

“Also, ‘Landslide’ is one of your songs?” Violet asked. “That’s so weird.” A beat. “So she was singing to you here and you won’t call her back?”

“You need to call… her?” Dr. DiAntonio trailed off.

Luckily, he had pulled back to get the other syringe because Sharon sputtered a laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “No, it’s my boyfriend. He’s a drag queen, too. We’re in pronoun hell, all of us.”

“He sang your song? You have to call him,” DiAntonio said. “Hold still. One more.”

“They were in a fight,” Violet said, “and it’s all really stupid and definitely the boyfriend’s fault. But Aaron’s stupider because he ran over here from Pennsylvania and won’t turn his phone on. Isn’t that stupid and terrible and the fastest way to lose a boyfriend?”

DiAntonio hummed in agreement while Sharon rolled her eyes.

“What are you so scared of?” Violet asked.

DiAntonio pulled back and looked at Sharon expectantly, but she said nothing. She only stared up at him and waited. He returned to injecting the last of hyaluronidase around and into her lips. He then rubbed a balm over the area while Sharon eyed Violet beside her. Violet was tapping away at her phone.

Violet: Sharon’s with me.

Alaska: Currently?

Violet: I’m looking at her.

Alaska: She left a note, but I haven’t heard from her.

Violet: She’s a full ostrich.

Alaska: I am sure that means something to you.

Violet: You know. Ostrich? Head in the sand? Avoidance? You’ve never heard that expression.

Alaska: Burying your head in the sand? Yes. Shorthanding that to ostrich? No.

Alaska: I want to talk to her.

Violet: I’m trying.

Alaska: Tell her she’s killing me, so if that’s what she wants, she’s getting it.

“Okay, you’re all set, Aaron,” DiAntonio said. “We’ll see you in a few days for the reconstruction.”

Sharon thanked the doctor and went up front to pay for the procedure and the necklace and confirm the next appointment. Then she and Violet left to continue their cold war over Alaska and what Sharon should do:

“She’s not going to break up with you! She told me!”

“Why would she tell you if she was?”

“Listen to the voicemails! Read the texts! You’re a psychopath!”

“I know!”

* * *

“So, Sharon, you’ve been famous for how you changed the perspective of Drag Race with your run and win; your tumultuous, passionate relationship with Alaska; your insensitive language and shock tactics; and your alcohol and drug abuse. What stereotype are you hoping to hit next to prove you’re nothing but a punk poser and wholly predictable?”

Sharon blinked a few times at Maddy Morphosis, who stared back at her through white contact lenses, and then burst out laughing. She shivered and ended her genuine laughter with one of her spooky, airy giggles. Doing Give it to me Straight had been Alaska’s idea, but Sharon had seen the merits. Now she was wondering if it was a mistake.

“You know, I’ve watched the show before, but I still wasn’t ready for it,” Sharon said.

Maddy smiled and shrugged. “I guess you’re not predictable; I wouldn’t have thought you watched.”

“But since you asked, up next, I think I’d like to go out like the Black Dahlia,” Sharon said. “Slice me and dice me and leave me in the middle of Liberty Avenue with an alligator.”

“So you’d like your final act to be something you copied,” Maddy said. “Noted.”

“I prefer to think of it as an allusion. That is a wonderful literary device, a staple in the community,” Sharon said. “The art of the reference.”

“No diploma but educated enough to give me an English lesson,” Maddy said. “Aren’t you glad you stopped by?”

“Give it to Me Straight,” Sharon said, nodding slowly. “You’re giving it to me, all right. I haven’t been fucked like this in ages.”

“Oh, you’re too kind, but that’s not true. I can’t take that credit, Sharon,” Maddy said. “I’ve seen Alaska’s dick.”

* * *

Sharon would blame it on Las Vegas. Everything was on Las Vegas.

It was Las Vegas that made her accept a cigarette from one of the local queens.

It was Las Vegas that made her get this drunk.

It was Las Vegas that made get lost in the music on the dance floor.

She, Violet, and Gottmik were in town for the episode viewing party, but that was the next night. On this night, Sharon couldn’t even think about Heroes vs Villains. She was thinking of two things: where her next drink was coming from and if the next song was going to suck.

Her decision to nix coming in drag had been incredibly wise. While Violet and Gottmik were content to drape themselves over expensive lounge chairs high upon the platform in the VIP and be viewed as art, Sharon was not. She wanted to move. She left the corsets, patent leather, and stilettos to them; she gladly dressed in acid washed jeans, stoned boots, and a faded Bowie shirt.

It was Las Vegas that made her dance with every man who came her way.

There was no other explanation for how she let herself go. She never let someone else dance with her like this—other than a partner—and yet she let herself be spun and handled like she wasn’t incredibly allergic to submission at even the most basic level. When one man took her hand and started to walk her away from the floor, towards the bathrooms,Sharon stumbled after him without a second-thought. This guy had had good ideas so far and he was dazzlingly good looking with his chiseled jaw and haunting eyes.

“Oh, hi, no, thank you!” Violet said.

Sharon would have sworn Violet appeared on the side of the dance floor then. There had been nobody and then then were had been Violet in all her dominatrix glory. She took Sharon’s arm and gave a firm yank to pull her away; and it worked because Sharon stumbled to the side out of the man’s hold.

“No, thank you!” Violet said again, looking the man up and down.

“Who’s asking you?” the man asked. “Get back on your pedestal, princess. The adults are busy.”

“No discount Joe Manganiello bitch who doesn’t wash his ass is taking my friend in these bathrooms,” Violet said with a laugh. “Run along. Find yourself another mark. Bye-bye, darling.”

Now Sharon let Violet pull her in the opposite direction and up to the VIP platform. She sprawled over Violet’s lounge chair and threw her forearm over her eyes. Gottmik snorted and rubbed Sharon’s chest.

“Should we get the fire extinguisher?” Gottmik asked Violet.

Sharon furrowed her brow but said nothing. She didn’t understand the comment, but she was too wasted to voice her confusion and ask.

“No,” Violet said. “There’s no need. No harm, no foul.”

“What was it she had said before? She cheats with models; Alaska cheats with normal people?” Gottmik asked. She kept rubbing Sharon’s chest.

“Nobody’s cheating on anybody,” Violet said firmly. “Nothing’s on fire. There is no arson. There is no fire. Nobody’s burning up anybody else.”

“Do not pass Go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars,” Sharon slurred.

Gottmik and Violet stared down at her and then looked at each other before they cackled. Violet fell forward on the lounge to lay against Sharon.

“Exactly,” Violet said. “What happens—or doesn’t happen—in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

* * *

Before Episode 5’s viewing party, Sharon stood at a hightop in the audience signing posters. She and Violet were nearly finished which she kept reminding herself as her arm and hand ached. The same constant motion on her bad hand wasn’t ideal for the nerve damage. That wasn’t going to stop her now though; it had been a long while since she had needed to sign so many things for fans. She was embracing it.

“You hold your pen like you’ve never heard of a pen,” Violet said. “It’s your first day writing.”

“Mocking me for my disability?” Sharon cried. “Cancel her! Cancel her!”

Violet laughed. “No one would ever believe you. You’re an unreliable narrator.”

“That’s a funny way to say ‘scorned,’” Sharon said. She signed the last two and let out a cheer. “Okay! I’m going to go get dressed. I’m so glad we painted at the hotel. I’d look like a coloring book if I had to paint after all that signing. Fucking fucked hand.”

Sharon jogged to the stage and climbed up on it to cut back to the wings. She had nearly made it to the green room when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side and against the wall. Much to her surprise, she didn’t make a sound as she came to terms with her death. She only gasped and wondered if the heart attack would take her or if this assailant would. However, while it felt long, it was all short-lived before she saw familiar eyes: Alaska’s.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Sharon asked.

“I will be killing you if you do not talk to me,” Alaska said.

Alaska had pinned Sharon to the wall with relative ease. Even now, when she barely held her, Sharon did not push against her. She let Alaska hold her there with her forearm across her chest and her legs bracketing hers. Sharon’s chest heaved, the only outward sign of her fear, but it was enough for Alaska. She had known this would scare Sharon greatly, but she also knew how this could have gone if she hadn’t literally caught her: full snow storm where Alaska would be turned into a lonely snowman in the wake of Sharon’s blizzard.

“I’m sorry,” Alaska said softly.

“For scaring me? Yes, thank you,” Sharon said.

“No,” Alaska said. She paused. “Well, okay, yeah, I am sorry for scaring you, but for when I did it back in New York, not now. I’m not sorry for this. This was necessary.”

Sharon studied Alaska carefully. She swallowed thickly and looked off to the side, past Alaska’s head. The doors would be opening in an hour, so there were several employees milling about; and yet, not one came over to see what was happening in this little corner of backstage. She didn’t want this conversation to stop, not now that it seemed maybe like it was going in her direction, but at the same time, the immense nausea that left her seasick was a problem.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Alaska said again. “I… I didn’t even let you talk to me. I just lost it. I thought, well, I thought I was doing it again and I lost my mind.”

“Why would you even think that?” Sharon asked. She still didn’t look at her. “Michelle just said it and you said, ‘Oh, okay, I guess that’s what’s happening’? You’re not stupid.”

Alaska winced. “I… I did do that. She pointed out where you were and where I was and I, I, I haven’t done a solo Alaska gig since before the Anniversary Tour and—”

“You always did a mix though,” Sharon said. “After we broke up, you always did shows with me and friends and whole groups along with your own. This isn’t different except, except I’m booking again.”

“And I’m backstage and following you around.” Alaska finally stepped back from pinning Sharon and signaled to the theatre. “Like I am now.”

Sharon straightened up and pushed herself off the wall. She pulled at her T-shirt and rubbed at her arms like she was cleaning herself up in some way. She could still feel the firm pressure and heat of Alaska’s arm against her. She was hollow without it.

“But,” Sharon began. She shook her head.

“What?” Alaska asked.

“But why is that a problem,” Sharon began, “if—”

“Because—” Alaska interjected.

“No!” Sharon said firmly. “Let me finish a fucking sentence before you end up running off to, to, to Tucson, Arizona, or, or Salt Lake City!”

Alaska opened her mouth and then promptly closed it with such force that it clicked. Sharon furrowed her brow and glanced at Alaska’s mouth before meeting her eyes. Alaska gave a little shake of her head. It actually made Sharon snort.

“Okay,” Sharon said. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Why is it a problem that you’re following me if I then follow you? That’s what I was trying to say before. I was trying to say that I’m booked the nights you booked, and so I can’t go with you.”

Sharon’s chest heaved again but from a different kind of fear.

“I wanted to say I couldn’t come with you, not that you couldn’t go,” Sharon continued. “I, I was hurt that you booked on me like that, but that was just because we had plans already, not because you wanted to work.”

Alaska stepped forward to press Sharon to the wall again. She leaned her forehead on the wall beside Sharon’s and tilted her head against Sharon’s. She would not have been surprised if Sharon pushed her away now. But she didn’t. She put her hand on Alaska’s waist and waited.

“It really, really scares me to think I’ll be that Alaska again,” she whispered. “That was the worst version of myself I knew. I was terrible to myself. I was terrible to my friends. I was terrible to you.”

“And I was terrible to you,” Sharon added quietly.

Maturity had done a lot for them. Namely, it left them both able to do one thing right: take ownership of their cruelty and infidelity. They had talked about it separately in interviews, but they had so rarely discussed it together and especially not in private.

“You think being with me will make you that way again,” Sharon murmured.

“No,” Alaska said without hesitation. “No, I don’t think that, and I don’t think that you need me to be an assistant or anything. I just… I just think that we need to be really, really conscious of our careers and what we do and how we do it.”

Sharon turned her face into Alaska’s to nose her hair. She squeezed her side.

“We need to talk about this more,” Alaska said. “We need to figure out the details.”

“I know,” Sharon said. It was perhaps too quick, too tight.

“But we’re okay,” Alaska whispered. “We’re okay. I love you. I was never going anywhere. I just—”

“Walked away from me to go to Philly,” Sharon said.

“Okay, yeah, I did literally go somewhere,” Alaska said. She sighed. “But I wasn’t leaving you.”

Sharon sighed. “I love Michelle, but right now, I hate Michelle. What was her basis? Watching you in the wings while I sang? Anyone looks like a supporting role there. What about when I watched you in the club while you sang? Is that not the same thing?”

“I handled it all really poorly,” Alaska admitted. “I shouldn’t have just acted on, on emotions. I should have talked to you—or really, had you talk with me.”

Sharon hummed in agreement.

“Do you know what you shouldn’t have done?”

“Fly hundreds and hundreds of miles away without warning and then ignore you?”

“And people say you’re not self-aware!”

Sharon huffed a laugh and nodded against Alaska’s head. “I’m self-aware. I’m just… I’m just… Sometimes it’s like I’m split in two: there’s the part of me that’s a totally normal and thoughtful, and then there’s the part that’s fucking feral.”

Alaska said nothing, just breathed.

“I’m sorry,” Sharon said. “I… I was afraid you were going to break up with me, and I didn’t want to hear that voicemail or see anymore ‘we need to talk’ texts, so I just turned off my phone.”

“You’re so lucky you left a note and that Violet texted me,” Alaska said. “That’s really fucking scary, you know? It’s really fucking scary for you not to answer me. What if you were dead? What if something had happened and I couldn’t know?”

“I’m sorry,” Sharon said. She hesitated only a second. “I will work really hard not to, not to, ah, do that again. I know I do that.”

“Queen of the Cold Shoulder,” Alaska said with a sigh. “You’re expert at ignoring someone to punish them.” She sighed again. “And I’m expert at the fit. I’m sorry, really.”

Alaska shifted so she could press her face into Sharon’s shoulder and chest instead. She breathed her in deeply and then tilted her head back to look up at Sharon.

“You’ve been smoking,” Alaska said.

“Fuck.” Sharon closed her eyes. “Fuck.”

* * *

“Daya, as winner of this week’s challenge mini-challenge, you get to assign the other queens their partners,” Michelle said.

Daya looked positively gleeful as she looked at her fellow queens—Jinkx, Adore, Peppermint, Detox, IT Girl, Violet, and Sharon—and then at the line of new moms. She hummed and shifted her weight from foot to foot. Finally, she began assigning them. She gave herself the thinnest, tallest woman who appeared to be on the edgier side judging by her haircut.

She gave Sharon the shortest, blondest, and seemingly shyest mom who wore a dress that looked like Little House on the Prairie. She was not a bigger woman, but she had some extra weight that Sharon imagined was from her pregnancy. While other queens chuckled at the obvious attempt at sabotage, Sharon only smiled broadly at her mom and hugged her.

“What’s your name?” Sharon asked softly.

“Mindy,” she said.

“Hi, Mindy,” she said. “I’m Sharon.

Violet also was given a woman against type: masculine, larger, and tough.

In her confessional, Violet said, “Okay, so Daya’s threatened by me and by Sharon. Noted. Remembered. Fuck her.”

“Remember, ladies,” Michelle said. “You are getting your moms here ready for a night out at the villain’s nightclub or the hero’s gala. Dress and style them appropriately for their event!”

Sharon took her partner by the hand and led her over to her table. She pulled out a stool for her and signaled to it before taking out her notebook and hopping up across from her. For a moment, she said nothing, just tapped her pencil and frowned deeply. Then, it was like a switch had been flipped and she was all smiles again.

“Okay, first of all, congratulations!” Sharon said. “Is this your first?”

“Yeah, yes,” Mindy said. “I had a little boy named Ishmael three months ago, and he’s perfect.”

Sharon’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, Ishmael is quite a name for a little boy.”

“It is!” Mindy laughed. “But one day he won’t be a little boy.”

“Son of Abraham,” Sharon said, nodding slowly. “Are you very religious?”

“My relationship with God is very important to me,” Mindy said seriously.

In her confessional, Sharon scrubbed at her jaw and said, “Of course it is. Now I’m going to offend this woman by my existence alone. Do you think it’s worse that I don’t actually worship Satan or better? What’s worse: pretending to worship Satan or actually doing it? Now where does being gay and cross-dressing come in?” Sharon threw up her hands. “Then again, she did agree to this fucking show!”

Sharon held up a finger and slipped off the stool to grab her photos from her makeup area. She laid them out on the table by Mindy for her to look at. They were photos of her and Alaska, her and friends. They showcased her drag rather nicely.

“This is me,” Sharon said. “And I need to dress you up to go to an evil night club. Also I’m a flaming homosexual who is incredibly irreverent and gets in trouble all the time.”

Mindy nodded slowly as she picked up a photo of Sharon and Alaska out of drag.

“He’s cute,” she said.

“He’s fucking gorgeous,” Sharon agreed. “And too good for me, but please don’t tell him. I think he hit his head or something and forgot.” Mindy giggled which obviously relaxed Sharon; the tightness fell away from her shoulders. “He’s incredible. You’ll never meet someone so smart and so talented. Ambitious as hell."

“What’s his name?” Mindy asked.

“Alaska,” Sharon said, “is his drag name. Alaska Thunderfuck 5000” She pointed to a photo of Alaska in drag. “But his boy-name is Justin.”

“I wish my husband was this cute,” Mindy teased. “Don’t worry. He won’t watch this.”

Sharon snorted. “Are you okay with doing my aesthetic?”

Mindy picked up another photo of Sharon and Alaska. The camera zoomed in on it. The photo was perfect: both of them smiling at each other as they sang. Sharon wore a white dress with red beading along the neck and chest that looked like dripping blood.

“Of course,” Mindy said. “Do whatever you have to. We have to win, right?”

Sharon kissed her forehead and hugged her. “Right!”

In her confessional, Sharon said, “Poor Daya gave me the easiest one accidentally: no opinions, no issues, no concerns. Mindy’s even saying prayers for me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. “And yes, that does explain the burning smell coming off me.”

* * *

“I’m frankly disgusted by how much you talk about Alaska,” Anetra, as moderator, said. She laughed. “So sickly sweet. I have a toothache. You didn’t do this the first time.”

“Oh, no, I did,” Sharon said, “but it didn’t make the cut beyond the mirror shots with loved one photos, I think. Maybe it did somewhere else. Well, in Untucked, obviously, with that whole fiasco with drag and ‘real men.’” She widened her eyes slightly. “But I guess it’s more this time, yes.”

“I think it worked in your favor here,” Anetra said. “Your mom seemed to like her.”

“When your boyfriend’s hot, it really helps you,” Sharon agreed. “I should keep more boy-Alaska photos at the ready. Problem at the bank? ‘Oh, but have you seen my boyfriend? Isn’t he handsome?’” Sharon tapped her temple. “I’ve got plans now.”

“Were you worried about this challenge?” Anetra asked.

“No, not particularly,” Sharon said. “I briefly was when I thought she was going to tell me she’s too religious to dress for the villain club, but otherwise, no. Last time I did a challenge like this, it was with an asshole dad. I’ll take a religious mom over that any day.”

“Oh my God,” Violet said from the other loveseat on stage. “That’s so funny that you keep having to dress up parents in drag. Would your mom have done a dress-your-mom-up design challenge?”

Sharon grimaced. “Mm, I don’t know. I’d’ve probably begged for my niece instead.”

“Violet, you’re having a helluva time,” Anetra said.

“God, I know,” Violet said. “My partner here was not feeling me at all. I don’t even think I was being crazy. I wasn’t trying to corset her or get too femme, but she is supposed to be in drag in a nightclub, so I needed to do something.”

Backstage, Alaska and Gottmik lingered as plus-ones. They were going to go out later and join to create a whole little panel of current and former contestants, but for now, they just watched.

“Is it weird?” Gottmik whispered. “Like, is it weird to hear her talk about you on the show?”

“Are you kidding?” Alaska whispered back. “You wouldn’t want to hear your partner say you’re handsome and brilliant and talented on national television?”

* * *

“Hey, speaking of Alaska,” Adore said. “Would she be a hero or villain?”

“Oh, a hero, come on,” Sharon said as she sketched out a silhouette for her partner. “There’s no question.”

“Uh, she’s a snake,” Daya said. “Isn’t that her whole thing? She’s sneaky.”

“No, she’s not sneaky,” Sharon said. “That’s the whole point. She’s in your face.”

“She’s definitely not sneaky,” Jinkx agreed. “She doesn’t hide her ambition. She doesn’t stab you in the back. If she’s stabbing, it’s in the front.”

Violet chuckled. “But she’s crafty and ruthless.”

“If we’re going off the show—” Daya began.

“But clearly we’re not,” Sharon said. “If we were going off the show, I’d be a hero, but I’m not, soooooo.” She held her hands up and shrugged. “She’s beloved. She’s a fan favorite. She’s everywhere. She’s kind to up-and-comers. She’s a hero.”

“She screwed over several girls to save a mediocre friend,” Daya said.

“Not Roxxy Andrews when she’s only here to make it clear,” Adore said with a gasp. When Peppermint shoved her playfully, she laughed.”What? That verse is too good.”

“She bribed Detox to stay,” Daya continued.

“Calm down,” Detox said absently from her table. “This is ancient history.”

“Crying over Jinkx’s winning?” Daya suggested.

Jinkx rolled her eyes. “Literally one of the top queens. A Mount Rushmore Ru Girl! And you’re trying it?”

“She’d be a hero and you know it. Don’t try to drag Alaska just because you hate Sharon,” Detox said. “Worry about your partner.”

In her confessional, Daya sighed and said, “Being surrounded by all these apologists is so painful. I miss Crystal. Even Peppermint doesn’t say anything to Sharon! I wrote Adore off already.”

Sharon took Mindy to the changing area of her side of the work room. She led her behind the privacy screen. The camera, of course, didn’t show Sharon’s helping Mindy into the shell of her dress, but it caught their conversation.

“Why does she hate you?” Mindy asked quietly.

“For many reasons,” Sharon whispered. “Don’t worry about it. We’re going to beat her. Her partner is so fussy and particular, unlike you. You’re perfect.”

“I just want you to win,” Mindy said.

“You’re a sweetheart,” Sharon said. “How old are you, doll?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sharon said under her breath. “Oh, sorry.”

“That’s all right,” Mindy said.

They stepped back out from behind the screen. Mindy was dressed in her own clothes again. Sharon took the dress back to the sewing machine and let out a long, airy sigh.

“Sewing is so hard,” she said, sing-song.

Mindy stood beside her and watched her work the fabric through the machine with her bad hand. She furrowed her brow and reached out to push it through instead.

“What did you do to yourself?” Mindy asked.

“You won’t be impressed with me,” Sharon said, “and we’ve got a good thing going here, so why don’t you google me after?”

Mindy met her eyes and gave her a coy smile. She nodded and gave Sharon a little push to get her out of the seat. She sat down and started sewing the dress together herself. Sharon looked at the producer and pointed to her and then made a thumbs-up in question. While the camera did not catch the producer’s affirmative, it did catch Sharon’s celebrating that she could indeed allow her partner to sew the dress.

“Look, it is one day,” Violet said loudly from across the room. “One day. One day, you can wear something different for one day. I can make you a suit. I can make you a jumpsuit. I can do a lot, but you have to fit my theme.”

“I don’t wear that kinda stuff,” the woman said. “It’s not what makes me comfortable. I don’t like showing skin. I don’t like all that.”

Violet widened her eyes, nodded, and walked away. She had to get away before she said something she’d regret to this poor woman. Sharon went in her place to sit with the woman and look at Violet’s sketches. None of them were particularly revealing. They were all structured and certainly more masculine than anything Violet would put on herself in drag.

“These look nice,” she said to her.

“I’m not a girly-girl like Violet,” the woman said.

“I mean, Violet’s not a girl,” Sharon said, “but she dresses up like one. You’re not Willy Wonka when you dress up like him on Halloween either, but for that night, you pretend.” She pointed to the suit. “What’s wrong with this? This isn’t girly. She really could make this. She’s incredible.”

“I don’t wear suits,” the woman said.

“What do you wear? What do you wear when you’re going out?”

She signaled to her jeans and T-shirt, and Sharon sighed.

“We’re on a reality show,” Sharon said softly. “She can’t put you down the runway in that. She will lose. She needs to elevate you and make you look clubby.”

Violet returned and leaned her head atop Sharon’s. “What if we do a wide-leg trouser and a—”

“I’ll trip,” the woman said.

Violet whined and walked away again. Sharon nodded slowly and got up to return to her partner. She kissed the top of her head as she sat down beside her to keep working. She was so very lucky.

“So I’m going to paint you,” Sharon said. “That’s how we talk about makeup. I’ll do your face to match the darker, vampy theme, of course, but is there anything you want to try?”

“I’ve never worn dark makeup,” Mindy admitted. “Could we do a dark lipstick?”

Sharon patted the table and then got up to get her bag. She brought it over and laid out countless dark lipsticks: purples, reds, maroons, blacks, blues. She then began opening her eyeshadow palettes to show her all the mattes, shimmers, and glitter options. Mindy looked entranced.

“We’re in black and white,” Sharon said, “so we can have fun with the makeup. We can give you that dark lip. We can give you a dramatic eye. Sparkles? A cat eye? You think about what speaks to you here.”

Sharon took the dress from Mindy and held it up. She nodded and then turned it around for her to see. It was a simple mini-dress in silhouette, but Sharon had given it a deep, curving neckline. She was still toying with a tulle train or pointed shoulders, something to give it interest.

“Now, you’re cute as can be,” Sharon said, “and you’ve got this gorgeous face and beautiful breasts.”

Mindy blushed fiercely but smiled.

“We’re going to get you in this now that it’s complete, and you’re going to tell me if you’re comfortable,” Sharon said, “because if you’re not, we can make changes. I need you to own that runway and you can’t do that if you want to crawl into my grave and die.”

Mindy and Sharon returned to the privacy screens to get her into the dress. The cameras could just see Sharon as she gasped and clapped her hands.

“Oh, look at you,” she said. “Turn around. Look in the mirror. See what I mean? Your tits look incredible. Where’s your husband now? I wish he could see you.”

Mindy laughed. “Stop, oh, you’re so bad.”

“I’m a villain, baby,” Sharon said. “Okay, great, that’s perfect. Let me have that to do the details. You look at makeup and swatch and see what makes you happy. Oh! And try to find shoes in your size over at the wall. The highest you can walk in without dying are the winner.”

* * *

“I’d like to welcome our villains’ plus-ones this evening,” Anetra said. “Give it up for Gottmik… and Alaska!”

The crowd cheered and clapped as Gottmik and Alaska walked out from the wings. Gottmik sat next to Violet and crossed her legs daintily. She and Violet then both shifted into poses because it was a given that people were photographing them sitting there in their coordinated looks.

Then, Alaska took a seat beside Sharon. They had not coordinated, of course, but nobody expected them to, not like they did with friendship-goals Violet and Gottmik. Sharon put her hand on Alaska’s thigh and Alaska curled her fingers around it. She met Sharon's eyes and Sharon winked at her. They were okay.

“What are you thinking right now as we watch, Gottmik?” Anetra asked.

“I’m wondering how Daya managed to screw Violet so royally,” Gottmik said, “and also how she managed to screw herself, too. She thought she gave herself the easiest one, but her mom is really making her work for it!”

“Serves her right.” Violet shrugged. “What? She’s here acting high and mighty like she’s not with us on the villains team. I’m not against her giving her competition supposedly tougher jobs, but I do have a problem with her acting like she’s so righteous in doing it.”

“I know,” Alaska drawled. “She obviouslyyyy wanted to be the hero of her season so badlyyyyy. Sorry, Daya, but you were the villain then and you’re the villain now. That’s actually impressive. I was sure Sharon was going to end up with the villain edit.”

“I’m an underdog every time, baby,” Sharon said. She wiggled her eyebrows. “Thank you, Daya, for the jump in my popularity.”

“How about when she decided to list your shadiness, Alaska?” Anetra asked.

Alaska rolled her eyes. “I knoooow. That was something. I mean, you have to give it to her. She tries it. She really tries it. I don’t know what she’s trying, but she’s certainly attempting.”

The audience laughed.

“What do you make of the fashion so far?” Anetra asked.

Gottmik leaned forward. “Well, I’m really impressed by Sharon so far. Like that cute little dress? That neckline, from what I could see when you held it up, that’s going to be really flattering on her. I’m loving Detox’s acid look. Peppermint’s dress is on the safe side, but ya know, it’s cute.”

Gottmik trailed off and slowly looked at Violet.

“It’s okay,” Violet said, “you can say it.”

“My sister’s in trouble, y’all,” Gottmik said with a laugh. “Like, sis can sew, but her partner is something else. Daya shoulda given her to Sharon.”

“Violet’s a better seamstress and designer than I am,” Sharon said, “so she probably figured she needed that handicap.”

“She didn’t realize that Sharon’s actually very personable,” Alaska said, “and that a shy, little woman with a body isn’t a problem.”

Sharon nodded in agreement. “All I know is that Jinkx is probably feeling real good when looking at Daya’s unfinished garment.”

“And my hell,” Violet added. “We can just admit that I’m in hell. I know where I am. I have a key to it. Sharon gave it to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Sharon said.

* * *

“And our final duo of the night… Sharon Needles and her new bestie Mindynight Snack!”

Sharon and Mindy walked out from opposite wings to meet in the middle of the runway to walk down, hand-in-hand. With her big, blonde curls, shiny black lipstick, and burgundy eyes, Mindy was unrecognizable. She strutted down the runway in her mini-dress with the tiered tulle train like she had been doing it for years. Sharon, in a similar wig and matching makeup, wore one of the outfits she’d brought from home: a long-sleeved dress covered in studs with the similar deep, curvy neckline she’d given Mindy.

When everyone came to the stage for the judging, Peppermint and Adore were safe and sent to the lounge while Daya, Jinkx, Violet, Sharon, IT Girl, and Detox were kept for discussion. In the end—after agonizingly brutal critiques that left Violet reeling and Daya seething—it was clear that Sharon, IT Girl, and Detox were contenders for the win while Daya, Jinkx, and Violet were in the bottom. For once, the queens were sent back to the lounge but the moms were kept for examination.

When they got back to the work room lounge area, Daya threw herself into one of the chairs and crossed her arms over her chest. Peppermint and Adore exchanged looks before looking away as if suddenly very distracted by the unchanged scenery.

* * *

“She’s so pissed like she is not the keeper of her own destiny,” Alaska said. “Like why is she throwing a fit like she did not choose her partner and did not make the garment.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, too,” Anetra said. “She did this. She had the choice. She chose wrong, and that’s fine, but why the childishness?”

“At least be mad when something is outside your control,” Alaska said. “Time your fits better. God, amateur.”

All eyes went to Sharon after that who held up her hands and shook her head.

“I’m not touching that one,” Sharon said. “I have nothing to say about how valid Alaska’s fits are and if she times them well.”

Alaska laughed and leaned into Sharon’s side.

* * *

“Daya, get over it,” Violet said. “You’re in the bottom. So what? You might not lip sync. You might. Then you get to prove yourself.”

Daya shook her head. “I just don’t get it. This should have been easy. I don’t get why she wouldn’t just wear what I made her and walk like she wasn’t going to her death! She signed up to be on this show.”

Sharon could understand that last sentiment. It was wild when the volunteers that were brought in for the design challenges were so aggressively against being part of the challenge. Just give in. Just ham it up for an episode and move on. She nodded along as she sipped her drink.

“And don’t look so smug, Sharon,” Daya said. “You lucked out this time because your girl had a big transformation. That was just a basic dress. Your day is coming.”

Sharon held up her hands. “Daya, you do not have to like me, but you also do not have to treat every breath and twitch from me as an attack. I do not think of you nearly as much as you think of me, and I encourage you to forget my name as soon as possible for your own sake. You’re going to end up with wrinkles.”

“Only you are going to end up with wrinkles here because you’re the one with the sour face and sour attitude and sour choices,” Daya said.

In her confessional, Adore looked confused as she said, “Only Sharon is going to get wrinkles? Nobody else here is aging except her? I love that for me!”

“This experiment should be over. I’m done watching them try to rehabilitate you,” Daya continued. “You’re a bad person who does bad things and having you as ‘a villain’ next to Detox and Violet?”

Detox made a throat cutting gesture. “Nah, girl, I’m where I belong.” She squawked with laughter. “This is the right couch.”

“I’m just saying that I should’t be on the same team as someone like her,” Daya said.

“Oh, yes, you’re very good and everyone’s so impressed that you’ve never made a mistake in your life,” Sharon said with a wave of her hand. “Yes, you never took a chance or did something risky because Mommy and Daddy were there to catch you when you fell.”

“Bitch, don’t. What do you even know about adversity?” Daya asked.

Sharon laughed bitterly. “What do I know? What do I know?”

“Sharon,” Jinkx warned as she hurried around the tables in the workroom to get to her.

“I didn’t finish high school! My guidance counselor told me I was the problem and I distracted the other students. That’s why they had to torture me. That’s why I had to drop out. Think of their education.” She smiled darkly. “I lived on the goddamn streets in several cities. You don’t know ‘adversity.’” Sharon threw her hands up in the air. “Don’t go acting like I’ve lived some privileged life because it makes it easier for you. It would make it easier for everyone to, to, to write me off and throw me away—”

“Sharon,” Jinkx said softly, touching her arm.

“Don’t,” Sharon said to Jinkx as she shrugged off her hand. She looked at Daya again. “It would make it easier to throw me away if you didn’t have to think about me through the same lens you think about every other fucking person. Everyone else gets context and considerations and, and, and— So if I’m human with a fucked up life, well, that sure makes it a smidge harder to decide I’m in-incapable of growth and change, doesn’t it? Never mind that all of this shit I get to rehash every goddamn day is in the past. I’ll heal in hell, I suppose.”

“Having a fucked up life doesn’t mean you get to be a bad fucking person!” Daya yelled.

“Oh my God,” Sharon said. She rolled her eyes. “I need to smoke.”

She stood up, groaned, and flopped back onto the sofa.

“Are you… not going to smoke?” Jinkx asked slowly.

“I forgot I fucking quit!” Sharon said. “My boyfriend’s afraid it’ll kill me.”

“It will kill you,” Violet said from the other end of the sofa.

“I know!” Sharon shouted. “I fucking know!”

“I’m not sorry,” Daya said. “Like, I’m not. She needs to know what people think of her.”

Violet rolled her eyes and said, “That's so cool, Daya. Everyone’s so interested in you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Someone’s tryna get a hero edit as a villain,” Adore whispered to Peppermint.

Then, the screen flickered to life and the logo with the usual promise of a loved one message appeared. The logo faded away and up popped Alaska, out of drag and wearing a bright smile. Production had moved fast to switch the order of the video messages; after that fight, they knew they needed it to be Alaska.

“Surprise, Sharon! It’s me, Alaska, your girlfriend and your boyfriend!” Alaska threw her head back and laughed. “You know, I rewatched the last video I sent to see how I opened it, and ooh, boy, they shouldn’t have let that girl on television. How are you, baby? I hope you’re doing well. I miss you so much.”

At any other time, Sharon knew she wouldn’t have cried. She would have been all smiles. But right now? When she was itching for a smoke, tipsy from these cocktails, and fired up because of Daya? Sharon burst into tears. She put her hands over her face and just let the tears fall. Her makeup would be a mess when they went back out for the lip sync but she couldn’t care; she wasn’t in the bottom that week, so she wasn’t going to be lip syncing. When Alaska started talking again, she lowered her hands enough to see her.

“I’m having major deja vu,” Alaska drawled. She laughed. “We’ve just switched cats. Oh, and now you’re house-trained, so you throw away your own beer cans so I don’t even have those to miss littering the floor. Speaking of, are you playing nice with the other puppies at doggy daycare?”

“I thought I was,” Sharon said with a snort.

Obviously Alaska couldn’t hear her, but it felt good to answer her. Besides, it made the other queens—save for Daya—chuckle, too.

“I love how she talks,” IT Girl said.

Violet smirked. “Sentences ending in 3-5 business days.”

“I forgot how lonely this is,” Alaska admitted. “It’s been quiet around here. I keep going to tell you something, and, and you’re not here!” She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Stupid, I know, but I’ve done it, like, six times. It’s getting out of control.”

Sharon’s chest felt so incredibly tight. Selfishly, she hadn’t considered that Alaska would be having a hard time with her absence. This was an unexpected sting. Sharon cleared her throat and blinked several times to try to stop herself from crying. She had had multiple instances where she’d actually turned as if Alaska would be there; she wondered if the camera had caught any.

“But I think the universe heard me,” Alaska said with a big smile, “and realized I needed something.”

Alaska leaned to the side, and when she sat back up, she was holding a grey kitten with big brown eyes. She held the cat to her cheek. Sharon gasped and leaned forward as if she’d be any closer to Alaska and the kitten if she was closer to the screen

“This little one walked right up to the back door!” Alaska exclaimed. “That’s your favorite way to get a pet!”

“It is!” Sharon agreed brightly. She looked at Jinkx next to her. “That’s how I get all my cats: they break into my house.”

“Obviously,” Jinkx said.

“So I love her,” Alaska said, “and I hope you don’t mind that we have a kitten now. Wax loves her. He bathes her and cuddles with her and has showed her the best way to get in the front window to watch birds.”

The kitten nuzzled Alaska’s face. Sharon sighed; it was too sweet.

“Can we call her Dorothy?” Alaska asked. She turned the kitten to look in her face. “I think she looks like a Dorothy.”

“We can call her anything you’d like,” Sharon said with a watery laugh.

“Okay, well, hopefully, you’ll get to see this video when you need me most,” Alaska said. She laughed. “That was a trick; you always need me. Okay, baby, don’t make any bad jokes and try not to get into any fights. We’re waiting for you here in Pittsburgh, Transylvania. I love you, Sharon.”

Alaska blew a kiss to the camera and then the screen went black.

When Jinkx put her arm around her, Sharon leaned into her.

“She’s so hot,” IT Girl said. “Like we all know she’s hot in drag, but out of drag, too?”

That was what brought Sharon out of her feelings. She laughed and sat up so she could turn to look at IT Girl.

“You’re really out here trying to fuck my girlfriend?” Sharon teased.

“No, she’s trying to fuck your boyfriend,” Violet said. She held her hand out to Sharon to pull her up from the sofa. “You need to fix your face.”

“Why Dorothy?” IT Girl asked as she trailed Sharon and Violet to the mirrors.

“Knowing Alaska, I’d say for Dorothy Zbornak from Golden Girls,” Sharon said. “She loves her, and—”

She gasped at the sight of her face in the mirror which made Violet and IT Girl both laugh. She grimaced and sat down to try to salvage her makeup.

* * *

Alaska had pulled Sharon’s hand into her lap to hold between both of hers while she watched that scene. It was remarkably difficult to see Sharon cry on television despite the fact that she’d seen her cry in person countless times. It made Alaska deeply sad and uncomfortable. The unscratchable itch of grief.

“There was more,” Violet finally said to break the silence on stage. “But they didn’t show it, and that’s probably a good thing for Daya.”

“I think she’ll regret it one day,” Gottmik said. “I know her kinda well because she was the season after me and there was some overlapping stuff there.” She sighed. “I think she’ll regret how she handled all this.”

Sharon was quiet. She could hear Violet, Gottmik, and Anetra talking about Daya and the edit, but she didn’t really listen to the words. She wasn’t really there with them. She was thinking about what she had said to Daya and how she was glad everyone could hear her say it: how long do I need to be punished for my mistakes like I am not a human being capable of growth?

Alaska watched Sharon, watched her eyes lose focus and her posture slump slightly. She knew she was lost in thought—and she’d have to be truly stupid not to know it was over the scene, over what she had said, over what Daya represented. Alaska leaned over and kissed Sharon’s cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick mark there. She went to rub it off, but Sharon caught her hand.

“No, I’ll keep it,” Sharon murmured. The microphone she held in her lap picked it up faintly. It would become a fan edit later. “I want to go home after this.”

Alaska smiled sadly. “Home or the hotel?”

“Home,” Sharon whispered.

“We’ll go home,” Alaska promised.

* * *

“Sharon Needles… Condragulations, you are the winner of this challenge. You transformed your partner from new mom to hot, vampire goddess, and it was clear she was feeling herself. You have won five-thousand dollars for yourself… and an additional five-thousand dollars for your new mom courtesy of Gerber” Michelle Visage said. “You may leave the stage.”

* * *

“Did you win money for the first episode win, too?” Anetra asked.

Sharon nodded. “I got five-thousand as the team captain and the others on the team got twenty-five-hundred.”

“You’re cleaning up!”

“IT Girl is the only queen who has won a challenge who didn’t win the first episode,” Sharon said. “Isn’t that something?”

* * *

Soon, only Daya and Violet remained to lip sync for their lives. While Daya looked bitter even now, Violet looked determined. She had a straight face as she walked to her side of the stage.

In her confessional, Violet said, “I’ve never lip synced for my life before this season and now this is my second time. Uh, I’ve decided I hate it.”

“Prior to tonight, you prepared to lip sync to‘Feminine Energy’ by COBRAH,” Michelle said. “The time has come… to lip sync for your life!”

Violet rolled her head around her shoulders and then shook them out. Daya slid her leg out and nodded. They were ready. The music began and it was on.

“All boys into me. All girls wanna be. Fame and enemies. Vain economy. Genuine jealousy. Sharp stiletto heels.”

In her confessional, Sharon said, “Violet moves like she’s possessed by the music. This song might as well be coming out of her chest with how she’s embodying it.”

“It's the feminine energy. Feminine energy. Feminine energy. Feminine energy runs inside of me.”

The steady beat of the song was exactly what Violet worked well with in her usual shows. She was not a stunt queen, but she could dance and she used a well-placed split to heighten the dance. Daya, on the other hand, looked like she was in the mosh pit dancing at Violet’s show. She didn’t look bad, but no queen wanted to look like the fan while the other looked like the star.

When the song ended, there was no question who was going home.

“Violet Chachki,” Michelle said. “Shantay, you stay.”

“Thank you,” Violet murmured before exiting the stage.

“That means, Daya Betty, you will sashay away,” Michelle said.

Daya nodded and walked up the runway to stand between the two rows of queens to exit. She shrugged and then pointed at Peppermint.

“I’m rooting for you and you alone,” Daya said. “Villains, get fucked.”

As she exited, the camera panned across the villains to show them all smirking or laughing.

“It’s literally so embarrassing,” Violet whispered to Sharon.

Sharon took Violet’s hand and squeezed it.

* * *

“I forgot how much Sharon can hype someone up when she wants to,” Violet said. “That was so nice. You really think I embodied it?”

“I genuinely want you to add that song to your shows,” Sharon said. “That song is so you.”

Anetra signaled to Sharon. “I think some celebrating is in order!”

She paused to let the crowd cheer.

“Thank you, thank you,” Sharon said. She splayed her fingers over her cheek so her nail pressed into her upper lip.

Alaska gasped then and leaned in. “Did you do your lips while you were in L.A.?”

Violet smacked her the sofa between her and Gottmik and stomped her feet excitedly. The crowd laughed. They couldn’t decide what was funnier: Alaska’s outburst, Violet’s glee, or Sharon’s amusement.

“I did, baby,” Sharon said. “A little birdie with incredible feminine energy took me to her guy. Do you like them?”

“They look stunning!” Alaska said. “I need to see without the lipstick for the full effect, but with it, wow!”

She leaned in even closer which really gave Sharon no choice but to kiss her. The audience hooted and hollered as expected.

“Still want to go right home?” Alaska murmured.

“No,” Sharon said. “We can stay.” A beat. “But can you perform in my spot?”

Alaska’s eyes widened slightly. “No, I’ll do it with you though. You’ll feel better if you perform.”

“Okay.”

This time, Alaska stole the kiss and made the audience swoon.

Chapter Text

Episode 6 Synopsis: It’s everyone’s favorite… The Snatch Game! What antics will our queens up to this week? With only three heroes and four villains left, it’s shaping up to be a tight finish! On the runway this week, the queens showcase their pastel couture.

* * *

r/rupaulsdragrace: [SPOILERS] Did Sharon Needles just cheat?

**I am not here for your opinions on Sharon as a queen. That’s not this post. Please don’t make it this post.** I have a legit question. Did she just cheat in the makeover challenge by letting her partner finish sewing the garment? Isn’t the whole point that the queens are making the stuff? She got help and then she wins that challenge???

-No, I had the same question! Is that allowed?

-i think it has to be okay because we see her talking to somebody behind the camera and giving a thumbs-up. they showed us that probably so we wouldn’t ask this question.

-have partners helped sew or anything in previous seasons? I can’t remember now.

-I wonder if they let it slide because of her hand. It’s a disability thing, right?

-Willow Pill has a disability and she still had to sew with her numb fingers.

-How is this even a question? Queens have had other queens basically make their whole garment for them or heavily help. Trinity the Tuck is famous for helping every single queen construct something in these challenges! Without her in AS7, who knows what Jinkx would have walked down in the runway in. It’s obviously not against the rules.

-Riggory! I can’t wait to hear Bob and Monet talk about this.

-I hate that Willam and Alaska aren’t doing this season as it airs. I bet Alaska would be really entertain while explaining this away. Girl loves to excuse Miss Needles.

-Breaking news: boyfriend loves his boyfriend. More at 11.

-Yeah, why isn’t Alaska working herself to the bone by doing her own tour, traveling with Sharon for HvV, doing gigs with Sharon and other queens, AND then doing podcast eps with Willam on a different time zone sometimes, too? Doesn’t she know we need the content?

-yall need to calm down. let these men live.

* * *

Alaska had been right: Sharon did feel a bit better after performing. She should feel incredible though. She’d won the challenge and had her piece on her humanity and making mistakes aired without the editors’ hands making her sound foolish or tone deaf. She’d dropped into her mentions briefly and saw that people were mostly on her side—or at the very least considering what she’d said. She’d seen a few people discussing the idea of change, growth, and if someone should pay forever for words. What else could she ask for?

Yet watching herself get upset, listening to her voice crack as she went back at Daya, seeing herself cry at a video of Alaska? That left Sharon unmoored. Where was up and where was down? There was something wholly unsettling about seeing yourself emotional like that That was one of the strangest parts of reality TV for Sharon: seeing herself cry or get angry and knowing it’s her but feeling like it’s somebody else. Nobody talked about that phenomenon.

She had gone back to the green room to make decisions about the night while Anetra performed, but now Sharon only stood over her bag as if it might make the decision for her if she looked at it long enough. Alaska came up behind her to wrap her arms around her, and Sharon felt a bit more tethered now. Alaska hooked her chin over her shoulder and hummed softly. Her chest vibrated against Sharon’s back; it was soothing, familiar. It was always such a stark contrast when Alaska settled her nerves, like someone had turned off a television that had been buzzing with static.

“Still want to try to fly out tonight?” Alaska asked. “We might be able to make it work with some connections.”

“No,” Sharon said. “I don’t know why I said that before. That would be stupid. Besides, we have a great hotel room.”

“You’re gonna let me share it still?” Alaska murmured in her ear.

Sharon snorted. “You seriously doubt it?”

Alaska did. It would not have been out of the question for Sharon to keep her out of the hotel room as a final bit of punishment for New York—but maybe that wasn’t fair. Would the Sharon of today do that or would that have been a Sharon from yesteryear? Then again, would the Sharon of yesteryear even do that? It would be a great way to punish Alaska, but it would also punish Sharon herself.

“No,” Alaska lied. She kissed the shell of Sharon’s ear. “But I wanted to check.”

Sharon ran her hands up and down Alaska’s arms where they rested around her abdomen. She would have sooner fallen to pieces than cast Alaska away now. She’d apologized. She’d come to Las Vegas for her even though she wasn’t sure which Sharon would greet her. She’d propped her up in that performance.

“Of course we’re sharing the room; it’s our room,” Sharon said. She squeezed Alaska’s wrists and then stepped out of her arms to finally start putting her things together. “I’m pretty sure you paid for it this time anyway.”

“I probably did,” Alaska agreed. “You did the tickets for this one.”

“Did I? Good. Then I only burned my own money by booking a flight to L.A. and letting my flight to Vegas languish,” Sharon said. She held up her boy-clothes. “Are you going out in drag or…?”

“I refunded your flight,” Alaska said. “And I’m going in drag.”

“You refunded it?”

“Yeah, I’m thrilled they let me do it even though it was in your name. We’ve been buying up so many tickets together that they must have put the homophobia aside for a minute and let me cancel my ‘buddy’s’ ticket for him,” Alaska said. She paused. “Although, maybe they think we’re married; spouses probably do that all the time.”

Alaska might have still been talking about calling the airline, but Sharon had tuned her out as she had powered her phone back up. She now stared at her bank account where the refunded ticket showed. That was a thoughtful gesture to do in general without being asked, but to do it when they weren’t speaking? To consider Sharon’s finances and go out of her way to see about fixing a wrong that Sharon had created for herself? Maybe it wasn’t actually a big deal—sometimes Sharon couldn’t judge these things appropriately and she gave outsized meaning to small things and little praise to big things—but it meant a lot to her. Sharon huffed a laugh and looked at Alaska fondly.

(However, when everything wasn’t so delicate, she’d have to tease about it being like something an assistant might do, but there was no need to break open barely closed wounds now though. She had matured enough to know that Alaska would not find that joke funny now; it would slice her.)

“Thank you,” Sharon said softly.

“You didn’t notice that money go back in?” Alaska chuckled from her spot by the mirror where she was fluffing her lashes. “That’s a chunk of money.”

“I didn’t look,” Sharon admitted.

Alaska cocked her head to the side to look at Sharon in the mirror. “You’re an enigma.”

“My phone was off,” Sharon admitted. “I wasn’t ignoring you. Well, I was ignoring you, but it wasn’t that I saw messages coming in and didn’t answer. Phone off, no calls, texts, socials, anything.”

Alaska furrowed her brow but said nothing. She couldn’t really get on Sharon’s case about that coping strategy considering how many of her own were so similar. She’d done her fair share of running away, too, after all. She’d landed barbs meant to hurt past partners with the same exacting fashion as Sharon’s own cutting words or her cold shoulder. Alaska hadn’t been kidding when she’d admitted to putting some ‘really nice guys through some fucked up hell’ in her song.

“Are we going out?” Violet asked from the doorway. “Are you two good? It’s quiet in here and I’m so over it.”

Sharon looked at Alaska.

“We’re good,” Alaska said with a nod.

“We’re going out,” Sharon added. “We’re going in drag, so don’t change.”

“Perfect!” Violet said. She clapped her hands together. “But Sharon?”

Sharon raised her eyebrows.

“Take off the jacket. It’s cutting you off at the ribs and that’s a shame when you corseted for that waist, mama.”

“Bitch! You tell me now?” Sharon cried. “You let me sit through a whole viewing party and then perform like this?”

She ran across the dressing room with her arms outstretched as if she might grab Violet, but Violet ducked out with a shriek. Sharon went after her, leaving Alaska alone in the dressing room. She could hear their heels clicking around the backstage and the mixture of laughter and screaming; they were happy sounds, no doubt about it, and they made Alaska smile. This was one of her favorite parts of all this Drag Race mess: the community. For all the planes, trains, and automobiles, for all the sleepless nights, for all the bad food, for all the mental exhaustion, it was worth it for this part.

Alaska picked up her bag and Sharon’s and walked out of the dressing room towards the noise. She now heard Gottmik’s excited chattering. Rarely did Alaska feel like the elder stateswoman of a group, but right now, she did. That was all right. She’d hit Violet’s weed pen—as payment for not telling Sharon to fix her fit sooner—and lose herself in the music at the club. She’d dance and let all her anxiety bleed out of her. They were okay.

“There you are,” Sharon said as she seemed, to Alaska’s eyes, to spawn from the darkness of the backstage. “Here, let me.” She took both bags and swung them over her shoulders. “Let’s drop these at the hotel first.”

“You looked good,” Alaska promised her as they walked out of the now-empty theatre. “I promise. Violet’s just being Violet.”

“Thank you, baby,” Sharon said. “Still, I think I’ll leave the jacket at the hotel.”

Alaska grinned. “Maybe she’d like to tell me what I could fix now.”

“That’s not a question for the faint of heart,” Sharon teased.

* * *

The Pepper Club was the perfect spot in the arts district of Las Vegas to grab brunch after a late night out. It was what you would expect with modern, clean lines, dark grey stone, and light wood. The hanging plants around the chandeliers and purple climbing ivy, however, gave warmth to the space. The real draw, however, was the cheap prices for very good food. It had the expected fare—waffles, French toast, breakfast meats, omelets—with a gourmet twist, but it was the raw bar that really enticed people. Of course, they were mostly a vegetarian-vegan table, so they weren’t nearly as impressed with that part of the spread, but it made the space more luxe—and Violet gladly helped herself to it.

Although, really, brunch lasting until three o’clock in the afternoon had been the real draw for them.

Alaska swayed with the music as she chewed her breakfast. Gottmik was telling a story about the prior night’s escapades that had put her outside the city in the nearby suburb of Henderson—and Alaska really couldn’t believe nobody had put tracking devices on Violet and Gottmik yet.

“This is so scary,” Alaska drawled. “What if you got kidnapped? Do you share your location? Because if not, you two definitely should.”

“No, yeah, we do,” Gottmik said. “We started really, really late with that though, so there were, like, a million times where Violet left me.”

“Okay, calm down,” Violet said. “You were always in a party talking to guys. You were always fine. You act like I left you on the side of the freeway.”

“I literally would excuse myself from conversations to go put eyes on Violet and then go back to whoever I was with,” Gottmik said,” because if I didn’t, she would disappear and I’d be alone.”

“Violet’s very good at disappearing,” Sharon said.

“Here we go,” Violet said under her breath.

“No, no, we’re not going to rehash it,” she said, “but we all know.”

Gottmik mimed putting on a crown and laughed. She returned to her story, and Alaska and Sharon listened with the correct amounts of horror and amusement. They had been young once. They had gotten lost on nights out once. They had done it all once, too. Yet hearing it now, it was scary to think about Gottmik getting into cars with random men and disappearing into the desert. Both Sharon and Alaska, unbeknownst to each other, of course, were thinking the same thing: that this was proof that they were officially old now.

“Okay, so I’m going to Paris after the season finishes airing, right?” Violet said.

Sharon raised her eyebrows. “What for? Business or pleasure?”

“Both,” Violet said with a wiggle of her brows. She signaled to Gottmik. “We were invited to see Schiaparelli, Mugler, Cavalli, and Rick Owens.”

“It’s so major,” Gottmik gushed. “I literally never get tired of it.”

Sharon loved clothes. She really did. Clothes brought her such joy. Playing with vintage T-shirts, finding a strange cut of pant, making mistakes in creating and owning them in the final product, mixing and matching—she really did enjoy it. She even enjoyed walking in shows! That had been fun, too, once upon a time when she was the right vibe, body, face. But to sit through hours and hours of shows like Violet did? Sharon wasn’t so sure she’d make it.

“Are you walking?” Alaska asked.

“Fame is,” Violet said, “and I, well, I’m in negotiations.”

“That’s going to be so good,” Alaska said. “I love watching you walk.”

“And I love that you watch me walk,” Violet quipped.

“What I’d really like is more shots of you and Fame together,” Alaska said. “Stunning. Just stun-ning.”

“Fame is another level,” Sharon said. She took a strawberry from Alaska’s plate. “I mean, you two are, too, but it’s different. Dark, moody, vampiric, you know? Fame’s not that.”

“No,” Violet agreed. “She’s with us in fashion, but she’s not our type. I know what you mean. Not offensive.”

“I wasn’t worried about being offensive,” Sharon said.

Gottmik laughed. “I wish you would be sometimes!”

Sharon rolled her eyes. Alaska laughed, too, and leaned in to spear a piece of Sharon’s French toast. She hummed in approval and nodded at Sharon. Good choice. Sharon wrinkled her nose at Alaska. I know.

“Mm, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Sharon said. She sipped her coffee. “Does Fame cheat on her husband?”

Violet nearly choked on her water and had to turn away from the table to cough. Gottmik and Alaska both stared at Sharon, open-mouthed.

“What planet do you come from?” Alaska asked. She was laughing now. “This isn’t a rhetorical question. I hope this email finds you well. Please get back to me at your earliest convenience.”

“Where did that come from?” Gottmik asked.

Sharon held up her hands in surrender. “I don’t think that’s such a crazy question considering her social media likes and following.”

“You follow Fame to see all that?” Alaska asked.

“No, but I’ve seen compilations,” Sharon said. “The girl’s horny as hell.”

“Being horny on main doesn’t mean you’re cheating on your husband,” Gottmik said. “Is liking posts cheating?”

“No,” Alaska said with a snort. “Now show me the posts.”

“She needs to like them, too, for later,” Violet said with a big grin now that she had stopped coughing. “No, she doesn’t cheat on her husband. Good Lord, Sharon.”

Sharon tapped away at her her phone while she said, “It was just a question. How was I supposed to ask? What would have been more palatable?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Alaska said. “‘Is she in an open marriage?’ That would have been normal.”

Sharon handed Alaska her phone so she could scroll through the compilation of Fame likes that people had compiled. Alaska laughed and wiggled back and forth with glee. Some were quite raunchy while others were just straight-up pornography. She turned the phone around to show a post where a man with a good ass posed in a swimsuit. Beneath the photo was a crude drawing of a stick figure pushing its face in between cartoon asscheeks.

“I can’t,” Alaska said. “This is so funny.”

Sharon leaned against Alaska’s shoulder to watch her scroll through the screenshots. When Alaska got to the end, she handed the phone to Violet so she and Gottmik could look, too.

“So liking posts isn’t cheating,” Gottmik said. “What’s cheating? Is sexting cheating? Dancing? Kissing?”

Alaska busied herself with her meal. She was suddenly very interested in her omelet and not nearly as interested in the topic at hand. She didn’t like to talk about infidelity around Sharon. There was too much there for them, too much that they hadn’t talked about enough, too much that she imagined they’d never talk about.

“Kissing is cheating,” Sharon said. But then she sat back and her face twisted in thought. “Well, no, it’s not always though.”

“See!” Gottmik said. “It’s not cut and dry.”

“When is kissing not cheating?” Violet asked.

“When Detox kisses you hello,” Sharon said. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen that person tongue a friend? Or not even a friend! She’s kissed strangers in greeting!”

“When you kiss someone on stage,” Gottmik said. “Hello, isn’t there an unlisted video somewhere of Katya’s tongue in your ass on stage, Violet? Was that true love or just playing around?”

Violet shrugged a shoulder and smirked. “There might be such a video.”

“Oh, there’s more than just that of those two,” Sharon said, pitching her voice down low. “God forbid either of them need the money one day…”

“No more of this!” Violet said. She threw a grape at Sharon. “So kissing’s not cheating.”

“Kissing isn’t always cheating,” Gottmik agreed. “But like if you kiss a guy in the club? I think that’s cheating.”

“Sexting is cheating,” Sharon said. “That’s definitely always cheating.”

“Yeah, true,” Gottmik said. “Cause there’s no way around that one. Like, you don’t just sext your friends or something—and even if you get, like, raunchy in a joking way with friends, you know the difference.”

“Is it worse to cheat with a stranger or someone you know?” Violet pondered.

“Someone you know,” Sharon said without hesitation. “That’s much worse.”

Alaska said nothing as she reached for her water. She sipped it slowly, afraid she might inhale it if she went much faster, and then made a conscious effort to put the glass down slowly. Her cheating on Sharon with the guy in Florida had been bad, but it had been her cheating on her with a mutual friend in their own bed that had made Sharon go nuclear. It wasn’t like Sharon’s hands were clean in this either; she had cheated on Alaska with strangers. Was that easier? Alaska wasn’t sure, and she didn’t have the basis for comparison. Although, she was forced to interact with Chad for years, and he had been the one Sharon had left Alaska for. That wasn’t the same thing, but it was certainly in the same family. Having to essentially befriend the man your partner fell in love with while dating you? It was complex, very complex.

“Dancing is like kissing,” Gottmik continued, oblivious to the tension across the table. “It all depends on the intention. Like, Sharon danced with plenty of people the other night, but that was just for fun.”

Alaska rolled her head to the side to look at Sharon. Somehow it was possible for her heart to sink lower in this conversation. She was pretty sure it had fallen out of her body and now was just a bleeding mess on the floor. She licked her lips and cleared her throat.

“Did she now?” Alaska said neutrally.

Under the table, Violet kicked Gottmik.

“Just dancing,” Sharon said firmly. “Only dancing while these two spectated from the VIP.”

Alaska nodded slowly. Everything was slow right now, like any speed would light the match and they’d all go up in flames. Sharon met her eyes and kept her gaze which should be a sign of innocence. But it wasn’t. Alaska had not been aware of all the cheating Sharon had done on her during their relationship; Sharon had been able to keep her in the dark easily. Was this the same thing?

“Sorry,” Gottmik said quietly. She looked from Alaska to Sharon and then to Violet. “I… I didn’t think that was a thing. It was only dancing. That’s why I brought it up. Nothing else.”

Alaska kept staring at Sharon, really looking at her for some sort of sign. There was nothing there, nothing that screamed guilt or lying. Just Sharon looking at her.

“It’s not a thing,” Alaska said after a moment. She finally looked at Gottmik. “It’s just like you guys said about kissing: it’s the context.”

Under the table, on the seat of the booth, Sharon laid her hand palm up. An offering. A question. For a moment, it went unanswered. But then Alaska put her hand in Sharon’s and squeezed. I believe you. Sharon squeezed her hand back.

* * *

Episode 6 Sneak Preview: Left on the Werk Room Floor:

Sharon sat up on her table with a lavender wig in front of her. She was surrounded by combs, clips, brushes, gel, and paper towels. She was not a wig stylist, but she was determined and oddly zen about these types of issues—something Detox had relearned about Sharon on the Anniversary Tour.

“What does she want done to it?” IT Girl asked as she hopped up on one of the stools at Sharon’s table.

“She wants…” Sharon trailed off. She took the clip out from between her lips to speak. “She wants that wet look and blown all the way forward, like she’s caught in the rain or something.”

“And you can do that?” IT Girl asked.

“Baby girl, I can try,” Sharon said with a laugh.

“Why are you helping her?”

“We traded. She doesn’t have patience for this and doesn’t like the mess. I don’t have the dexterity for the repair to my jacket. It’s all even in the end.”

Sharon added another glob of gel to the wig and pulled it forward. She used long silver clips to hold the pieces in place. She turned the bust towards IT Girl for her to watch her do the next one.

“You may look spooky, but you’re actually nice,” IT Girl mimicked quietly in a pretty good Sharon impression.

“What’s that, doll?” Sharon asked absently.

“Nothing,” IT Girl said.

“Detox,” Sharon called. “Do you want the back going forward or up?”

“Whatever looks better,” Detox called back. A beat. “What’s IT Girl doing there?”

“Spectating,” Sharon said.

“Don’t sabotage me!” Detox cried. She pointed at them both.

Sharon gave IT Girl a wry look “It’s hard doing a show with friends. Eventually, you need to go against them, and that’s the game, but… but I don’t know. I don’t know where I was going there.”

“Can’t relate,” IT Girl said. “I don’t have any friends here.”

“I’m your friend,” Sharon said. She pulled one of the locks from the back of the wig straight up and smiled. “Oh, yeah, that’s good. Detox, bitch, you owe me.”

“Do you take PayPal?” Detox asked sweetly.

Sharon cackled. “You can use Alaska’s.”

IT Girl stared up at Sharon with a little smile on her face.

“What?” Sharon asked.

“Nothing,” IT Girl said. “I’m gonna go get some food. You want something?”

“Would you grab me whatever shitty vegetarian meal they’re going to throw at me this time?” Sharon asked. “Thanks, baby girl.”

In her confessional, Sharon listened as the producer said, “What do you think of IT Girl?”

Sharon smiled and said, “Oh, she’s great. I have no idea why she’s here though. Well, no, I know why she’s back. She’s clearly talented. I just don’t know why she’s a villain. I have to go watch her season.” She shrugged. “But I like her a lot. She’s fun. I like some of these new queens. The ones who aren’t so obsessed with being polished and perfect. That’s good drag. They’re bringing good drag back.”

* * *

Alaska sat on the living room floor with her laptop open to a Zoom call with Jeremy and a two notebooks spread out on the floor. They were finalizing the Valentine’s Day mini-tour. It was a favorite, and such an easy one for them, so it never really felt like work to plan. This year, they were staying in the northeast: New Jersey, Massachusetts, and New York. Alaska knew an important episode of Heroes vs Villains would be falling during the mini-tour and she wanted to be readily available.

“I think we need to end with that one,” Jeremy said. “That’s going to be a big crowd moment, so you should get it at the end.”

“Not with the audience medley?” Alaska asked.

Jeremy hummed. “Well, we could… but going out on that big show-stopper seems like it would really work better.”

Dorothy walked across the keyboard and Alaska cursed quietly. She picked the cat up and set her behind her. That didn’t really work; Dorothy simply walked back around Alaska to lay out on her notebook.

“Sorry, cat problems,” Alaska said. “Uh, okay, yeah, no, I hear that. So we’ll do that one last. Maybe after a medley?”

“That can work,” Jeremy agreed. “Did you already talk to them about joining you?”

“All three said yes,” Alaska said. “Which is so great.”

“And Sharon’s really not doing a number?” Jeremy asked. “I’m just trying to make sure my timing’s right.”

“No,” Alaska said. “Sharon doesn’t want to. She said this is mine.”

Jeremy nodded. “Okay, and did you run the idea for the video past her? I wouldn’t spring that on her.”

“No, I haven’t yet,” Alaska said. She shivered and shook her head. “But no, not springing it on her. I just want to put the final touches on it to show it to her rather than explain it, you know?”

“Talk to her today. We need to fill that spot if she’s not into it,” Jeremy said. “Well, actually, I mean, you’re going to do that song even without the video, right?”

“Probably, but it’ll really kill it if she’s not into it,” Alaska said. “I don’t think she’ll mind. There’s one part I don’t know about, but otherwise, she’ll love the rest of it, I’m sure.”

“Which?”

“The clip from the Anniversary Tour.”

“Right, right. I… I still can’t believe you want to put that in,” Jeremy admitted. “That feels like asking for trouble, Justin, when the rest is really cute and fun.”

“I’ll let you know,” Alaska said.

They switched gears to the more technical details: flights, hotels, cars, venues. Then they chatted a bit longer about someone Jeremy was seeing before hanging up. Sharon had gone grocery shopping to give Alaska space to talk with Jeremy and practice, and Alaska intended to use it to the fullest. She opened up the video was had made to accompany her closing number to finish it up. While she edited, she sang through their finalized songs.

When she heard the key in the door, Alaska put her laptop on the coffee table and got up to get the door. Sharon stood with several bags of groceries. Briefly, she looked surprised, but then she smiled and handed Alaska a bag.

“I was fighting for my life out there,” Sharon said. “I forgot they’re calling for snow. Everyone’s out there acting like they’ve never heard of it and they might just need seven cartons of eggs about it.”

“It’s not even the first snow of the season!” Alaska said. “Did you get everything?”

“Every except, uh…” Sharon trailed off. “Oh, the raspberry preserves of all things. I guess everyone needs that when they’re getting snowed in.”

“Eggs, milk, bread, raspberry preserves are the classic staples of snow-is-coming shopping,” Alaska agreed.

They took the bags into the kitchen and began the familiar dance of putting away the groceries. They moved around each other, and the circling cats, with practiced ease. Sharon knew just when to step backward. Alaska knew just when to move to the side. They were experts at this mundane choreography—and though it be mundane, it made Alaska’s heart flutter. The romance of daily life with a partner was not lost on Alaska.

“Come here,” she said.

Sharon held up a finger and finished putting the yogurt away on the door of the fridge. Then she went to where Alaska stood with open arms. She leaned against her and closed her eyes.

“We’re almost done with the season,” Sharon murmured against Alaska’s neck.

“You’re ready for it to be over?” Alaska asked. “I’m shocked.”

Sharon shook her head. “I feel like we’ve been tense.”

“So is now a good time to possibly add to that?” Alaska asked with a nervous chuckle.

Sharon pulled back to look at her and snorted. She nodded and returned to the fridge to grab a beer. Alaska walked back into the living room and sat on the sofa. When Sharon joined her, she put her laptop on her lap and hit play on the PowerPoint. The song started playing and the slides shuffled through.

Sharon barked a laugh at the first reveal. “That’s good.”

Then there was the next and she rubbed Alaska’s thigh. The rest of the slides were pretty expected now that she understood the premise, but that didn’t change the fact that they were sweet to look at. She was surprised by some of the photos Alaska had chosen; some had to be from fans. Then Alaska leaned over and paused the slides.

“So this next part,” she said. She clicked her tongue. “This next part is questionable, and that’s why I want you to tell me if it’s too far. If it is, it’s out. No problem.”

“You’re scaring me,” Sharon said.

Alaska hit play. The clip was from a fan video of Sharon at the Anniversary Tour. Although there was no sound from the original video, it showed her on stage silently belting out ‘Konstantine’ while the blood packets in her hair poured down her face and onto her white fur coat. While this clip rolled, the song for the Valentine’s show played: unless you're dying to cry your heart out. Alaska paused it.

“Is that okay?” Alaska asked.

Sharon stared at the still frame of herself, standing there with her arms outstretched and fake blood all over her face, neck, and chest. She was fascinated by that number even though she never mentioned it to Alaska. Watching herself perform that was an out of body experience much like watching herself on Drag Race. The difference was she liked how it felt to watch that number. That number felt like an emotional release while watching that last episode of Drag Race felt like emotional stagnation.

“Yes, that’s okay,” Sharon said after a moment.

“You’re sure?” Alaska asked.

“I just told you it’s fine,” Sharon said. Her words were clipped. “You think I can’t make that decision?”

“I think you might say it’s fine when you don’t mean it,” Alaska retorted, “and then it’ll be a fight later.”

“I think I’ve never stopped you from talking about that night,” Sharon said. “Only you have the desire to curate how we talk about that night. I’ve never stopped you from spinning it however you want. You might notice that I don’t really talk about it at all; you do. The one time I do it though…” She sighed and shook her head. “It’s fine. Use the clip.”

Before Alaska could speak, Sharon hit play and let the rest of the slides play out with the song. She snorted at the ending video and nodded. It was a good number. Fans would love it and she could imagine how Alaska would play it. That would be a real winner. Sharon even liked it, too. It was funny, self-deprecating, campy. She didn’t mind playing a starring role of sorts, and it was a positive one, overall.

“This is going to land really well,” Sharon said.

“And you’re sure—” Alaska began.

“If you ask me that one more time,” Sharon interrupted, “I will lose my mind. I am sure. It is fine. Use the clip. Do it how it is. It’s fine.”

Sharon took a long sip of her beer and relaxed back into the sofa. She watched Alaska openly, watched her working through how she felt about the clip and Sharon’s reaction. Sharon couldn’t know, of course, that that was actually what Alaska was thinking about, but she thought she knew her well enough by now to guess with pretty decent accuracy.

“Can I ask you something?” Alaska asked.

Her tone told Sharon that it was not going to be an easy question. She took another sip of her drink for a little liquid courage. She nodded and told herself over and over that she was not going to let anything turn into a fight. They would not fight. They would not fight. They would not fight. This was going to be a good night after all this. They were home without gigs and with a house full of food, cats, and movies. It was going to start snowing. They were going to have a little at-home date night. They would not fight.

“On the tour,” Alaska said slowly.

Oh, here we go.

“You said that it—ah, that my doing that to you was your nightmare, that that was the worst night of your life,” Alaska said softly. “And we talked about that, and I apologized, but I never… well, I guess I’m not asking you anything; I’m saying something to you.”

“You’re not really doing that either,” Sharon said lightly. “You’re talking a lot, but you’re not saying anything.”

Alaska smiled despite herself and added to the lyrics: “When I have nothing to say, my lips are sealed.”

“Say something once. Why say it again?” Sharon finished.

Alaska pulled her legs up onto the sofa to crawl across it and sit in Sharon’s lap facing her. She rested her hands on her shoulders. She said, “I watched that whole video. I’d never watched it after seeing it live.”

Sharon nodded. She rubbed Alaska’s hips, down her thighs. She was in a pair of Sharon’s sweatpants; Sharon hadn’t noticed until now. That did embarrassingly stupid things to her heart. How juvenile, how primitive, to feel that burst of possessiveness and love over something so simple, especially right now during this talk.

“You were really feeling it,” Alaska continued. “That was… That wasn’t like any of your other performances, well, ever.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Sharon murmured. When Alaska didn’t speak, she cleared her throat. “I guess I just had a lot to say about us and no real way to do it. It’s like I said on tour: it was about you, about us, and I just needed to get it all out.”

“You said you had nightmares about that night,” Alaska said.

“You already said that and we already talked about it,” Sharon said quickly. Say something once. Why say it again?

“Have you had them recently?” Alaska asked.

Sharon shook her head. “No. It’s been a really long time.”

“Now that I watched it again,” Alaska said quietly, “I think I can see it how you meant it to be seen. I can see that it’s about you and your head and your heart, not about me.”

“Well, about you,” Sharon said. “Definitely about you.”

“But about me… as I am to you? Does that make sense?” Alaska asked.

“It was my way of thinking about how fucked up we were,” Sharon said, “and how I had really been terrible to you, but that you had also been pretty terrible to me in a different way.”

Alaska rubbed the junctions where Sharon’s neck met her shoulders.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking about that first time we tried this because I can’t let that happen again,” Sharon said. “I’ve thought about how I talked to you and, and how you tip-toed around me. I’ve thought about, you know, the shit I did.” She laughed humorlessly. “But I’ve thought about your jealousy and your actions, too, and what you said or didn’t say.”

“Yeah,” Alaska murmured.

“That number was catharsis,” Sharon said, “and if you want to put that clip in your video, do it. It made you cry and that’s what the song says, right? ‘Cry your heart out’ or whatever?”

Alaska nodded and leaned forward to press their foreheads together. She closed her eyes and focused on matching her breathing to Sharon’s. Her own felt shallow, out of pace, but Sharon’s seemed steady. She needed that.

“I don’t know if this makes you feel better though,” Sharon whispered. “What are you thinking about?”

“I don’t even know,” Alaska said. She sighed. “I don’t even know what I was hoping to get from this. I just wanted to make sure it was okay to use the clip.”

In this moment, Sharon could feel it all slipping away. It was a moment of clarity she hadn’t been able to have the first time, but she imagined there would have been a moment back then, too, where she would have known it was going south. Drugs, alcohol, and newfound fame had left her in a constant haze. That haze had meant she’d seen breakups looming in all the wrong moments and not in the right one.

Not anymore. No, now she was clear-eyed most of the time, and that left her able to see this for what it was: their demise. Backstage in New York. Sharon’s running. The dancing with other men. The smoking. The breakfast tension. This tension now. It was all over. The writing was on the wall in big, bright spray paint, and Sharon could see it clear as day.

“You okay?” Alaska asked. Her voice sounded strained. “Baby, you’re gonna leave bruises.”

Sharon furrowed her brow and opened her eyes. She looked down at where she gripped Alaska’s hips. She hissed and stopped squeezing her. Instead, she rubbed her skin where she’d been holding her so tightly. Just another thing to add to the list!

“Did I hurt you?” Sharon asked.

“I’m okay,” Alaska promised. “Where did you go?”

Sharon shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Alaska didn’t looked convinced, but she was quiet. She didn’t want to push it.

“Here, I’m going to make dinner. Come talk to me,” Sharon said. “I really was serious about wanting to take a vacation. I got that Drag Race money coming to me.” She stuck out her tongue as she smiled. “Where should we go?”

Alaska squealed and clapped her hands together as she got up from Sharon’s lap and grabbed her laptop. They walked into the kitchen and Alaska sat at the island, a new addition they’d put in a few months ago that had really made their kitchen feel more inviting, while Sharon started prepping to cook.

“Well, the question is,” Alaska said, “do we want a beach or do we want, like, Europe?”

“They are not mutually exclusive,” Sharon reminded her. “Greece, Spain, Italy, the south of France.”

Alaska opened her laptop to begin the search. “I mean, Greece looks amazing, baby.”

“Tell me more,” Sharon said.

Sharon put the water on the stove to boil and went to grab the cutting board and a knife. Alaska was reading aloud about Athens, the beaches, Mount Olympus, Santorini. Sharon half-listened as she chopped vegetables. Her mind was in the cliffside of Greece with Alaska, but it was also in the impending doom that awaited them. She just hoped that she could run faster than it, that she could get a little more time in paradise before she was banished to the depths again.

“Okay, now tell me about Italy,” Sharon said.

“Ooh, all right,” Alaska said. “Let me just…”

* * *

Sharon smoothed down the beads on Alaska’s pink cocktail dress with far too much intensity. She just could not figure out why they wouldn’t hang correctly! Every time she got one of the columns to hang just right, another twisted the wrong way! Sharon had to step away from it, so she went to the red dress instead. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline that, when on Alaska, really made a perfect heart at her chest. Sharon pulled the steamer over to banish the wrinkles.

“I love this one,” Sharon said.

“Really?” Alaska asked from across the room where she was putting the final touches on her face. “I thought you’d like the, uh, the pink one with that headpiece more.”

“Well, I do love that headpiece,” Sharon agreed. “But this one? The big bow right above your ass with that low back? Such a classic silhouette.”

“You just like my ass,” Alaska said absently.

“You’re not wrong, baby,” Sharon said.

Jeremy popped their head in then to say, “The dolls are here!”

And that was all the warning they got before Luxx Noir London, Jan Sport, and Marcia Marcia Marcia descended upon the dressing room. They were all painted already, but they carried garment bags with their outfits for the night. Alaska clapped her hands together and squealed excitedly before getting up to hug them hello. Sharon appreciated this side of Alaska because, oh, she did not want to play this role; she did not want to be the enthusiastic greeter, the welcomer. Alaska had always played nice for them both—or at one point, back in the pre-Drag Race days when they ran with a whole drag family, for them all.

“I’m so glad you could help me out,” Alaska said. “This is going to be great.”

“So great,” Jan echoed.

Luxx walked over to Sharon and the garment rack of Alaska’s outfits. She patted Sharon’s back as she stepped around her to look at the pink beaded one. She started to straighten the lines of beads.

“Please, if you can,” Sharon said. “I’ve been trying and getting so pissed.”

“This is so hot though,” Luxx said. “Like it’s sickening. The way it’s gonna go in at her waist? I can’t.”

Sharon knelt to get the headpiece out of the bag: a pink metallic halo with hearts and pink stones intermixed. Luxx gasped and took it to hold above the cocktail dress. Sharon nodded when Luxx looked at her.

“It’s so good,” Luxx said. “Is this for the group number? It better be.”

“Yes, it is,” Sharon said. “It fits that song.”

“It for sure does,” Luxx said. “Marcia, come look.”

Marcia came at Luxx’s call and groaned. “Oh, it’s gorgeous. Alaska, Alaska.”

“I know,” Alaska said meaningfully. “Marcia, have you met Sharon?”

“I don’t think so,” Marcia said. She held out her hand. “Hi.”

Sharon shook her hand and nodded in greeting.

“Alaska, I think you want me to try this on after the show,” Luxx said of the pink dress.

“Oh, that’s so interesting of me,” Alaska said. She’d gone back to her seat to finish her lips. “If that’s what I want, I guess that’s what will happen.”

Marcia took the hanger and held it up in front of Luxx. She widened her eyes slightly and smiled until her nose wrinkled. She was so sweet-looking that Sharon couldn’t believe that this was the same girl everyone got up in arms about for her makeup back on her season. It looked lovely to Sharon. Sure, it wasn’t draggy, but these days, did it have to be? The little twink had a cherubic face; let her enjoy it now while it lasts. Twink death hit hard.

“Sharon? Can you help me get into the gown?”

“Yes,” Sharon said. She turned off the steamer. “This was a good purchase.”

“The travel steamer?” Alaska asked. “I know!”

Alaska stood in only her tights and pads with her dark hair slicked back, wig-ready. Sharon always liked this part of Alaska’s getting ready: the full gender fuckery. She brought the dress over and offered her hand to help Alaska step into the dress. She eased it up over her pads carefully and then pulled the short zipper under the bow. There was a single gold chain that hooked around the back to keep it in place. Sharon kissed Alaska’s shoulder and then gave her ass a smack.

“Oh, buy a girl dinner first,” Alaska teased with a shoulder shimmy.

Luxx had filmed it all while Marcia watched it unfold through Luxx’s phone screen. She posted it on her stories with ‘ok maybe i understand how they had a song about kaikai-ing now. everything’s so sensual!’ Marcia laughed softly.

“The stans are gonna love this,” Marcia said.

“I wish Sharon was in drag for it though.” Luxx sighed.

“No, it’s better,” Marcia said. “Now they’re a straight couple.

Luxx and Marcia laughed together and then turned away to get dressed.

* * *

The show was perfect. There was no other way to describe it. Not one thing went wrong. Not one moment fell flat. Not one note was missed by Jeremy or Alaska. Sharon stood in the wings watching Alaska light up the stage. When Alaska had asked her to do a number in the show, she had considered it briefly, but then she heard the echoes of their fight, of Alaska’s wanting to be the lead not the assistant, and Sharon had known better. She really didn’t get enough credit for knowing better and doing better, she thought. Now as she watched Alaska sashay across the stage while singing the audience’s suggested songs, Sharon knew she’d made the right choice. She had been able to enjoy this show, this very Alaska show, without thinking about her own number. There was peace in that.

When Alaska finished the medley, the stage went dark. When the lights flickered back to life a moment later, Alaska was gone and Jeremy was playing soft, romantic music as hearts and cupids floated across the screen above the stage. Jeremy began to dramatically recite a sonnet.

And where was Alaska? Alaska was in the wings with Sharon getting into her pink cocktail dress. Sharon undid the chain, pulled the zipper, and offered her hand once more to help Alaska with the gown. Alaska toed off her red pumps and pulled the cocktail dress up. Sharon buttoned the halter neck and then crouched to get her into the metallic pink heels. When she stood back up, it was to carefully place the headpiece in Alaska’s wig.

“Hey,” Alaska whispered. When Sharon met her eyes, Alaska kissed her very lightly so as not to ruin her lipstick. “Thank you.”

“Maybe I don’t mind being the assistant,” Sharon whispered back.

It was a risky joke to make so soon, but it paid off because Alaska beamed at her and squeezed her hand before strutting back onto the stage.

“We have one more number for you,” Alaska drawled breathily into the microphone. “It’s an important one. One I’ve been meaning to get across to you all for a while now. Are you ready?”

The audience cheered.

“Then welcome some of my dear friends who have agreed to help me with this critical, crucial, important number,” Alaska cried. “Jan Sport, Marcia Marcia Marcia, and your reigning All-Star Luxx Noir London!”

The audience screamed and clapped as the three queens came out in a whirlwind of pink and red sparkles. They lined up by the piano and Jeremy grinned at them. He wiggled his brows at them, and Luxx stuck her tongue out playfully.

Alaska looked back at Jeremy and nodded. They started to play opening notes of the song ‘I Won’t Say I’m in Love’ from Hercules

“If there's a prize for rotten judgement, I guess I've already won that,” Alaska sang.

She pointed up as the screen showed six images: Alaska crying on the sofa at Jinkx’s winning; a generic photo of cocaine; a picture of Detox with the PayPal logo; the Reddit logo and the broken heart emoji; Alaska and Katya sitting on the sofa in All-Stars 2; a generic photo of an alcohol bottle

“No man is worth the aggravation,” Alaska continued.

The six photos disappeared and were replaced with a photo of a young Sharon out of drag smoldering at the camera. This had the audience gasping and screaming.

“That’s ancient history! Been there.” Alaska used both hands to point up at the screen. “Done that!”

She thrusted her hips twice on ‘done that’ which made the audience scream.

Back by the piano, the other queens began singing The Fates’ lyrics: “Who'd'ya think you're kiddin’. He’s the Earth and heaven to you. Try to keep it hidden. Honey, we can see right through you. Girl, ya can't conceal it. We know how ya feel and who you're thinking of!”

“Ohhh noooo!” Alaska belted. “Oooo-ooh! No chance, no way! I won’t say it, no no.”

As they sang, photos of Sharon and Alaska together passed by on the screen. They spanned the years: Sharon and Alaska at the Season 5 premiere; Alaska with her arms wrapped around Sharon from behind; a clip of them walking the carpet for Heroes vs Villains; a candid of them outside the bus on the Anniversary Tour where they were staring at each other far too intensely; Alaska’s holding Sharon’s mangled hands outside the ambulance; Sharon’s beaming at Alaska’s back as she performed at one of the Holy Trannity shows; a selfie they took recently at a show in Pittsburgh with Sharon’s kissing Alaska’s cheek; a photo of Alaska dressed up as Sharon in the black-and-white wig while fake-strangling Sharon dressed up as Jeffree Star.

“You swoon, you sigh. Why deny it, uh-oh,” the girls sang.

“It’s too cliche,” Alaska sang. “I won’t say I’m in love.”

On the screen, a screenshot of her texts to Sharon appeared where she had written love you, be safe! The audience screamed and Alaska looked up, but it disappeared. She shrugged comically and turned back to them.

“I thought my heart had learned its lesson. It feels so good when you start out.” Alaska clutched her chest. “My head is screaming, ‘Get a grip, girl! Unless you're dying to cry your heart out!’”

The screen switched to the clip of Sharon’s ‘Konstantine’ performance that made the crowd murmur and gasp. But then it moved along to follow the same pattern: cute photos of them from throughout the years and handwritten notes and texts of Alaska declaring her love that Alaska always ‘somehow missed seeing’ whenever she turned to look. Between the photos, vocals, and fun, off-the-cuff dancing, the audience quickly moved on from that clip.

“Girl, don’t be proud,” the queens sang. “It’s okay. You’re in love.”

At the end of the song, Alaska stepped up to the front of the stage to sing the last, slow lines: “At least out loud, I won’t say I’m in love.”

Jeremy finished playing and then the screen shifted to show the clip from Alaska’s video to Sharon for Heroes vs Villains. The on-screen Alaska smiled and said, ‘I love you, Sharon!’

Alaska looked up at the screen and then out at the audience. “Fuck.”

The lights went out and the audience erupted in applause. The lights came back up for Luxx, Marcia, and Jan to bow. Then Jeremy came froward to bow. Finally, Alaska took her bows. The first four exited the stage as Alaska paused to give a few more waves and smiles. She turned to exit and found Sharon standing forward in the wings waiting for her. She beamed and walked quickly from the stage to grasp Sharon’s arms.

“Was it good?” Alaska asked with bright eyes and a hopeful smile.

“Was it good?” Sharon repeated incredulously. “Alaska, you’re incredible.”

Alaska toed her pumps off and fell forward into Sharon’s arms. She was alight with the joy of a good performance, aflame with love. She didn’t care about her makeup when she pressed her face into Sharon’s neck nor when she pulled back to kiss her.

“They’re going to eat that performance up,” Sharon said when they parted. Her lips and chin were smeared with Alaska’s lipstick which made Alaska laugh and try to wipe it away to no avail. “We have to find a good video of it for you. You’ll die.”

They walked back to the dressing room together. When they entered, it was to the other queens’ excited chattering over how good the show was, how fun the number was, how the audience had loved it. However, as Sharon wiped her mouth at Alaska’s makeup station, they spared a few jokes at her expense, too.

“Mock all you want,” Sharon said. “Jealousy, that’s all it is. I’m the one going home with the leading lady.”

“I mean, yeah, gotta give it to Alaska here,” Luxx said. “This was so fun. Please always call me for this weird shit.”

“The pelvic thrusting on ‘done that,’” Marcia said. She covered her mouth as she laughed. “Too good.”

“I feel like there’s a lot more talk of my bottoming this time around,” Sharon said. There was no malice in her tone. She was saying it straight, like it was a scientific observation she had made. “Considering we’re a pretty equal opportunity bedroom? Just an observation.”

“It’s a power play,” Jan teased.

“People like you more if they think you’re getting dicked down by Alaska,” Luxx said.

Alaska blinked several times. “Okay, doll, contain yourself.”

“Good to know,” Sharon said. She leaned in close to the mirror to see if she’d really gotten all of Alaska’s lipstick off her face. “What’s the plan?”

“You’re taking me to dinner,” Alaska said. She fluffed up her big, white-blonde wig. “We might have to go over to New York though; we’ll get hate-crimed with me like this.”

“Bitch, we went to Olive Garden in the suburbs for my birthday in drag in fucking, ah, what was that? 2010, maybe?” Sharon said. “I think New Jersey can handle you.”

“And Lord knows we weren’t passing for women then!” Alaska laughed. She looked at the other queens and Jeremy. “You coming with us?”

“For sure,” Luxx said. “Maybe if it’s a full table of cross-dressers, they won’t come for us.”

Jeremy bowed out but agreed to take Alaska’s bags back to the hotel for them. The queens walked out together. Sharon and Alaska climbed into one Uber while the other three took a second. Alaska let her head fall back against the seat and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and rolled her head to the side to find Sharon already looking at her with a little smile on her face. She laughed breathily.

“What?” she asked.

Sharon shook her head. She had nothing to say that wouldn’t make Alaska look at her like she had lost her mind. How could she voice that she was trying to memorize Alaska like this? How could she explain that she needed this Alaska cemented in her memory for she knew soon enough that it would all be over? She couldn’t.

“You really liked the show?” Alaska asked. “Really, really?”

Sharon knew she had not always given Alaska her flowers, but she thought she had done better about it after their breakup through now. She thought she’d done better at compliments and saying what she meant. However, sometimes Alaska would check in like this and Sharon would wonder if she’d even managed to say ‘good job, Lask,’ after the show.

Sharon took Alaska’s hand and kissed her knuckles before she said, “You are a star.”

* * *

In her confessional, Adore said, “The thing about the Snatch Game is that it has to be funny or you’re done. You can be great at impressions, but if it’s not funny, get out, ya know?” She grinned. “That’s why I’m doing Bianca this time.”

Sharon pulled her red skirt and blazer set from her garment rack and then two flat wigs: one blonde and one brunette.

“Sharon Needles,” Michelle Visage said as she came to stop at her table. “You’re an expert Snatch Gamer.”

“You’re just saying that because I did you on my season!” Sharon said. “No, but after years of doing it on the road, I think I know what works.”

“I’d say,” Michelle said. She eyed the suit and the two wigs. “I was thinking you’d do one of your classics, but I don’t think that’s the case. What are you thinking?”

“Well, Michelle,” Sharon said. “I have Marjorie Taylor Greene and Lauren Boebert.” She patted each wig respectively. “And I’m just deciding which route I’m going to take. Do I want to be unhinged and share bat-shit conspiracy theories at CrossFit or do I want to be unhinged and jerk a guy off in a theatre? So hard to choose!”

Michelle shook her head, smiling. “You do play a great politician. I’m looking forward to seeing who you choose.”

After Michelle finished her rounds, Sharon went over to IT Girl. She watched her brush a shiny, black wig, a bob that turned up at the ends. Sharon carried a bag of grapes from craft services. Occasionally, she’d eat one. as she watched. She held the bag out to IT Girl who took two and popped them in her mouth. The editors played slow, lazy music over the interaction since neither one of them was saying anything.

“Who are you doing?” Sharon finally asked.

“Well,” IT Girl said. “I’m going to do Michelle Obama.”

“Who’s your back up?” Sharon asked.

“I don’t have one,” IT Girl said. “I can do her voice and she has a bunch of calling cards: the healthy school lunches, the fitness stuff, her jacked arms.” She paused. “Why?”

Sharon ate another grape and nodded slowly. “Baby girl, it worries me. Michelle Obama’s not funny.”

“But I can make her funny,” IT Girl said. “I know I can.”

“Well, that’s the spirit then,” Sharon said. “I'm doing Marjorie Taylor Greene and Lauren Boebert. You can probably play off me which is helpful.”

“And?” IT Girl said. “You’re doing both?”

Sharon nodded. “I’ve decided I’m going to switch wigs midway through and just be the other one. They’re interchangeable, rightwing nut jobs. That’ll be part of the bit.”

“I love that,” IT Girl said.

“And I can’t talk you out of Michelle Obama?” Sharon asked.

“No, trust me. I got this,” IT Girl said.

Sharon held up her hands and bowed to her in surrender. “I’ll trust you.”

“But thanks for looking out for me,” IT Girl said.

“Sisterhood and all that” Sharon said with a wave of her hand.

In her confessional, IT Girl said, “I’m really winning here because Sharon’s not watched my season so she doesn’t know the T.”

* * *

Episode 6 brought Sharon to Chicago to watch the episode with Detox on her home turf. There was no moderator for this one, just the two of them sitting in chairs side-by-side and being general problems. The cans around their chairs made that clear enough.

“By the way, have you watched her season yet?” Detox asked.

“Oh, yes,” Sharon said. “Oh, yes, I went home and definitely didn’t tell Alaska everything.” Sharon winked dramatically at the audience. “And she heard me talking about IT Girl and made me sit down and watch her season.”

Detox pulled at her imaginary collar. “Like we’re on villains team for our off-show shit? She’s on it for her on-show shit.”

“Well, you’re on it for on- and off-show shit,” Sharon said with a laugh.

“Shut up!” Detox said

“I actually couldn’t believe it,” Sharon said. “I’m watching that episode where she sabotaged—ah, shit, I can hear Alaska cursing me from Connecticut—or is she in Massachusetts?—right now. Who’s the little pageant queen she sabotaged? Something fruity.”

“Sharon, we talked about language like that,” Detox chided.

Sharon groaned and rolled her eyes as the audience laughed.

“Who is it?” Sharon asked the audience. They yelled back at her. “Yes! Thank you! When she sabotaged Kiwi Couture’s closet! Next level villainy!”

“Girl, I can’t believe they didn’t disqualify her,” Detox admitted. “She cut her wigs!”

“They saw the dollar signs,” Sharon said dryly. “I bet viewership went way up once she started. But I can’t believe it because IT Girl was just so damn sweet on our season.”

“I know,” Detox said. “Maybe because we were all on it. It’s harder to be bold like that with legends versus newbies.”

Sharon pointed towards the screen. “But anyway, they aren’t showing much of your character yet.”

“No, and that’s a gift,” Detox said. “I remember just sitting at my station and staring at the wall because both of my characters got nixed, but I was trying to play it cool because I didn’t want that to be a scene, you know? I didn’t want them to use that as a moment for me, so I was trying not to let it be clear that I was fucked.”

“Snatch Game isn’t your thing,” Sharon said.

“It absolutely isn’t,” Detox agreed. “I did shitty on both of my other ones, so I was just trying to survive.”

* * *

“Is she funny though?’ Jinkx asked.

“Dita Von Teese is very funny,” Violet said.

“No, not is she a funny person,” Jinkx said. “Can you make her somebody everyone will laugh at?”

Violet blinked a few times and then looked at her form where her perfect dress waited for her. To her, it screamed classic Dita with the prominent artsy sleeves and exposed bra cups. She sighed and shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I think so? I hope so? I… I know her really well and that should help me.”

“You’re funny, Violet,” Jinkx said. “Just don’t forget that.”

In her confessional, Jinkx said, “It’s risky doing someone you know personally. You get caught up in doing right by them. Think of Detox’s Kesha! That was bad, and it was because she was too close to the subject matter. That’s what I’m afraid is going to happen to Violet here.”

“What are you doing, Detox?” Violet asked.

“Uh, well,” Detox said. “I am sitting here.”

Sharon looked over slowly from where she was brushing her wig. She met Violet’s eyes and then slowly turned her head back to her wig. She widened her eyes slightly and mouthed ‘uh oh’ mostly to herself.

In her confessional, Sharon said, “I can do a Snatch Game even on a bad day, but I’m feeling extra good right now since I’m seeing at least three people making terrible choices. Even if I don’t win, I am not going home on this one.”

* * *

“Your empathy is astounding,” Detox said dryly.

Sharon paused for a long moment before looking at Detox, startled. She said, “What was that? I got distracted by my reflection in the disco ball there.” She giggled airily. “No, but come now. You’re the same way.”

Detox shrugged.

“Oh, she’s playing demure,” Sharon teased. “It’s that Gemini in her.”

“Aw, you know I’m a Gemini?” Detox pretended to swoon.

“Detox, darling.” Sharon blinked hard. “Everyone knows you’re a Gemini if they follow you on Twitter. We know this against our will.”

“Okay,” Detox said in her best Bianca bark.

* * *

“Oh, Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene,” Michelle Visage said. “How surprising to see you here! Did you get lost?”

“No, because, you see, you never can get lost if you keep two things in mind,” Sharon said with wide eyes and a Cheshire grin. “If you keep in mind that it’s all God’s plan, first and foremost, and that’s really key because God’s light is all that shines on me every day, and I do have the sun spots to prove it, yes, ma’am.” She nodded. “But God’s light keeps you from getting lost, but if it’s the night time and God’s light has set for the day because even the sweet Lord baby Jesus needs some time to rest? You can follow the glow of space lasers and they’ll guide you right to this sickening, American-hating cesspool.”

“Hear that? She thinks we’re sickening!” Adore cried out as Bianca Del Rio. “Why, thank you, Marjorie, for pointing out the obvious that a bunch of drag queens have got a number on you anyway! Maybe if you hang around long enough, Raven’ll show up and help you cover your sunspots! Sure, you’ll be black when she’s done, but hey, no more marks!”

The challenge continues and it gets harder and harder to watch with every minute. Jinkx’s Jennifer Coolidge hits every mark. Sharon dances on the line with her Republican congresswomen but gets the laughs. Adore nails her Bianca impersonation. After that? It’s a race to the bottom with Michelle Obama, Cardi B, Dita Von Teese, and Kris Jenner.

* * *

“I would pay money to never have to watch that again,” Detox said. “I am so upset that this will be tweeted at me for the rest of my fucking life. Am I funny, Sharon?”

“You’re funny,” Sharon said. She sipped her beer. “You’re an improv queen.”

“Then why can’t I do this? This is improv!” Detox groaned. “Why am I so fucking bad at this challenge?”

“This is improv as a real character,” Sharon said. “This is impressions but with improv. That’s hard. Hey, you weren’t the worst.”

“High praise,” Detox said dryly.

“What? You want me to tell you that you were good?” Sharon said. Then in her best Kris Jenner, she added, “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

The audience laughed and Detox dramatically threw herself back against the chair.

“Salt in the wound! In the Kris Jenner wound!” Detox cried out between her squawking laughs.

“But you weren’t the worst, and sometimes that’s the name of the game, right?” Sharon said.

* * *

“This week, if you’re not in the top, you’re in the bottom,” Michelle announced. “Will the following queens please step forward, Jinkx Monsoon, Sharon Needles, and Adore Delano.” A beat. “You three represent our tops of this week.”

Sharon, wearing a patent leather dress in pastel pink and a matching studded collar and dangerously high stilettos, grinned as she looked at Adore, wearing a pastel blue suit, and Jinkx, wearing a pastel green mermaid gown. They matched her smile and nodded in silent agreement: Thank God! Another step closer to the finale!

“Two of you shone this week, however, both in the challenge and on the runway,” Michelle said. “Sharon Needles, Adore Delano, condragulations, you are the winners of this challenge. Your characters were perfect and your fashion tonight shows range. I can’t say I’ve ever seen either of you in pastels before.”

“Serving Easter realness, mama,” Sharon said in an exaggerated lisp on top of her already high-pitched voice. “So fierce. House down boots.”

Adore leaned to the side to smack her even as she laughed. “Shut up, some people talk like that!”

“Party,” Sharon teased.

“You may leave the stage,” Michelle said.

* * *

“Another win for Miss Needles!” Detox said. “What’s that now? Three?”

Sharon hummed. “We count the group win?”

“I’m counting it! I’ve got two wins with it!” Detox laughed. “Group win, makeover, and now this. You’re cleaning up.”

“People always say some of my wins on my season were undeserved,” Sharon said, “but I think it just pains them that I’m not bad at Drag Race.”

“Probably,” Detox agreed.

“I was thrilled to win, of course, and you know, with this money, I'm taking Alaska on vacation,” Sharon said with a smirk. "I think she could use a break."

Detox could barely contain her delight. "On a goddamn cruise, I hope, bitch!"

Sharon and Detox both cackled as the audience laughed and cheered, but Sharon was shaking her head and waving her hand.

“No, no, not a cruise. I didn't win one here." Sharon sighed. "But all my villains are in the bottom, and I walked back with Jinkx and Adore and was like ‘Wait a fucking second…’”

Detox nodded. “And at this point, it’s smooth sailing. The drama’s gone. We’re just having fun. This is a scary moment for me, Violet, and IT Girl—and I guess Peppermint.”

“Peppermint wasn’t going anywhere,” Sharon said with a wave of her hand. “Her Cardi B was mediocre, but it wasn’t bad—just like with your Kris Jenner.”

* * *

“I’m in the bottom,” Violet said as soon as she walked back into the lounge. “Like, I’m lip syncing. There’s no way I’m not.”

She flung herself down onto the sofa beside Sharon and crossed her arms over her chest. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then looked at Sharon.

“Congratulations,” she said.

“Thanks,” Sharon said. She rubbed Violet’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Jinkx tried to warn me,” Violet said. “Why I didn’t listen to a Snatch Game god? Who knows!”

“And Sharon tried to warn me,” IT Girl added. She stood by the table of drinks, eyeing them without making a move to take one. “Very stupid. Michelle Obama’s not funny.”

In her confessional, Jinkx said, “Not a time I wanted to be right. Violet’s so talented and I’m afraid she’s about to get in her head before this lip sync.”

Violet got up to go to her station to touch up her makeup. For the pastel runway, she had ended up in a tight dress of a Frank Moth print, one of the bodies with pastel flowers growing out of the neck, with a cream leather harness. Stunning, truly, but her Dita Von Teese had missed so hard that it was difficult to say how much it mattered. Violet never missed on a runway; her challenges carried all the weight.

Detox kept quiet as she sipped her drink and looked around the room at the varying levels of distress. She caught Sharon’s eyes and shrugged slightly. Sharon widened her eyes and nodded.

In her confessional, Detox said, “I’m safe. I’m definitely safe. My lavender look is sickening. My Kris Jenner was blah. I’m okay.”

In the end, Jinkx foretold the future:

“IT Girl, shantay, you stay,” Michelle said, “and that means Violet Chachki, it’s time for you to sashay away.”

Violet nodded and thanked the judges. She left the runway without a catchphrase or even a pause which gagged the girls and judges. Back in the work room, the camera zoomed in on her mirror message: This is yours to win for the villains, Sharon. Bring home another crown for me to steal. XOXO Violet

* * *

Sharon had just gotten out of her Uber and was walking into the hotel when her phone rang. Alaska’s name and picture took over her screen.

“Hello?” Sharon said.

“Winner, winner!” Alaska screamed on the other end of the phone. “Aahhhhhh! I just watched it on my phone on my way to the airport. You were so good!”

Sharon smiled and leaned back against the elevator. She closed her eyes as she listened to Alaska gush. This part never grew old. Because they were apart, Alaska was even more giving than she usually would be. Sharon certainly didn’t mind.

“We need to find another reason for that pastel look,” Alaska said. “Seeing it on the runway had my mind going! Like put a black wig with it and change out the jewelry and it’s a totally different thing? I think we could have fun with that. A music video?”

“Design me, direct me, write me,” Sharon drawled. “Make me your muse.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Alaska teased.

“How was your show?” Sharon asked. “I haven’t gotten to poke around online yet. I just finished up with Detox.”

“Ugh, so good,” Alaska said. “That Hercules songs hits every time.”

“Your voice really is good for it, too,” Sharon said. She scanned her card at her door and stepped into her room. “I can’t believe you’re flying home tonight.”

“I didn’t want to stay,” Alaska said. “I’ll sleep in our own bed with our own cats no matter how late, thanks. You’re coming in the morning?”

“Yes. Wait, how much time do you have before your flight?”

“Uhhhh, like two hours. I just left from the venue.”

“Let me call you back in twenty,” Sharon said. “I’m going to get out of drag, but I want to talk to you until you take off.”

“Aren’t you tired, baby?”

“Exhausted, but you’ll keep me company.”

“Okay then,” Alaska said with an obvious smile. “You’ll call me?”

“Yes,” Sharon said. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Episode 7 Synopsis : One of the most important parts of being a famous drag queen is knowing how to brand yourself. This week, the queens have to put together a package that shows they know how to market themselves. With only six queens left, things are winding down! Which hero and which villain will pack their bags this week?

* * *

“I promise you it’ll be okay,” Alaska had said at the front door. “If it goes poorly, we’re only two hours from home. We’ll go home.”

Sharon had her arms full with gift bags and bags of food—by choice. She’d gladly taken them all from the backseat so as to have something to do when they walked into Pam’s house. Alaska had given her one more look, another nod and warm smile, and then opened the front door.

“Helloooo?” she called

“In here!”

Alaska had grinned and toed her shoes off before going through to the living room. Sharon had stood by the door, watching Alaska flit around to her siblings and their spouses to greet them all with unabashed delight. Sharon had shifted the bags to keep them from cutting into her arms, but she had not stopped watching the happy reunion. Seeing Alaska with her family had always been like something out of a television show for Sharon. Alaska had stopped by her sister-in-law, the one who had had the baby, and now crouched down beside her to look at said baby in her lap.

“You can go in.”

Sharon had looked over to see Alaska’s mother and gave a little nod in greeting. She had then looked back at Alaska, who was listening to her sister-in-law talk, and had shaken her head.

“I’m okay,” Sharon had said as neutrally as she could. “I should—these should go in the fridge.” She had nodded to the reusable grocery bags on one arm. “These ones, obviously, not the gifts.”

“Gifts? That was nice of you two,” Pam had said.

Sharon had smiled. “Well, we’re not amateurs. Their first baby? We had to.”

Before Pam could comment, they were cut off by Cory’s boisterous voice.

“Hold him, Justin,” Cory had said. “Go on. You gotta.”

“Oh, he’s so little though,” Alaska had said.

“Don’t be a baby and hold the baby,” Cory had said firmly. “God, everything’s whining with you, Justin. Hold the damn baby.”

That had made everyone laugh. Sharon had cut her eyes to Pam and smirked. She had rolled her eyes good-naturedly; she knew her sons well.

“Some things will never change no matter how old they get,” Pam had said softly but with great affection. “I only hope Justin gets a chance to see it with kids of his own one day.”

Sharon had tried not to let her eyes bug out of her head, but her ears did turn red. She and Alaska had very much agreed—several times over the years while both together and apart—that children were not in their futures. They had talked about enjoying their nieces and nephews and that time spent with them. They had even talked about the possibility of helping Sharon’s niece out more by taking the boys in the summer like they had once taken Caeley to give reprieve. But their own? No. As far as she knew, that had not changed.

However, it was good to see Pam was equal-opportunity in her pressuring-for-grandchildren; both gay and straight children would be told. Perhaps she had just anticipated that Alaska and Sharon would not work this time either, and Alaska would end up with someone who she would want to have children with. Logically, Sharon had known that Pam would never accept her, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting a little still. Death by a thousand paper cuts was still a death.

“Getting aggressive over my holding your baby is another level. You need help,” Alaska had said. She had sat down on the nearby armchair. “Okay, gimme my nephew.”

Pam had stood with Sharon in silence for a another minute before she had taken Sharon’s arm to walk through the living room and into the kitchen. Pam could play nice for her son’s sake. It would take so little to make Alaska happy this weekend. This would be the start: not making her boyfriend feel completely alienated and unsure in the entryway. Sharon had started unpacking the bags. Alaska had insisted on bringing family favorites from bakeries and delis in Pittsburgh, and Sharon had gladly played mule to please her.

“Marie, Tyler, do you remember Aaron?” Pam had said to two of her grandchildren who were at the kitchen table cutting out shapes in cookie dough. “Uncle Justin’s boyfriend?”

“You do drag, too, right?” Marie had asked.

“I do,” Sharon had said.

“Then, yeah, cause remember the videos Mommy showed us?” Marie had said to her brother. “That’s him.”

“You look different,” Tyler had said with wide eyes.

Sharon had laughed, but before she could speak, Marie sighed and rolled her eyes. She said, “Well, yeah, he’s not dressed up right now. They’re only girls sometimes.”

“We’re making cookies,” Tyler had said. “Because we’re having a party for the new baby, so we get to make cookies and then decorate them.”

Sharon could do this. Had Pam brought her in here because she knew that Sharon could do kid-talk better or was it just a happy accident? Either way, Sharon had been relieved to find a way to be normal at this gathering. Pam had waved Sharon away, taking over the unpacking of the food bags.

“Oh, and how are you going to do that?” Sharon had asked. She had sat at the table and looked over the different cookie cutters. “Which ones?”

“We have frosting and sprinkles and, and, and that little sugar that looks like crystals,” Marie had said.

“And we’re going to do the duck, the cat, and the…” Tyler had trailed off as he looked for the last shape. “Oh, the airplane.”

Sharon had gasped. “I love this plan. What else?”

“Well, I want to do a rainbow plane because rainbows are pretty,” Marie had explained, “and Tyler wants to do blue because the baby’s a boy.”

“Do boys need to be blue?” Sharon had asked.

Tyler opened his mouth to speak, but Marie had jumped in to say, “No, colors aren’t for boys or girls. They’re for everyone.”

“So maybe we can make the planes other colors, too,” Tyler had said slowly. “Aaron, you can decorate some cats.”

“That’s perfect,” Alaska had said from the doorway. She no longer held the baby. “He loves cats. We have a cat.”

“You do?” Marie eyes had grown wide.

“We do,” Sharon had said seriously. “A big, fat cat named Wax.”

Marie had giggled. “A cat named Wax? That’s silly.”

“Maybe after you cut out all the cookies,” Pam had said, “Justin and Aaron will take you to the beach. Then when you come back, the cookies will be cooled and you can decorate them.”

Both kids had looked over at their uncle and Sharon with pleading eyes.

“I think that can be arranged,” Alaska had drawled. “Let’s go change, baby.”

Pam had pointed at them. “I swear to God if you only brought Speedos.”

Alaska had laughed and shook her head. She had picked up their duffel bag and started upstairs. Sharon, however, had gone for the presents rather than follow Alaska; they couldn’t leave these here no matter how much Sharon would have preferred not to be going in there alone. But she had reminded herself that she was a big girl who had done worse than deal with in-laws (of sorts) that hated her. This was a performance! She would be playing the role of the confident boyfriend who wasn’t hated.

“Congratulations,” Sharon had said brightly as she walked into the living room. She had bypassed Cory completely to go right to his wife. “We’ve been drafted to take the kids to the beach, so I—”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” Brooke had said. She had leaned back to yell into the kitchen. “Mom, they literally just got here and you’re sending them out on kid duty?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sharon had said, shaking her head. She had put the three gift bags down on the floor between Cory’s and wife’s feet. “I just wanted to explain why we’re in and out so fast.”

“Oh, boy, what did you guys do?” Cory had asked..

“Went a little crazy in some boutiques and the book store. Oh, we put a favorite of ours If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and its sequels for obvious reasons.” Sharon had said.

“Oh, yeah, for obvious reasons,” Ryan had teased.

She giggled airily, and it had decidedly been her stage laugh. “There might even be the tiniest Alaska T-shirt in there, but she doesn’t know I put that in.”

“Thank you,” Cory had said grudgingly.

His wife, however, was much warmer when she smiled up at Sharon and said, “Seriously, thank you. That’s so thoughtful of you guys.”

Sharon had wondered if she could win her over. It was possible, surely it was. She had perched on the arm of the sofa to look down at the baby and had clicked her tongue softly.

“Sorry, we never actually officially met,” Sharon had said. “I know we know of each other, but I’m Aaron.”

“Brittany,” she had said. “And this is Cash.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Sharon had said. She had leaned in to add quietly, “And I mean it. Some newborns? Not cute. This one? He’s like a little angel. Those big cheeks!”

“Thank you!” Brittany had smiled up at Sharon. “He’s almost ten pounds—”

“Nine pounds, six ounces,” Cory had said on cue despite his desire not to talk with his brother’s boyfriend. “He’s solid.”

“You’re a saint,” Sharon had said to Brittany.

“Baby,” Alaska had said from the doorway. “Two out of four nieces and nephews are dying because we’re not out the door.”

Sharon had looked up to see Alaska was already dressed in her bathing suit and held their beach bag. On the sofa, Alaska’s teenaged niece perked up when she realized what she’d missed in her scrolling. She gasped and slammed her hands down on the cushions.

“Wait, can I come?” she had asked. “My friend’s gonna be there with her cousins.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “That okay with you, Justin?”

“Of course! Why not?” Alaska had said. “Now three are dying, baby. Go change.”

“We’ll talk more later,” Sharon had said to Brittany. She had weaved through the living room to Alaska in the doorway to kiss her cheek. “The beach isn’t going anywhere. We’re okay.”

“You haven’t heard my children whine,” Brooke had joked. “Justin’s waiting for the meltdown. Although, now it won’t be your fault alone.” She had pointed at her eldest daughter. “Don’t take forever. Wear sunscreen.”

“Oh, you have sunscreen, right?” Alaska had said to Sharon.

Sharon, who had started up the stairs, had walked back down them to stare at Alaska and then hold up her arm. “Look at me. You know I have sunscreen.”

That had several siblings and spouses snorting and chuckling as Sharon had walked back to the stairs. Before she had closed herself away in their guest room, she had heard a few more bits:

“Hey, does he have to stay that pale?” Ryan had asked. “Like contractually?”

“I mean, he doesn’t have to, but it sure fits the persona better if he does,” Alaska had said.

“Who would he be contractually obligated to for his skin tone?” Cory had asked Ryan. “Can you use your whole head, bro?”

Alaska had cackled. “Excuse me, RuPaul says that you must not be any darker than a bleached eggshell. Can you sign off on that?”

Thud-ump! Thud-ump! Thud-ump!

Sharon was pulled from her memories of their weekend trip to Erie the previous summer as the plane touched down at the Pittsburgh airport. Home. So close. Only deplaning and baggage check stood between her and it. She had only been in Chicago for two nights, but she had had to check luggage, of course. That was the problem with drag; there was no light travel.

Sharon: Landed. These short flights really are ridiculous. It’s like you barely get into the air before you’re descending.

Alaska: I’m at baggage.

Alaska: And I know! I feel like that with every flight to NYC!

Sharon: This is going to take a minute. There’s a woman yelling at the flight attendants because she thinks she should get to get off first.

Sharon: She’s very important.

Alaska: Oh, obviously. Don’t they know who she is?

Sharon: She’s a middle-aged midwest mom whose son is getting married, goddamn it! She needs to get off this plane! A cookie table is waiting for her!

Alaska: Ahhhhh the cookie table!!! Did she say that or are you doing a bit?

Sharon: I swear on everything that she said it. She said she needs to set up the cookie table and needs to get to the bakery before it closes. God, I love Pittsburghers.

Alaska: Girl, it is eleven in the morning. What bakery is closing?

Sharon: [selfie of Sharon smizing at the camera through purple-tinted glasses, but the obvious point of the photo is the woman standing in the aisle several rows back pointing] I’m a hostage. Send help.

Alaska leaned against the pillar near the baggage carousel that should start spinning soon enough if the hanging sign above it was to be believed. The night before, when they’d talking on the phone as Sharon started to fall asleep and Alaska waited for her own flight, Sharon had offered to take an Uber home so Alaska could sleep in; and that idea still had Alaska rolling her eyes. In what world would she let her boyfriend fly in and not pick her up when she was available? Sharon was so bizarre with her expectations. Sometimes she expected the world of Alaska and her asks were so immense that Alaska was left reeling. Other times she thought the smallest thing would put Alaska out and wouldn’t dare request it. It would be funny if it wasn’t so damn sad.

Sure enough, the baggage carousel roared to life and bags started to slide down into it. Alaska pushed off the pillar to go to the edge to grab Sharon’s bag when it appeared. However, she did not see Sharon’s suitcase; she saw one of her own with the leopard ribbon tied around the handle so it stood out amongst the other black suitcases. Alaska huffed a laugh and grabbed it from the conveyor belt. Beside her, an older lady, maybe in her seventies, was giving her a funny look. With her bejeweled eyeglasses and sequined Keds, the woman seemed like somebody Alaska could chat with while she waited for Sharon.

“He took my luggage on his trip,” Alaska said with a roll of her eyes. “What’s wrong with his?”

“Men,” the woman said with playful disgust. “My husband always wants what’s mine. Mine’s not hungry until he sees what’s on my plate.”

Alaska grinned. “Oh, no, I’m the one guilty of that. He orders with my dietary restrictions now because he anticipates it. That’s a real sacrifice because we’re already vegetarians, and then I’m gluten- and dairy-free.”

“Men,” she said again, but this time, she laughed when she said it. “How long have you been together?”

Well, wasn’t that a difficult question? There were so many ways to answer it! It had been over a year since they reconnected on the Anniversary Tour. They had been together for about four years before. Was this one year together? Was this five years and some change? But they had been so interconnected all this time that it felt strange to wipe all that away. It felt wrong to pretend that those years—the calls, the events, the dinners, the jokes, the shows, the tears, the travel, the secrets, everything—didn’t fundamentally affect who they were together now.

“Ah, since 2009,” Alaska said.

“Oh, heavens, such a long time!” The woman clapped her hands together. “My husband and I just celebrated fifty years together last September.” She reached out to clasp Alaska’s hand in that way that only a woman of a certain age could get away with doing to a stranger. “I hope you get to see as many as that. It’s a real blessing.”

Alaska’s heart fluttered and she smiled down at her feet. It was a cliche, a simple nicety that older people often said to those younger than them, not anything particularly life-changing or revolutionary. In fact, fifty years was so hard for Alaska to conceptualize despite being closer to that age than she was to thirty now—oh, yikes.

“I hope you’re right,” Alaska said warmly. “Are you waiting for your husband?”

“Oh, no, no, our grandchildren,” she said. Her eyes twinkled. “They’re coming to stay with us because they have a February break with school. That’s going to be real nice.”

Alaska nodded and opened her mouth to ask about the grandchildren when she felt Sharon’s hand running along her back. She smiled and turned to her right to kiss Sharon hello and to put an arm around her when they parted. As Alaska would have expected, Sharon was prepared to be the life of the party as usual as soon as she saw Alaska was not alone.

“Oh, you look fabulous!” Sharon said to the older woman. “I love those glasses!”

“And I love yours!” the woman said with a matching smile. “Purple lenses. That’s neat.”

“Thank you,” Sharon said. She signaled to the woman’s outfit. “Truly, the look here! Ah, people don’t dress anymore, but here you are dressing to pick someone up at the airport!” She laughed airily. “Fashion!”

Alaska leaned against Sharon’s side and simply watched her dazzle the woman. Sharon was good at making you feel like she only saw you when she was prepared to turn on the charm. Somehow, in the airport after waiting for a crazy lady to chill out on the plane and after a late night of working, she was prepared to turn on the charm.

“She’s picking up her grandchildren,” Alaska said. “She needs to look good for them.”

“I can’t embarrass them,” she agreed.

“I don’t see how you could!” Sharon said seriously. “They have the coolest grandma in the city, I’m sure of that.”

As if on cue, two teenagers walked up to the woman. The girl hugged her tightly while the boy bounced on his toes and waited his turn for a big hug. Then they turned to see who their grandmother was talking to and their jaws dropped.

“Mom-Mom, are you so serious right now?” the girl asked.

“This isn’t real,” the boy said. “No way. You’re not them. Are you?”

Sharon and Alaska looked at each other, amused, before looking back at the grandchildren.

“That depends on who you think we are,” Alaska drawled.

“Oh my God,” the boy said with wide eyes. He covered his mouth. “It is.”

“It’s them,” the girl said. “That voice. Mom-Mom, you’ve just been… been talking?”

The woman blinked a few times. “Well, yeah, about love and luggage and men.”

“Oh, naturally,” Sharon said.

“We’re watching Heroes vs Villains right now,” the boy said to Sharon. “We’re obsessed.  Congratulations on your win last night. So deserved. We died.” He let out a shaky breath. “Oh my God. I can’t believe this is real life. Okay, this is so cringe. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve literally been praying for an All-Winners 2 since the cast of the first one was announced,” the girl said to Alaska. “We went to the Anniversary Tour when it was here in Pittsburgh and cried.”

“Mom-Mom,” the boy said. He had pulled out his phone to show her a photo. “These are the drag queens we saw last year, remember? Alaska and Sharon Needles?”

“You took her to the show?” Sharon asked with obvious delight.

“She got us the tickets for an early Christmas present!” the girl said.

Sharon reached out to squeeze the woman’s arm. “See, I knew you were the cool grandma.”

“Can we get a picture?” the girl asked. “Is that allowed?”

Alaska had to laugh even as she nodded. “Yeah, honey, that’s allowed.”

After a few photos and a bit more chatting, Sharon and Alaska were on their way to the car. If either had been feeling their late nights and travel, they weren’t anymore. How could they after such a wholesome fan interaction? It was rare that individual fans stuck with them, but both had a feeling they’d be remembering this trio for a while.

“Let’s do Greece. Do you want to do Greece?” Sharon said when they got onto the highway.

“Yeah?” Alaska’s eyes lit up as she quickly glanced across the car at her. “I’ll do Greece.”

“Let’s go in May,” Sharon said. “Two weeks? Too long, not long enough?”

“Two weeks in May,” Alaska repeated. She groaned. “God, we’ll feel so good before Pride. You know you’re gonna be booked to death in June.”

“We’ll see,” Sharon said.

She wasn’t about to bank on it. Sharon had gotten comfortable with the fickleness of fame; she’d had to to survive the early 2020s. Still, a part of her really did hope Alaska was right and that her agent would call her with June offers come spring. There was only one blackout weekend on their calendars: Pittsburgh Pride and the show they hosted together with local queens and their big-time Ru Girl friends. Their first one had been a roaring success thanks to Trixie and Katya, who had shockingly taken Sharon up on the invitation (which she had offered partly to secure a friendly audience and partly to give Alaska a great first hosting gig). They were looking to make it a tradition, to grow it even bigger.

Sharon rubbed the nape of Alaska’s neck. “You’re going to look so fucking hot with a tan on those beaches. They do nude beaches there, you know.”

“I was going to say we need some new bathing suits, but maybe we don’t,” Alaska teased.

“You don’t,” Sharon said. “I’ll be wearing a scuba suit so I can stay contractually the color of an eggshell.”

Alaska’s laugh was so sudden, so raucous, that it made them both jump and then laugh more.

“Oh, no! You heard that?” Alaska managed before laughs. “You never said anything about it!”

“RuPaul herself will come cut up my contract,” Sharon continued. “It’s okay because I’ll bring my own egg from home that’s not so white. She won’t be able to get me.”

“Ssh, ssh, stop, I’m gonna crash the car!”

“That’s why you should have driven the hearse! They could just put our bodies in the back!”

* * *

One of the projects that Alaska had started on the house—because Sharon really had meant it when she had said Alaska could do whatever she wanted with decor when she moved in—was the repainting of the little den. Was it a den? What constituted a den? Well, they called it a den. It was a room off the kitchen that was decidedly too small to be a living room or dining room that also didn’t have a closet so it wasn’t a bedroom. Throughout the years, this room had served many purposes: a party spot where people did lines and had sex; a spot for photos thanks to a big, blank wall; a work space for Chad; and finally, a storage space.

That was what Alaska was contending with now. She had cleared out the strange collection of items Sharon had been dumping there slowly, but now Alaska had the room as it was previously: as Chad’s space. Of course, he had taken mostly everything out of the room, but there were still some odd finds. She wasn’t surprised that Sharon hadn’t gotten rid of them—she could be sentimental, so there was a chance she hadn’t thrown them away because of that; and there was the possibility that she hadn’t known they were there because of all the other things she’d piled up in there over the years—but rather, she was surprised that Chad had left them behind at all. She’d found sketches, bottles of  (expensive) paint, some small models of larger pieces he must have been designing when they broke up. Some things she’d just thrown out; while others, she’d set aside for Sharon to look at and decide if they should be put in the mail for Chad.

“Okay,” she said to herself quietly. “Okay, so that’s… that’s good.”

The space was empty finally. She had laid out tarp and taped off the woodwork. Now she could paint. The pale yellow walls were so bizarre, and clearly so original judging by the dust collection and sun-bleaching, but she could not remember their being this color when she had first lived here. Then again, she’d done a lot of drugs in those days. Was she really paying much mind to the wall color? As she got to painting, she wondered if she shouldn’t just contact Chad herself instead of leaving it to Sharon.

Alaska and Chad had gotten along well enough, she had always thought, but there had been a few instances where she’d questioned it—but moreover, recently, there had been a few things Sharon had said that made her wonder if perhaps Chad had been silently steaming about her. That would have been rich considering which role Chad had played in their screenplay of life. But as yellow began to disappear under the beautiful, rich green, Alaska couldn’t help but wonder about a night that had often struck her as strange.

It had been during one of their Heels of Hell tour. Which one? Alaska couldn’t have told you. At this point, they had all ran together. She only knew it was that tour because that had been their appointment Halloween work for years and years—and really, in hindsight, Alaska should have known it would have ruffled Chad’s feathers eventually. Who wanted their boyfriend performing on their anniversary—because they had considered Halloween to be their day even though that timeline had always given Alaska hives—with his ex-boyfriend every year?

But this had been after a show. This had been in a little club that had gladly opened its doors to all the queens, techs, friends, and fans after the show had ended. They had swept into the club, all of them, and gladly took up residence across booths, barstools, the dance floor, and even atop tables. That last one? That had been where Alaska had found Sharon: laying on top of a long table, wearing only the leotard and heels from her costume, and staring up at the ceiling. Alaska had walked by and ruffled Sharon’s hair playfully. Where had her wig gone anyway?

“What are you doing?” Alaska had asked.

“Lasky,” Sharon had slurred. “Look at it.”

“At what?” Alaska had asked even as she looked up.

Above them, the ceiling had been painted like stained glass. With the recessed lighting’s amber lightbulbs, it even glowed like it. She had gasped and smiled as she spun around to get the whole view. It was like a kaleidoscope in all the best ways.

“It’s to die for,” Sharon had said.

“Fabulous,” Alaska had agreed. “But do you have to lay on their table?”

“Oh, don’t be so uptight,” Sharon had said. “I’m laying here. Nothing’s going to happen. It’s not like I’m dancing on it.”

“Yet,” Alaska had said dryly. They both had laughed. “Where’s Chad?”

“He…” Sharon had sat up on her elbows to look around. “I don’t know. He said he was going to…”

Alaska had waited several seconds for Sharon to finish that thought, but it never came. She had cleared her throat and crouched down beside the table to meet Sharon’s eyes. Even with her white contacts to act as a shield, her pupils were blown wide. For a moment, even with Alaska right in front of her face, Sharon had looked right through her. That had made Alaska’s skin cold and clammy.

“Sharon,” Alaska had said firmly. “Sharon.”

Sharon’s eyes had focused on her then and a brilliant smile had crossed her face. She’d rolled onto her stomach so she could touch Alaska’s cheek. But it had taken her a moment to make contact. Her hand had hung in the air in the short distance between them before Sharon had finally touched her. If she hadn’t known any better, Alaska would have thought the delay was Sharon’s debating on touching her—but she did know better, so she knew it was whatever was in her system that had her out of calibration.

“Hi, Lasky,” she had said. “You have to look at this ceiling. To die for!”

“Hello again,” Alaska had said with a chuckle. “What did you have today?”

“What did I have?” Sharon had repeated. “A banana, for sure, and—”

“No, not to eat.” Alaska had rolled her eyes. “What did you take? What did you drink?”

Sharon had laughed and pulled back from Alaska to lay down on the table again. She had thrown her arm over her eyes and let out a long, melodic sigh. Alaska had looked up at that to-die-for ceiling as if perhaps a higher power was up there looking to help her out on this one. Sharron was not her responsibility—anybody in this room right now would tell her that, even strangers—but Alaska knew Sharon would always be her responsibility.

“Do you not know?” Alaska had asked. She’d tapped her fingers on Sharon’s forehead. “Beer, for starters. What else?”

“Knock-knock, come in,” Sharon had said as she grabbed Alaska’s fingers to stop them from tapping on her head. “Actually, nobody’s home.”

“Clearly nobody is home,” Alaska had agreed. “What if I get you some water?”

“What if?” Sharon had said back. “Then I suppose I’d have to drink.”

“And if you drank it, then you’d make me really happy,” Alaska had said.

“And if I made you really happy, then I guess I’d have to apologize to Chad,” Sharon had said.

Alaska had paused, head cocked to the side, and mouth slightly ajar. There was a lot there for her to think about, and she’d use the walk to the bar for water to unpack that. After she had gotten the glass, Alaska had walked back to Sharon to find Chad now hovering over her which was relieving because Alaska hadn’t exactly been keen on leaving Sharon alone.

“Hey,” Alaska had said. “Glad you’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” Chad had asked with his usual half-smile.

“Well, at the party, of course, yeah,” Alaska had said. “But I meant literally right here.”

Chad had looked confused as he looked from Alaska to Sharon and back, but he nodded anyway. Alaska had handed him the glass of water and then pointed to Sharon.

“He needs some clear liquids, stat,” Alaska had said. “Do you know what he took? Maybe he shouldn’t have anything else for a while.”

Sharon had laid there, staring up at them, eyes darting from one side, Chad, to the other side, Alaska. With them standing on either side of Sharon on the table and the ceiling above them, they made quite the tableau. Chad had looked down at his boyfriend and winked before looking back at Alaska.

“I think you’re overreacting,” Chad had said. “We were just talking about the show and he was totally normal.”

Alaska had blinked a few times. “Well, we had the same conversation two times in a row in a matter of seconds before I went to get him the water, so I’m just putting it out there.”

“Thanks for your concern,” Chad had said. “I’ll keep an eye on him. You go have fun.”

Alaska had felt dismissed. No, she hadn’t felt dismissed; she had known she was being dismissed. She hadn’t even been able to be upset about it because it really wasn’t her place and she knew it. So she had nodded and made to leave, but then Chad had spoken again.

“Oh, great show tonight,” he had said. “I loved that Blob reference.”

“Ahh, you caught it!” Alaska had smiled. “I’m glad it wasn’t lost on everyone other than me and Sharon.” She had clapped her hands together and nodded. “All right, well, I’m gonna go over there. Just… yeah, maybe nothing else for her. That really freaked me out, ya know?”

“Aye, aye,” Chad had said.

With that, Alaska had left feeling much better about the whole interaction. She had just been reading into Chad. He wasn’t boisterous, wasn’t overly chatty, wasn’t like Sharon or herself. It was all right that he had been reserved with her just now, hadn’t wanted to share this anxiety. And maybe Sharon had gotten a little more clear-eyed while she had been gone and so Chad really had no reason to be as worried as Alaska had been.

“I want to dance!” Alaska had announced as she slammed her hands down on the table where a few of the other queens were sitting.

“You heard the woman,” Latrice had said. “Someone go dance with her. Not me, I’ll be right here.”

In the end, Aja and Ivy Winters had joined Alaska on the dance floor along with some of the local queens. After a while, Alaska was tired enough to want to sit and relax. She had peeled off to go to the bathroom first. On Alaska’s way back to the table, however, Sharon’s loud voice had turned her head instead. First, Alaska had been filled with relief that she was up and chatting. Unfortunately, that had been quickly overshadowed when she saw her leaning over the table to do a line—with Chad right there!

“What?” Alaska had said as she marched over to them. “What is going on?”

Sharon had blinked a few times as she rubbed her nostril. “Well, you don’t… don’t do it anymore, so I wasn’t going to, to call you over.”

“That is not the problem here,” Alaska had said firmly to her. She had then turned to Chad. “I don’t get it. What was the confusing part there? He’s already drunk and on God knows what else.”

“’m okay,” Sharon had slurred. “Don’t need you to look after me. ’m not a baby.”

“You need someone to look after you,” Alaska had snapped, “and that someone is apparently not your boyfriend tonight.”

The few people around them, strangers to Alaska, had let out the cliched ooooh and it had taken all of her power not to groan. She had stared at Chad and waited… but Chad had only stared back at her with a glint in his eye that had made Alaska wonder what was going on inside his head.

“Nothing? You have nothing to say?” Alaska had asked. “He’s fucked up and you stand next to him while snorts coke? I don’t get it. I really don’t get it. Are you fucked up, too?”

But she had known he wasn’t. This had not been the first time she’d wondered about Chad’s enabling of Sharon’s drug problem, but it had been the first time Alaska had seen it as so blatantly evil. Later, she would know ‘evil’ wasn’t the right word, but at the moment, when she herself was tipsy and exhausted, it had been fitting.

“Sharon,” Alaska had said. “Come outside with me.”

Sharon had taken a step as if commanded by impulse, as if the pull of Alaska had not lessened in their years separated, but then she had hesitated. She had looked at Chad, who had shaken his head slightly, a silent plea. Alaska had crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrow at Sharon.

“You need some air,” Alaska had said.

“We’ll go out in a minute,” Chad had said. “Go on, Alaska. We’re good here.”

“Aaron,” Alaska had said. “You need to be outside when that hits.”

That had broken the spell the way the use of their boy-names together always did, and Sharon had finished taking her steps to stand next to Alaska. She had nodded at her in silent surrender which was another sign to Alaska that Sharon was too fucked up that night; if she wasn’t going to give a monologue over these two trying to decide what she needed, that was sign enough that Sharon wasn’t on planet earth. Ground Control to Major Tom… They had turned to go, but Chad had taken Sharon’s arm.

“Don’t go with him,” Chad had said. “Stay with me.”

Sharon had rolled her shoulder to dislodge Chad. “Don’t grab me. I’ll be right back.”

“Aaron,” Chad had said. There had been something in his look that Alaska hadn’t been able to read. “We’ll go out in a minute. Just sit with me.”

“I said I’ll be right back,” Sharon had said slowly, evenly to the point of it being unnerving even to Alaska.

The look Chad had on his face had been so clearly negative, but Alaska had not been able to place the emotion.Whatever it had been though, she had had to look away; looking at him had hurt somehow. It hadn’t been secondhand embarrassment, but it had been close.

Sharon had turned back to Alaska. “Outside? You want to go outside? It’s cold.”

“Oh, you won’t feel it,” Alaska had said dryly. “But you will see the stars.”

“Clear enough tonight?” Sharon had asked. Her voice was like molasses

“I have no idea, but you’re wasted enough that you’ll see them, baby,” Alaska had said. “Give me your hand.”

When she heard the front door of the house slam and Sharon hiss, Alaska stepped back from her painting (and from her memories) to admire her handiwork from the doorway. She had a solid first coat. For a color this dark, she would need at least one more for it to really shine though. Maybe even two more.

“The draft’s really bad,” Sharon said as she walked towards Alaska. “I barely touched the door and it slammed li—oh, wow!”

Sharon stopped behind Alaska and looked over her shoulder. She slipped around her to go to the center of the room and look around. Alaska had shown her the paint swatch and the sample on the wall, but that was nothing to seeing the whole room in the beautiful emerald color. She had never doubted letting Alaska run free with decorating, but seeing the color come to life on the walls had only solidified that it had been a good choice.

“You like it?” Alaska asked.

“I love it,” Sharon said. “We’re going to have to paint the whole house now!”

Alaska bounced on her toes and beamed. “Oh, no, what a shame.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sharon said. “What if we did more rooms in jewel tones like this?”

“Genuinely, do not tempt me,” Alaska said. “The bedroom? The drag room? The living room? I should have started this while you were away filming. That would have been such a good project for me! Damn!”

“You got a kitten-shaped project instead,” Sharon said. She spun back around to face Alaska. “So my question from before still stands: do you want a piano in here? You could take it up again.”

Alaska bit her lip as she smiled. “I think you think a piano is a good idea right now because you are not imagining what that means in reality.”

“I’m hoping it means I’ll smoke and lay on the sofa and listen to you play and sing,” Sharon said. “That sounds great to me.”

“You do love a little weed and a little live music,” Alaska said. “I don’t know. Let me finish painting and get the furniture in here. Then we can see if a piano even would fit.”

Sharon nodded and slipped back out past Alaska again. This time, the pile of things in the shoebox on the kitchen island caught her attention. It was like her eyes had snagged on them, like she’d visually tripped right over them. Chad. She furrowed her brow and as she carded through the miscellaneous items.

“Do you think he wants any of that?” Alaska asked. “It was under all your shit, so it’s been there a long time. I don’t think he’s missing it, but ya know, I figured before we threw it away.”

“I don’t know,” Sharon admitted. “I guess I can send a photo to him and see.”

“Or I can,” Alaska said. “Whatever’s easier.”

Sharon wasn’t sure which would be the better move. Neither would please Chad—unless he really did want this old stuff—but one option at least didn’t have her involved. She tilted her head back and forth in thought before finally aking out her phone to take the picture. While she would be off the hook in theory if Alaska made first contact, in practice, it would just mean both she and Alaska were being forced to talk to Chad because she didn’t doubt Chad would text her about Alaska’s texting him.

“I’ll do it,” Sharon said. “I think he’ll say no, but you’re right that it doesn’t hurt to ask, I guess.” She started typing out a message. “Let the record show you’re better than me though because I would’ve thrown your ex’s shit out.”

“Oh, the record already reflects that I’m better than you,” Alaska said. “Don’t worry.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “You think you’re funny.”

“I know I’m funny,” Alaska corrected. “Hey, while we’re talking about him and without any actual way to ask this well: did he hate me?”

Sharon spun very slowly on her heel to stare at Alaska with her mouth ajar. She had to make the conscious decision to close her mouth at the risk of looking absolutely ridiculous for too long. It wasn’t an unfair question—and it was one that Sharon had expected Alaska to have asked years and years ago, back when she and Chad had still been together—but it had come out of the blue and left Sharon on her back foot.

“No,” she said finally, slowly, carefully. “No, I don’t think he hated you. I think he liked you as a person and performer and, and all of that.”

Alaska nodded. “But?”

“But… I think he hated you in the sense of Sharon-and-Alaska,” Sharon said.

“I can understand that,” Alaska drawled. “I really can. I bet that was hard.”

Sharon looked at her phone—no text back—and then off to the side where their cats slept nearby. She imagined they had wanted to be close to Alaska but not too close to the paint fumes. Cats were so great. So much better than humans. These little furry creatures just loved them unconditionally and only wanted to be close. They could take a lesson from animals. She could take a lesson: just be close and love. Right now, that looked like honesty about Chad, didn’t it? She cleared her throat and shrugged.

“It was probably harder last year when things about us surfaced,” Sharon said. “What made you ask that anyway?”

Alaska shook her head. “Just seeing his things made me think about him and got me wondering.”

Sharon wasn’t totally convinced, but she let it drop in favor of going to make tea. She wanted something stronger, in truth, but she would resist for now. Why she felt the need to hide the extent of Chad’s anxieties when it had come to Alaska was beyond her. Was she protecting Chad, Alaska, or herself? It seemed like it protected Chad mostly—and why the hell would Sharon do something like that now?

“He asked me to cut back with you more than once,” Sharon said. It was easier to say between rooms, with her back to Alaska, with her hands busy opening the box of tea bags and popping them into the dispenser they kept on the counter. “He asked me not to be friends with you, really, and not take your calls, all that.”

“I didn’t know that,” Alaska said from the doorway

“Of course not,” Sharon said. She flexed her fingers to try to push out the creeping numbness that had surfaced. “I didn’t want you to.”

“You didn’t do it.”

Sharon snorted and looked over her shoulder to shoot Alaska a look. “Obviously.”

Alaska saw that for what it was: choosing her over Chad, the man she had thought she’d marry and spend forever with. Her fiancee had asked her to make a concession; and she hadn’t done it. Now, Alaska could see Chad’s facial expression for what it had been: resignation, betrayal, defeat.

Alaska saw Sharon’s choice of staying in contact with Alaska for what it had been—loyalty, love, devotion—just not for Chad.

“Let me do that, baby,” Alaska said as she stepped forward to finish pushing the teabags into the spring-loaded container.

Sharon’s phone buzzed and she turned the screen towards Alaska:

Sharon: [photo of the shoebox of items] Found these in the spare room downstairs. Anything here you need? We’ll mail them to you.

Chad: Throw it away.

Chad: Tell Alaska thanks though.

* * *

In her confessional, Sharon said, “For this week’s maxi challenge, we need to put together a cohesive brand for ourselves that sells our drag, our personality, and our vision.” She stared forward for several seconds before she grimaced. “And of course, I was feeling really great about this until Michelle Visage came to see me.”

“Is it not expected?” Michelle asked.

Sharon had opened her mouth, closed it, and then held up a hand in confusion. Before them was a crude sketch of a poster that would mimic old Hollywood, an array of swatches in blacks, greys, and purples, and a rough outline of a funny proposal. It all was very ‘Sharon Needles’ in that it spoke to the spookiness, the risk-taking, and the dark glamour.

“Isn’t it… supposed to be expected?” Sharon finally asked. “It’s me, right? It’s who I am. It’s branding and— What did I miss?”

“It is you, but you don’t want it to be tired,” Michelle said. “Don’t give us things we’ve seen before. Don’t be safe.”

Michelle had left and the camera zoomed in on Sharon starting down at her vision board with a furrowed brow that left a deep groove on her forehead. She cursed under her breath and swept her arm across her table to push all the materials off it. IT Girl looked up from the sofa at the sound and crossed to Sharon.

“Bad?” IT Girl asked.

“She said it’s expected,” Sharon said. “Safe.”

“It’s branding though,” IT Girl said slowly. “It’s supposed to be who you are and what you’re known for, right?”

Sharon threw up her hands. “Thank you!”

“What are you going to do?” IT Girl asked. She knelt down to pick up the notebooks and put them back on Sharon’s table. “How do you do branding that’s not predictable?”

“Maybe I don’t understand what branding is,” Sharon said absently. “I didn’t really do it before Drag Race, and then after it, I’ve always had people for that. Shit.”

In her confessional, Jinkx said, “I don’t know what Michelle’s looking for because she’s telling me on the money with my weirdo-Broadway branding, but she’s telling Sharon she’s off the mark for her funny-spooky branding. Then she’s unsure about Adore’s street-style femme stuff? Who is going to be top and who is going to be bottom?”

Chapter Text

Sharon walked back into the workroom from her photoshoot and threw her jacket at her table and then kicked her heels at her closet area. She let out a guttural groan. The camera panned to Peppermint, who was sitting on the sofa eating, and her wide eyes and shit-eating grin. She bit her lip to try to stop it but ended up looking down at her food instead.

In her confessional, Peppermint said, “It is so rude to laugh at someone when they are struggling, but Sharon comes in here looking like Kurt Kobain and Elvira’s love child and throwing her clothing? I’m sorry, but you can’t be like that and expect me to keep it together, strange, skeleton man.” A beat. “Shit, I just called her a man on camera. I’m sorry. Aw, she’s gonna call me about this when she sees this.”

The camera stayed on Sharon as she angrily dedragged. There was no other descriptor for it but that. She was angrily taking off earrings and angrily plopping her wig on its form. She reached at her back over and over to try to undo the zipper before she crossed the room to Jinkx.

“Help me,” Sharon said.

Jinkx pulled the zipper down and then grabbed Sharon’s hand before she tried to walk away. She widened her eyes slightly and said, “You’re being crazy.”

“What is branding?” Sharon asked. “Am I really this stupid? Did I miss something? Can someone send me back to Drag U because I think I missed the lesson.”

“What happened?” Jinkx asked.

“They told me I know how to pose, how to work my angles, all that,” Sharon said. She waved her hand as if to suggest that was nothing, “but then kept coming back to it being too expected, that people already know me as the spooky queen who—” Sharon froze and grabbed Jinkx’s other hand now. “Was I supposed to be doing re-branding? Did they want me to do an image refresh on myself?”

Sharon gasped and Jinkx winced as she came to the same conclusion as Sharon: she was supposed to be using this to clean up her image, not to solidify it. Sharon stared at Jinkx a moment longer with her mouth wide open and then walked away to her station. The camera followed her as she stood there, hands on her hips as her unzipped dress slowly crept down her body. She massaged her fingers absently as she stared at into the void.

“Oh, I fucked up,” Sharon said under her breath.

* * *

“Oh, it was a sad moment,” Sharon said to the crowd. She sighed. “Like, the realization hit me when I was talking to Jinkx and it really was one of those body-crushing moments where I realized how badly I didn’t read between the lines.”

She was alone on the stage—and she had already coped with that, thank you very much, so there was no need to dwell on Alaska's lateness—in the Byham Theatre in the heart of Pittsburgh’s cultural district. The episode was shown on the big pull-down screen with the lights out, and during commercials, the lights came up on Sharon lounging on a plush sofa. She sipped from a large goblet and looked generally regal in her long, silver gown that pooled like mercury and her long, flowing black wig..

“You know, I’m not really that good at reading between the lines,” Sharon said. She huffed a laugh. “You have to know how to read to do that.” She smiled and winked at them. “No, but seriously, I’m not good at that when it’s coming at me. In a TV show or movie or book? Sure, I see that subtext! But when I’m one of the actors and I’m supposed to be one of the ana-analysis—” She laughed even as a blush crept up her neck. “Analysts. That’s the word. I’m supposed to be one of the actors and the analysts at the same time? No, darling, it won’t happen.”

* * *

On the day of the runway, Sharon had pushed together two of the work tables and laid out every single accessory she had. Everything! Shoes, bags, wigs, jewelry, scarves, sunglasses, gloves, tights, corsets, bras—everything. She had pulled her garment racks over, too, so she could really look at it all together.

In her confessional, Sharon said, “I asked myself last night, ‘What would Alaska do?’” She stroked one of the snakes on her mesh top. “Because she’d know. I know she’d know what to do in this case.”

Sharon picked up a leather corset and held it out straight in front of her. It had curved boning at the top that would sit right under her breasts to accentuate them. She narrowed her eyes and then put it back down before patting it. She circled the table and picked up a light purple wig. It had an extra for the pastel runway in case she had wanted to go for the cotton candy vibe instead of the monochromatic.

“And Alaska would burn the work room down,” Sharon said in voiceover as the footage continued to show her examining all her drag. “She would get upset first—which I already did yesterday, so I'm ahead of the game—and then she’d start wheeling and dealing. She’d start bargaining. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. She wouldn’t let the challenge win.”

The scene cut to Sharon in her confessional again as she sang in her best Alaska, “Ambition mistaken for snakin’. That’s my sin.” She smirked. The editor made the snakes' eyes on her shirt sparkle briefly. “She’s going to kill me for this.”

Sharon stopped to scan the room, eyeing everyone’s racks. Finally, she crossed the room to Adore and pulled a hanger with a white cotton dress. It was short with a pleated skirt to help with the illusion of hips. She cocked her head to the side.

“Adore, what do you want for this? You can’t get it back if you let me use it.”

“From your stuff?” Adore asked. She grinned. “Ooh, okay. What’s off-limits?”

Sharon led her over to her table of goods and pushed a few items away from the bulk of it. She waved her hand over the rest of it, and Adore’s eyes widened because Sharon was leaving almost everything for her to choose from.

“Bitch, what are you thinking?” Adore asked. “What are you planning?”

“‘What would Alaska do?’” Sharon said.

“What?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

Adore whistled lowly. She looked at the white dress and then looked at Sharon’s clothes. She pulled a black skirt with lacing up the side and laid it over her arm.

“Oh, that’s why you’re a hero,” Sharon said with a snort. “I give you free reign and you take that?”

“What! It seems like a fair trade for that whatever dress!” Adore cried.

“That’s what she’s saying,” Detox said. “You could have taken that really nice corset or that orange jacket, but you matched her.” She smirked. “So sweet, so pure.”

In her confessional, Adore laughed and said, “I still don’t get it. Like, she just wanted a little, white dress. Why would I take her leather? That would be so bad. That’s so rude.”

* * *

As soon as the screen went dark, Alaska stepped out on stage with her heard pounding and head aching from the anxiety of this travel time. She had only arrived a few minutes prior, but the staff had rushed her through the lobby to the staff halls so she could be in the wings waiting for the opening to join Sharon on stage. She had stood there, fixing her jewelry and smoothing out her dress while a stagehand pinned a microphone to her dress. She had flown in drag—literally. Usually, for her, ‘flying in drag’ meant a full beat, but that night, it had meant everything. She had flown from New York to Pittsburgh in full padding, dress, heels, and wig—and oh, that was hard to do alone. She had done it before with Willam and Courtney and on tours, sure, but to be totally alone? It was a whole different feeling not sharing the attention between multiple queens.

But she had made it, and now she strutted across the stage to applause from the audience. She was glad to see Sharon’s eyes light up rather than harden at the sight of her; considering their texts during the debacle, that had not been a given. She made it to the sofa just as Sharon was pulling her legs back to make space for her. Alaska didn’t sit beside Sharon, however; she laid down with her head in her lap and smiled up at her.

“I made it,” she said.

“Just in time for the good part,” Sharon said. “I can’t believe you made it.”

Alaska sat up and adjusted her wig. “Did you explain?”

“No, I just said you couldn’t make it,” Sharon said.

“So I did my Valentine’s show, right?” Alaska said to the audience. “Did a late show last night, did an early show this afternoon. Last show of the tour. Great, fine, no problem. It’s like three hours total to get from that venue to this one.” She nodded slowly. “No pilot. They call the backup. He’s not picking up. They call another one. Can’t. I was starting to trace routes. Could I fly to Philly and over? Could I fly to Cleveland?”

Sharon sipped from her goblet and then offered it to Alaska before comically pulling it back as if it would burn Alaska. She looked at the audience and pulled a face. The audience laughed.

“What? It’s rude to offer alcohol to someone who’s taking a dry spell!” Sharon said.

“Girl, I almost broke it tonight,” Alaska said. “I almost stepped into the rain. I was prepared to thank God for the flood. That was stressful.”

Sharon chuckled and took another sip.

“And I’m going to do this here in front of everyone so Sharon can’t do an I-told-you-so as easily,” Alaska said. “I will never again schedule like this. That was such a stupid choice. Why did I think I could do a show in the afternoon in one city and make it to an evening show in another city without something going wrong? Too tight.”

Sharon said nothing. She just looked out at the audience with a small, smug smile on her face. Self-satisfaction was evident, however.

“Really?” Alaska said.

“I have nothing to say,” Sharon said. She whistled absently. “How’s the weather?”

“Oh, shut up!” Alaska smacked her leg. and pointed up at the screen. “I watched in the car over and then in the wings here. I missed the beginning, but I saw most of it.” She rubbed Sharon’s leg where she had just smacked it. “I like your new mantra.”

“We need to make those Jesus bracelets!” Sharon grinned. “WWAD?”

* * *

“Category is… Best Drag! First up, Jinkx Monsoon!”

Sharon took the stage last. Production had not intended her to go last until they heard what she was planning. They had tried to talk her out of it, but once they realized there was no hope, that she would do it either way—“That’s why you need to be careful booking somebody with very little to lose,” Sharon had told them with a wink—they rearranged the order to put her last. It would be best for clean up. There was only going to be one take possible for this one, too, so they needed to get any the technical bugs out with the others' runways.

“And finally, Sharon Needles!”

Sharon stepped out onto the runway in a cloyingly sweet outfit. She wore Adore’s white dress, of course, and paired it with white lace gloves and collar of white feathers that fanned over her chest and shoulders. The only color, though muted, came from her light purple wig and her makeup. She had painted blonde, fluffy brows and her lips were a dewy, almost natural pink. Her eyes, smoked out with neutrals, seemed bigger than usual and maybe a touch watery as the camera panned over them, but that could be explained away by the lavender-colored contacts with the heart-shaped pupils. Even her cheeks looked bigger than usual as if she had contoured them to look like perfect circles.

It was so jarringly wrong that, for a moment, the judges didn’t say a word.

“Chipmunk realness,” Michelle commented finally.

“I see you, Lavender Luxury,” the guest judge said. “Is she a doll?”

“Oh, a doll!” Carson said. “Yes, I see it.”

“My best drag,” Sharon said in voiceover, “is a hard category to fit because, really, I clawed my way out of the grave just twenty minutes ago. I used scraps last time because I’d never thought I’d make it that far. This time, I was in a real bind, too. I thought that I needed to rethink myself, my drag, my view of the world. I thought—”

At the end of the runway, Sharon stopped, snarled, and then opened her mouth. Fake blood poured out, down her chin, and over her feathered collar. She raised her hands up into the air, looking to the ceiling as if channeling the gods, and then slammed her arms down against her sides and thighs, bursting the blood packets she had taped along her body. The fake blood ran down her, into the pleats of the white skirt, down her legs, and onto her nude pumps.

“Who am I kidding? Don’t change to please the masses, kids,” Sharon’s voiceover continued. “What was that I said the first time? Oh, right: when in doubt, freak ‘em out. That queen knew what she was talking about. I think I lost her at one point trying to be, believe it or not, what everyone else wanted me to be. I’m not your toy. I’m Sharon Needles.”

Sharon crossed to the other side of the runway, leaving a trail in her wake. When she got to that side, she gave a twirl and fake blood cascaded off her. She reached up with her bloodied hands to pull out the lavender contacts to reveal the solid black ones underneath. However, she accidentally pulled out both pairs in her left eye because of the poor dexterity in her left hand. This left her looking even more alarming with one black eye, one blue eye, and smeared blood around both eye sockets.

She giggled airily and started back up the runway to the top of the stage. When she turned back to the judges, it was to rip off her lavender wig and throw it back stage. She shook out her blonde hair and giggled again.

“Much better!” she cried.

She beamed and stepped off stage.

* * *

Sharon pretended to look exhausted and embarrassed by the audience’s applause and cheering, but Alaska knew better than to believe it. During the scene, in the darkness of the theater, Alaska had been able to settle in quite closely beside Sharon and wrap her arm around her. Alaska had watched with her heart in her throat, suffocating her, as Sharon went out with a bang. Sometimes she still couldn't fully understand how Sharon thought. They were so similar in so many ways, but sometimes, they both managed to do something that had the other surprised. When the lights came up, she hadn’t moved out of Sharon's space.

“Thank you, thank you,” Sharon said finally to quiet the crowd.

“Are you sure you weren’t asking yourself ‘What would Willam do?’” Alaska asked. “Because I wouldn’t have taken a shit on the runway.”

Sharon gasped and clutched her imaginary pearls. “You don’t like my art?”

“On the contrary, baby,” Alaska said, “I’m in love with your art. You're a badass.”

“Okay, I'll admit it, you wouldn’t have done it that way, true,” Sharon said.

“It’s ‘What would Alaska do?’ while remaining true to yourself,” Alaska said. She fluttered her eyelashes. “Just like you said you wanted to stay on the show.”

Sharon really had thought about what Alaska would do in the face of failure, and she had come to the conclusion that she’d claw and fight her way to stay. She’d do whatever it took to stay. Sharon didn’t have to win over other queens, not like Alaska had; she had to win over the judges. That hadn’t been on the table once she realized how she’d gotten it wrong in the photoshoot and video. So what’s the next best thing? Be so good, so entertaining, so unexpected, that they can’t send you home. It had been worth a shot.

“She’s not your toy, bitch!” Alaska bellowed. The crowd screamed. “She’s Sharon Needles!”

Sharon leaned over and kissed Alaska without a care for their lipstick.

“I flew all this way in drag and you’re trying to ruin me,” Alaska said, half-heartedly, when they parted. She rubbed at the corner of her mouth. “How’d it feel when you got off stage?”

“Well, Detox was beside herself,” Sharon said, “and so I walked off feeling a little numb and like maybe I’d gone too far this time, but then she was off the wall for me, so that was really good for my head.”

“Detox does love the crazy shit,” Alaska said with a nod.

* * *

“Only four can go to the finale: two heroes, two villains. We’ll say goodbye to one hero and one villain tonight.” Michelle paused. “Let’s start with Sharon Needles.”

The screen that had been rolled to the side flashed with Sharon’s photoshoot and commercial from the day prior. It was what one would expect: vampy, old Hollywood glamour with humor and raunch. There was no question she knew her angles just like they had told her during the shoot.

“Nobody can deny that your look tonight turned heads,” the guest judge said, “which I’m sure was your intent.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Sharon said with a little shrug.

“I didn’t see any of it coming, so that was exciting for me,” the guest judge finished.

“Sharon,” Michelle said.

“Michelle,” Sharon said.

Michelle sighed. “I’m afraid we’re always seeing the same things from you. I’m afraid we’re not seeing you continue to grow in your craft. You’re a great entertainer. You’re talented. You’re funny. You know how to get people to watch.”

“Is this like how Chad Michaels was too polished?” Sharon asked innocently.

Michelle sighed. “It’s like I said: you can be predictable.”

“Michelle, I didn’t see this one coming,” Carson said.  “She’s covered in blood. She bled out on the runway.”

“And she was covered in blood in her first ever Drag Race challenge, and she was covered in blood in post-show shoots, and she was covered in blood at the Anniversary Tour,” Michelle said dryly. “I think she’s said before that she agrees to any shoot that gets her covered in blood.”

“I look really good in blood,” Sharon said. “It’s my best accessory.”

“What do you have to say?” Michelle asked. “Not jokes. Really, Sharon, why should you move forward? You know I love you and how you think, so c’mon, talk to me.”

Sharon was quiet as she looked down the stage at the other queens and then back at the judges panel.

“I should move forward because I did what the challenge asked of me: I created branding that represents my drag,” Sharon said. She pointed to the screen with her photos. “I’m that. I’m this. I’m a punk rock drag queen, and I’m weird and apparently covered in blood a lot. If you sent this roll to someone, they’d know what they’re going to get in my gig.”

“So you don’t think this is safe and predictable for you?” Michelle asked.

Sharon smiled and that only made her all the more unnerving since her teeth were stained red and the dye had made her gums and tongue nearly black.

“Oh, okay,” Carson said aloud. Everyone had to laugh. He covered his mouth. “Sorry.”

“To answer your question, Michelle,” Sharon said, “I don’t think I’ve ever played it safe before in my life, and I don’t think I’m being predictable by being me. Are there other ways to do my genre of drag? Yes, of course, and they’re valid. I met Coco Smoko on tour and got to see how she does spooky drag. What I do is right for me. She couldn’t do mine; I couldn’t do hers.”

Michelle nodded slowly. “Thank you, Sharon.”

* * *

“I didn’t give her what she wanted,” Sharon said with a sigh.

“What did she want?” Alaska asked. She knew the answer, but she knew her role here at the viewing party.

“She wanted me to use that space to confess my sins and ask for penance,” Sharon said. “She wanted me to say I’d gone too far and that I was prepared to pull back.” She chuckled. “Instead, I covered myself and the runway in blood.”

The audience laughed.

“Come through, Carrie!” Alaska cried.

* * *

“Adore Delano, shantay, you stay… and that means, Peppermint, it is time for you to sashay away.”

Peppermint thanked the judges, walked to the back of the runway for her sign-off, and then left the stage. Adore joined Jinkx at the back of the stage to watch the villain verdict. IT Girl and Sharon stepped forward. Sharon kept her chin high and looked down her nose, scowling slightly, while IT Girl looked straight ahead but down towards the judges’ table.

“IT Girl… shantay, you stay,” Michelle said.

IT Girl fell to her knees and let out a shaky, relieved sob. Sharon swallowed and nodded slightly, keeping her eyes forward.

“Sharon Needles, that means it is time for you to sashay away, my queen,” Michelle said.

* * *

The audience booed raucously.

Alaska shushed them. She was holding Sharon’s hands in her lap, face turned up towards the screen watching. She had known. Sharon had told her everything, including what would happen before she got to leave the stage, but to watch it was different.

For her part, Sharon was stoic. Again, how strange to watch oneself like this. How strange to know how her heart had been crushed in that moment, to know that she had felt such shame when she had returned to Alaska without a spot in the finale, and now to feel nothing at all about it. 

* * *

“I want to thank you for the opportunity to come back here,” Sharon said. “Really, when I think of the happiest times in my life, my time on Season 4 is high on the list. Getting to come back and relive that? It means the world to me, thank you.”

Sharon turned towards the pile of IT Girl on the floor and chuckled.

“Kids these days,” she said in her Caitlyn Jenner impression.

She started to walk up the runway, but then she saw IT Girl out of the corner of her eye. Sharon paused and turned in time to be ready for IT Girl to hug her tightly. She laughed, her real laugh, one of surprise, and hugged the queen back. 

“I’m sorry,” IT Girl whispered.

“Hey,” Sharon said. “What? Don’t do that. God, I wouldn’t be sorry to send you home.”

IT Girl laughed and sniffled. “You were right.”

“About what?” Sharon asked. “I mean, yes, I was, thank you.”

“It is hard to go against friends,” IT Girl said sadly.

“Oh my God,” Sharon said. She kissed IT Girl’s forehead. 

IT Girl let Sharon go, and Sharon strutted to the top of the runway and turned to face them all. She looked at the heroes on one side and then the villains on the other, once IT Girl joined Detox, and nodded approvingly. If it couldn’t be her, she was glad it was them. Finally, she looked forward to Michelle and the judges.

“Not bad for a cancelled bitch, eh?” Sharon smirked.

She blew a kiss and then exited the stage to go to the workroom to clean up. She ended up packing her favorite pieces, but she left everything else of value on IT Girl’s table for her. On the other side of the mirror from Peppermint’s message, Sharon wrote, in her own black lipstick:

Bowie said it best already: ‘I'm always amazed that people take what I say seriously. I don't even take what I am seriously.’ I love you ALL! Hail Satan! -Sharon Needles

* * *

“Sharon Needles, everyone!” Alaska cried.

The audience erupted in cheers and clapping. Sharon stood and bowed to them. She stood there, looking out at them for a moment longer before returning to her spot on the sofa with Alaska once more. It was bittersweet, of course, not winning. The sweet part, however, was how this audience had reacted. They were biased, of course, since they were Pittsburghers and fans, but it gave Sharon some hope that the internet would feel similarly. When she turned back to Alaska, it was with glassy eyes. They held each other's gaze for a second, just a second, before Alaska jumped to give Sharon something else to focus on. 

“Okay, so obviously this is your elimination,” Alaska said. “But poor—”

“But poor IT Girl?” Sharon guessed.

“Right?” Alaska’s eyes widened. “I didn’t expect that!”

“I really didn’t either,” Sharon admitted, “but now that I know everything with her season and have seen the fan reception and how other queens talked to and about her? I think I get it.”

Alaska sat back on the sofa as if the thought had pushed her back. Sharon hadn’t known who IT Girl was, but IT Girl had known who Sharon was—and she had watched her and then sought her out. Alaska made a mental note to reach out to IT Girl ahead of the finale.

“I know what that feels like,” Sharon said. “To feel alone like that. I think she felt alone, at least, and I didn’t know her at all, so I was just normal with her.” She smirked. “I would’ve been anyway."

“You would have made scissors jokes,” Alaska said.

The audience chuckled.

“Okay, yes,” Sharon said. She shrugged. “I would have done that. I think she just needed a friend.”

Alaska sat forward again and turned her body towards Sharon. “You did amazing. That run? I’m so proud of you. Three challenge wins? And then only truly in the bottom this one time?”

Sharon smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“So proud of you,” Alaska repeated. “Is there anything else you want to say? Something you didn’t get to say this season yet?”

“Ah…” Sharon looked up as if in thought. “No, I think I said it all.” She gasped. “Is that a first?”

Alaska grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. “What a win for America tonight, folks!”

“Should we give ‘em a number, Lasky?” Sharon asked. The audience screamed. “Yours or mine?”

“Yours,” Alaska said.

Sharon popped up and her music started. She walked across the stage and bounced with the beat.

“You got that thing that I need, a cut above the rest. You've got me on my knees. Uh-huh I must confess, I'm gonna bump it back, yeah," Sharon sang

Alaska shimmied her shoulders and bounced on the sofa. This hadn't been the one Sharon had talked about doing before, but she had missed the pre-show walkthrough, so she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised by a change. It was a catchy, risque number. Very easy to dance to, so Alaska was happy with it.

"Oh my God, hot diggity-dog, you've got that right stuff, and that's what I need," Sharon continued. She crossed back to Alaska and got on her knees before her. "Me oh my, that's just what I like cause you're my type. Yeah, I like a tight squeeze."

"I think this is an all-ages show, Sharon," Alaska warned quickly as she gave the audience a look.

The audience laughed (thankfully), and Sharon did, too, even as she kept singing. 

"Super, super-duper size queen," Sharon sang. "Super, super super-size me. Just can't get enough. You got that hot, hot, hot stuff."

As she performed and Alaska beamed at her, Sharon remembered just how damn lucky she was. She had thought she’d feel worse about being eliminated, about having everyone know, but she was oddly at peace. What a wonderful life.

* * *

In their bedroom, with only the light of the street lamps casting through their windows and the sounds of whatever playlist Alaska had left on downstairs filtering up the stairs, that was where Sharon made it known how grateful she was for Alaska. She kissed goosebumps into Alaska’s skin. They erupted under every brush of her lips, every lick of her tongue, every graze of her teeth. Sharon pressed a kiss against Alaska’s hipbone and then slid back up her to kiss her mouth.

“Don’t tease me, baby,” Alaska drawled.

“Don’t rush me, Lask,” Sharon murmured against her lips..

There were nights where sex was fast and rough and loud and messy. That was familiar for them both. A callback to their younger, wilder years where that had been what sex was almost every time thanks to substance abuse and the follies of youth. Then there were nights where they dragged out foreplay to the point where the main event seemed like it might never happen; but when it did, they’d both agree afterwards that they ‘have to do it like this more often.’ Patience, however, made that difficult, so they usually fell somewhere in between the two types.

“I’m not rushing you,” Alaska whined. She canted her hips up to press her erection against Sharon’s thigh. “He’s rushing you.”

“Please do not talk about your penis like it is sentient,” Sharon said as she kissed along Alaska’s jaw. “I ask for so little.”

Alaska giggled. “You ask for so little and yet I want to give you something so big.”

“Please stop talking,” Sharon teased. She kissed her Adam’s apple. “So very handsome, so very hung, so very stupid after all your travel and performing today.”

“That’s why you should blow me and fuck me,” Alaska whispered. “I deserve it.”

As Sharon returned to kissing down Alaska’s abdomen, Alaska watched through her lashes. She was covered in lipstick and glitter thanks to Sharon—they hadn’t bothered to get out of drag when they got home; they had just snacked, put on music, and kept their own little, intimate party going—and that always sent a shiver through her. Not every drag queen enjoyed a kaikai, and Alaska could respect that, but that didn’t mean she had to understand it.

“I don’t understand,” Sharon muttered as she slid down between Alaska’s legs, “how there are gay men who won’t do this.”

“I don’t either,” Alaska said. Her head lolled back. “Now sssh, don’t… don’t, ah, talk with your mouth full.”

* * *

They had stepped outside the club without much issue. Meaning, only two people stopped them to chat on their way out, but Alaska had long since become adept at maneuvering Sharon through an unwanted conversation—unwanted, on Alaska’s side, of course; Sharon had rarely met a conversation she didn’t want. But they had made it outside! Success! The cold air would do wonders for them both.

“A fountain,” Sharon had said before she stepped right into the road to go to the plaza across from the club.

“Why? Why? Why are you like this?” Alaska had asked as she hurried to keep up with Sharon. She had grabbed her elbow to keep her close. “What is with you and water?”

“Not all of us grew up on a huge lake, Lasky,” Sharon had said.

“This is a fountain,” Alaska had said dryly. “They had fountains in Newton.”

“No, no, no fountains, no,” Sharon had said.

Alaska had hesitated. On one hand, Sharon could just be saying that to be stubborn, but on the other hand, from all that she had heard about that town, there was a very good chance that there hadn’t been a fountain. Regardless, she hadn’t actually intended to keep Sharon away from the fountain; she only wished she’d look both away before stepping into the street.

“Sit down,” Alaska had said when they were safely in front of the fountain.

Sharon hadn’t fought that one. She had laid down, in fact, on the edge of the fountain to stare up at the sky. As Alaska had promised, there were stars. With the mist from the fountain and the glow of the streetlamp, there was a rainbow, too. Sharon had smiled and tucked her arm under her head.

“Why out here?” Sharon had asked.

“Because when that line hits, you’re going to be dripping with sweat and you might throw up depending on everything else in you,” Alaska had said. “And it’s cold out here and we don’t have to clean up out here.”

Sharon had hummed. “Sound logic.”

“What else did you take, sweetheart?” Alaska had tried again.

“I don’t know anymore,” Sharon had admitted. “Chad knows. Chad’ll know.”

“Chad doesn’t tell me things.” Alaska had sighed. It would have been nice to be able to partner with Chad in keeping Sharon together, but apparently Chad had not held that same desire. “I think Chad’s going to be upset you came out here with me.”

It had taken Sharon a moment, but she finally focused her eyes on Alaska’s face with the sole purpose of giving her a look. She then had rolled her eyes and looked back up at the sky. Alaska had to laugh because, if she didn’t, she’d cry. She had sat down on the edge of the fountain by Sharon’s feet. She had patted Sharon’s ankles for two reasons: the first was to soothe, the second was to check her body temperature.

“Don’t care,” Sharon had said.

“You need to care,” Alaska had said. “He’s your fiancee. You love him.”

“Doesn’t mean he tells me who my friends are or…” Sharon had said. “Or where to go or to go with or… or where to go.”

Alaska had tried to stop herself from smiling, but she had failed.

“Did I already say that?” Sharon had stage-whispered.

“Oh, yeah,” Alaska had stage-whispered back. “You should apologize to him when we go back inside.”

“Why are you mad at him? You yelled.”

“Did I yell?”

Sharon had hummed. “Felt like yelling. Why?”

“Hey, Sharon,” Alaska had said. “What is with you and water?”

Just as Alaska had hoped, Sharon had taken the bait and said, “Look, we didn’t all get to grow up on the beach, Alaska.”

Alaska had nodded. “Of course.”

Sharon had fallen quiet again but had started to sweat profusely, so Alaska at least had known the coke was hitting. Maybe she would get Sharon in a cab back to the hotel after this. It would all depend on which Sharon greeted her after the high: the pliant one or the one itching for another.

“Do you ever miss me?” Sharon had asked.

Alaska’s eyes had grown two sizes and she had blinked hard. “What?”

“Do you ever miss me?”

“How could I miss you? I’m never away from you.” Alaska had grinned.

“I mean it,” Sharon had asked. “I mean it, Justin.”

Alaska’s chest had hurt at the question, at the answer, but she had whispered, “Yeah, I miss you sometimes,” even though it had been a poor idea.

“Are you going to ask me?” Sharon had whispered.

“No,” Alaska had whispered. “I shouldn’t know that answer, and you shouldn’t give me that answer. You have Chad.” She leaned forward. “Aaron, you have Chad.”

Suddenly, the spray of the fountain and the car alarm in the distance and the music from the club had all seemed so loud—and they had to whisper to avoid adding to it. Why did it always get so loud in the cover of the night? Why did the moon amplify it all?

“I have Chad,” Sharon had repeated.

Sharon had Chad—had she been reminding Sharon or herself?—and Alaska had her pounding heart and sick stomach. However, there had been no chance to do anything stupid because Sharon had taken care of that for her… by rolling into the fountain. Alaska had shrieked and reached into it to pull Sharon up, expecting to see her unconscious or vomiting or something when she got her head above water, but instead, she was grinning ear to ear.

“That feels incredible!” Sharon had cried happily. “Get in here.”

“Absolutely not, you maniac!” Alaska had said. “Give me your hands! Out! You’re going to catch your death!”

“Catch my death? Are you eighty?” Sharon had laughed.

Instead of getting out, Sharon had crawled away from Alaska, laughing, and Alaska had circled the fountain after her. The question had been forgotten—and Alaska had been sure that Sharon had forgotten all about it in the end anyway because she never mentioned it again, not once.

But in their bed, in the early light the morning after Sharon’s elimination from Heroes vs Villains and in the glow that still clung from good sex, Alaska knew what Sharon would have said if she had asked her. She knew that Sharon would have said she missed her, too, and Alaska knew they would have made a critical mistake.

That’s what it would have been then: a mistake. Some might have thought it would have been their chance at Round 2 sooner, but Alaska knew who she had still been then. More importantly, she knew who Sharon had still been then. They would not have made it. This never would have happened the right way. She’d be in Los Angeles still, no doubt, with some other ‘nice’ man who would break her heart or whose heart she’d break.

There would be no Wax and Dorothy curled up between their legs. There would be no green den. There would be no Greece trip. There would be no writing a play together. There would be no slow Pittsburgh mornings. There would be no family gatherings together in Erie. There would be no Pittsburgh Pride traditions. There would be no funny, romantic numbers at gigs together. There would be no kisses in the kitchen. There would be no silly French encounters at the bakery. There would be no plans for music videos. There would be no dancing down the sidewalk in their neighborhood. There would be no—

“I can hear you thinking,” Sharon said. Her voice was muffled by the pillow. “Why are you spiraling so early?”

“Ssh, go back to sleep. I’m sorry,” Alaska whispered.

“Is it early?” Sharon murmured.

Sharon rolled onto her side and shimmied backwards until Alaska was forced to spoon her. Not that it was a hardship for Alaska. She wrapped her arm around her and let out a long, contented sigh.

“Very,” Alaska whispered into Sharon’s hair.

“How early?”

“Mm…” Alaska reached behind herself to find her phone to check the time. “Little after six-thirty.”

Sharon said nothing for several seconds, maybe even an entire minute, and Alaska was sure she’d dozed off again. This was why it was so shocking when Sharon had rolled over to look at her with mostly-clear eyes. Alaska gently kissed her forehead right between her eyebrows in silent apology.

“Let’s get up,” Sharon said.

Alaska laughed breathily. “Why?”

“Let’s get coffee and walk to the Cathedral.”

“That’s a thirty minute walk, baby.”

“I’m sorry, do you have somewhere to be?” Sharon smirked. “I was eliminated last night. I get to decide what we do.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see how long you’re going to milk this for all its worth,” Alaska said dryly. She patted Sharon’s bare hip and it made a satisfying smack even just from the light touch. “Unfortunately, if I look anything like you do right now, then you know we have to shower first.”

Sharon rolled away briefly to grab her phone and then rolled back to Alaska. She held it up to take a selfie of them in all their smeared lipstick, smudged eyeliner, and glittery glory. It wasn’t a bad shot, really, especially considering their state and the hour. She opened Instagram to create a post for her story with the caption the dangers of a kaikai and a tag for Alaska.

“This okay?” Sharon asked.

Alaska, who had been watching the whole thing, of course, since they were essentially sharing the same lungs at this closeness, smiled. “That’s okay.”

Chapter Text

@theonlyalaska5000: Instagram Post

“Now that The Episode has aired, there’s a lot to say. I’ve got a lot of thoughts on how she prepared for HvV, how she conducted herself on the show itself, how the other queens treated her, how she won three maxi challenges and a mini challenge (!!!). But for right now, I just need to say three things to @sharonneedlespgh: I’m proud of you always. I’m impressed by you always. I love you always. #atleastoutloud”

The carousel included photos and videos leading up to Sharon’s leaving to film. The first is of Sharon holding the pastel pink patent leather up to her body and sticking her tongue out at Alaska who grins in the background as she takes the photo in the mirror.

The next photo shows Sharon sitting on their floor, Wax in her lap, surrounded by fabrics, papers, an iPad, and an open computer. She is looking at the computer and in mid-speech.

The third is a video. The camera is set up like it was just meant to capture the room, like maybe they were going to create a time-lapse from it. It shows a few of their friends sitting around and helping with various little tasks. Vivaldi plays in the background. Sharon is heard explaining the vision of the Four Seasons to someone. Alaska prances into the room from the kitchen with a tray. She puts it down and then dramatically offers her hand to Sharon, who looks over at her with a surprised smile. She gives her hand and Alaska pulls her up to ballroom dance with her around their living room, into the kitchen, and back into the living room to Vivaldi. Nobody gives them a second look.

The fourth is another photo, a selfie: one of Alaska talking to somebody on Sharon’s phone while Sharon snaps this photo with Alaska’s phone. They are in a design studio. In the background, Sharon’s paper dresses stand in various stages of completion. Sharon is only in her underwear as she stands next Alaska and licks her cheek. Alaska’s face is screwed up in half-smile-half-scream.

The fifth slide is another video. They are in a different studio and Alaska is filming Sharon, Alaska’s assistant, and a designer across the room as she crosses to them quickly. Sharon is laughing while the other two are making concerned sounds. The assistant says, “And you couldn’t feel that?” and Sharon says, “I can’t feel anything with them most of the time.” Alaska turns the camera on Sharon’s left palm; her three fingers are swollen and purple-red and there is a large cut on the meat of her thumb. Alaska hisses. “Baby, what happened?” She pans up to Sharon’s face to catch her shaking her head and saying, “Well, it’s funny, but I just learned that exacto knives are sharp and this tweed Julien was letting me play with is really thick! Bad combination for a cripple!”

The final one is a candid someone took of Sharon and Alaska in their drag room. Sharon is wearing a full face of makeup, the same beat she had for the teenage dream runway, but is wearing her boy-clothes. They both sit at their side-by-side vanities, turned in towards each other with their knees touching. Alaska has Sharon’s hands in hers in her lap and is clearly saying something very serious from how they are looking at each other.

* * *

The walk to the Cathedral of Learning wasn’t too bad at all. It was cold, sure, and they definitely hadn’t had enough sleep lately, but they walked slowly and fought through the yawns valiantly. Alaska wasn’t sure if Sharon’s final goal was to go inside or not, but it didn’t matter to her; it was Sharon’s day—weekend, week, month? How long would Sharon claim ‘I got eliminated’ as a reason to have her way? How long would Alaska let her get away with it? Well, if it encroached on Alaska’s March birthday, that would be too far; she’d have to put a stop to it then.

It was an unusually clear February morning with very few clouds, so naturally, the Cathedral, in all its modern-gothic fusion goodness, looked superimposed on the skyline. Alaska watched it grow bigger and bigger the closer they got until they were on the snowy lawn staring up at it. Behind them, up the tree-lined path, Heinz Chapel with its soaring spire and more traditionally gothic points was bustling with activity. There was a wedding, so bridesmaids in deep purple dresses and fur stoles were crawling around while groomsmen in thin suits pretended the weather was bracing.

“I want to see in there sometime,” Sharon said, nodding to the church.

“I hear they only let people who went to Pitt get married there,” Alaska said.

“Is that true?” Sharon wrinkled her nose. “That seems like bad business. Why turn away customers?”

“I don’t know,” Alaska admitted. “That’s just what people always said when I was at Pitt. Maybe it’s not true.”

Sharon gave it another long glance and then turned to keep walking. On east side of the Cathedral, there was the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, the Carnegie Museum of Art, and the Carnegie Library. They might as well have called it the Carnegie Complex! (Alaska paused; maybe they did.) Outside stood a massive statue of a dinosaur, a diplodocus. He was affectionately called Dippy, and Alaska wasn’t sure if he was true to size, but he might as well have been. The best part about Dippy was the huge scarf the museum wrapped around his neck up by his head. Embarrassingly, or perhaps sweetly, when Alaska had been a Pitt student, she had always take a bit of joy in scarfing of the dinosaur. That hadn’t changed as she looked up at him now with a fond smile.

“Hail to Pitt, Dippy,” Alaska said with a little salute.

“Oh, look!” Sharon said. She pointed to the green space across from the museum and library; the little waffle stand was open. “Let’s see how much they love or hate the woke, liberal swill in this city.”

“How will we decide that?” Alaska asked as she tried to fight a smile at the ludicrousness. Sharon was in a much better mood than Alaska could have ever anticipated.

“By if they have anything gluten-free for you,” Sharon said. “Go save us that bench. I’ll be right back with drinks and hopefully waffles for two.”

‘Save us that bench’ made Alaska laugh. It was so early; the college kids weren’t going to be out yet to fight them for it—and in the cold, no less! But she went to the bench anyway. She took out her phone and answered her mother’s text from last night which apparently meant it was time for a call. Alaska glanced at the waffle stand—Sharon was behind two other people—and decided to take the call. She had a bit of time to chat.

“Hi, Mom,” Alaska said.

“Hi, Justin, how are you, baby?” Pam said.

“I’m good, I’m good,” she said. “Got back in to Pittsburgh last night. Crazy travel day, but I made it! Never again. Both shows went really well though. What are you up to?”

“I wanted to pass along my condolences to Aaron,” Pam said.

Alaska raised her eyebrows and hummed in surprise.

“Well, that’s a shame to go home right before the end,” Pam explained. “Tell him he did a good job for me.” A beat. “Is he there?”

“He’s getting us drinks and—” Alaska began.

Pam gasped. “Oh my God. Are you still out?”

“Are we still—Mother, no!” Alaska laughed. “Dear God. No, we’re not ‘still out.’ We’re newly out. We’re in Oakland on a walk. He’s getting us waffles and, and I’m hoping a hot chocolate for me if we’re being reeeaal.”

“Well, ‘getting drinks’ and after all those shows and the episode,” Pam said. “And texting me so early! I had to make sure!” She laughed though and Alaska could imagine her shaking her head at the idea. “Will he know to get you a hot chocolate?”

“Does my boyfriend know that I like hot chocolate? Yeah, Mom, I think he knows,” Alaska said. While there was no bite to her words, there was no denying the warning in them. “This just a call to chat or…?”

“Oh, I wanted to put on your radar that your brother and Brittany set a date for the christening this spring. Do you think you’ll make it?”

“So long as it’s not in May,” Alaska said, “I can probably make it.”

“No, it’s April,” Pam said. Alaska could hear papers rustling. “I had the day written here somewhere. Ugh, well, I’ll text it to you. What’s in May?”

“A vacation to Greece,” Alaska said with a smile and a dreamy sigh. “Two weeks. We’re still figuring out the details.”

For a moment, Pam was silent and then she said, “Please do not marry this man.”

Dread flooded Alaska and left her woozy. Why now? Why start this now?

“Who said anything about marriage?” Alaska asked. “I know he didn’t say anything to you.”

Others might have thought their mother’s bringing this up was a sign their partner had said something, but Alaska knew Sharon better than that. There was not a world where Sharon would go ask her mother’s permission to marry her. (Thank God.)

“Nobody had to say anything about it,” Pam said carefully. “It’s what he does, right? Isn’t that what you always said? He’s a romantic even with all his issues with relationships. You’re going on this big vacation after getting back together and after all his professional success. Is he paying for it? I bet he is; he won all those challenges.” She sighed. “He’s going to want to lock you down this time. I just need you to think about it hard if he asks you on that trip.”

“We’re not looking at marriage,” Alaska hissed even though Sharon was still several yards away and would never hear her. “We’re looking at Santorini and nude beaches and, and, and really good food and wine.” A beat. “But should that ever be on the table one day, you’ve made your opinions known, thank you.”

Pam was quiet. “I’m your mother. I’m allowed to worry.”

“And I’m a full-grown man,” Alaska said.

“I know, I know,” Pam said.

“Then I need you to stop,” she said. She sighed. “Send me the christening date. If we’re not working, we’ll be there. I only have one weekend  in April where I’m due in L.A. to film with Willam, but otherwise, I’m open. I don’t know what Sharon’s got.”

Sharon was walking back now with a drink tray and bag. She tilted her head up in acknowledgment and Alaska lifted her hand in response.

“Okay, he’s coming back with our food,” Alaska said. “Glad we could have this talk first thing in the morning at the start of my day.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Pam said. “I love you, bye.”

Alaska slid her phone back into her coat pocket—and imagined sliding all the negativity with it because she didn’t want that ruining their day—and smiled up at Sharon when she got to her. Sharon sat down on the bench and set about handing Alaska her drink, a hot chocolate, and then pulling out one of the containers. She opened it—the Liege waffle had speculoos spread and sliced strawberries and bananas on it—and nodded before handing it over to Alaska.

“I guess Waffleonia does accept the liberal swill of Pittsburgh?” Alaska grinned.

“I took a beating,” Sharon said. “Many jokes were made at my expense by the man ahead of me waiting for his order and the employee. The battles I go through for you, my love.”

“They are not lost on me, my brave knight,” she said. She sipped the hot chocolate and hummed. “Thank you.”

“Who were you talking to?” Sharon asked.

“My mom,” Alaska said. “She wanted to tell me about my nephew’s christening date. Oh, and she watched the episode and wanted me to pass along that you did really well and she’s sorry.”

Sharon hummed around her bite of waffle and shrugged a shoulder. Unexpected. She wouldn’t question it though; maybe there was a chance Pam was coming around just a bit. She nodded and held her hand over her mouth to speak.

“When’s the christening?”

“April something,” Alaska said. “You don’t have to come.”

“Would you want me to come?” Sharon asked.

Alaska narrowed her eyes at Sharon over the lid of her cup. “I… would.”

“Then I’ll come if I can,” Sharon said. “It didn’t go bad last summer or at Christmas.”

“No, it didn’t,” Alaska agreed with a little smile. She could hear her mother’s voice still—please do not marry this man—but she ignored it. It had gone well at Christmas. They’d played games with her siblings and nieces and nephew. They’d all gone out and had a swell time at a local bar where Alaska introduced Sharon to old high school friends. “I hope it’s not the weekend I’m in L.A.”

They ate their waffles and talked idly about the people walking by them, the unusual amount of snow they had gotten this year considering climate change, the progress on the den remodeling, the classical music they could vaguely hear. When Alaska finished eating, she took their trash to the nearby bin, and when she turned back, it was to find Sharon gone. Alaska’s heart dropped. She spun around and saw her walking down the sidewalk towards… of course, towards the homeless man who played the violin, a staple in Oakland.

“I would expect nothing else,” Alaska said under her breath.

She jogged down the sidewalk to catch up to Sharon, who was now talking enthusiastically with the man.

“We could hear you over there while we were eating,” Sharon was saying, “and that’s just a really nice way to enjoy the morning, you know?” She reached into her pocket for her wallet and pulled out the few dollars she had. “Go get some vodka or something.”

Alaska gasped. “Aaron.”

But the man laughed and held his hand out to Sharon to shake before he said, “Thank you. Happy Valentine’s Day, faggot.”

Alaska had to laugh even though a jolt of panic passed through her because it was so unreal. She looked up at the sky and then over at Sharon who was laughing, too. Valentine’s Day had passed, but it was the thought that counted. Sharon winked at the man and then took Alaska’s hand to lead her away from the homeless man.

“Does that make you nervous?” Alaska asked.

“Which part?” Sharon asked. “Well, actually, I guess it doesn’t matter because, no, I’m not nervous right now.”

Alaska didn’t understand Sharon’s fears. She knew Sharon was easily scared, both in the deep sense and in the surface sense, but she couldn’t always predict what would get her. She startled easily when people touched her. She didn’t like going downstairs in the middle of the night. She checked behind the shower curtain at home. She checked behind bus curtains on tour. Yet she forgot to lock the house sometimes and she had no problem going right up to homeless people. She didn’t blink at slurs hurled her way. Alaska knew that was because of how Sharon had lived as a teen and twenty-something—logically, she knew that—but she still couldn’t piece it together and make it make sense.

“What now?” Alaska asked.

“Let’s go to the Warhol,” Sharon said. “They have that new exhibit on Basquiat.”

Alaska took out her phone to summon an Uber, and Sharon leaned in to kiss her ear, her cheek, her jaw. Alaska scrunched up her shoulder even as she smiled. When she finished, she turned her head to kiss Sharon’s lips.

* * *

When Sharon’s phone rang and she saw it was Chanel, her old friend from her time on Season 4, she pushed to her feet. Alaska, who was putting together a desk, watched her with blatant interest, but Sharon just shook her head and waved it off. Not important. Alaska nodded and turned back at the task at hand. Sharon, however, took the call through the kitchen and into the living room; she would have gone out the front door if she hadn’t thought Alaska would grow suspicious and follow her.

“Hello, hello,” Sharon said as she answered it, trying to sound as animated and normal and possible. “How are you, darling?”

“I’m doing so well, thank you!” Chanel said. “How are you holding up?”

“With what?” Sharon smirked.

Chanel laughed. “Point taken. Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

“So what’s going on with you?” Sharon asked. “How’s, uh, what’s his name?”

While her voice was completely neutral, just her usual voice, if Alaska had walked out right now, she would have found Sharon standing in the middle of the room and staring at the doorway at her which surely would not have done anything for Sharon’s attempts to act natural. It was just that Sharon would not allow herself to be surprised by Alaska’s coming into the room—not when this was the phone call that came after an ‘I have some intel’ text.

“Are you alone?” Chanel asked.

“Uh, sort of,” Sharon said. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem though.”

“Okay.” Chanel let out a long sigh. “So I have a friend who works in casting, and he said that there’s a list floating around right now of who is going to be called for All-Winners 2.”

Sharon closed her eyes briefly. She had known it was going to be this. From the out-of-the-blue text, she had known in her heart that Chanel was going to tell her something about this. She also knew that it was going to break her heart. Sharon let out a whoosh of breath and nodded to herself.

“Okay, tell me more,” she said.

“She’s not on the list.”

Sharon’s heart sank like she knew it would. Even though she had anticipated it, had been silently vibrating with anxiety over this call all morning while Alaska had talked about the damn den, Sharon still wasn’t prepared for the hollowness she felt now as shards of her heart fell deep down inside her. Sharon turned around to pace the living room and ended up at the window with her forehead on the molding.

“Aaron?”

“I hear you,” Sharon said with a sigh. “I just want to know… are they crazy? Like, are they seriously insane?”

“I know,” Chanel said. “I know, and I was saying to him that they’re throwing away a really great chance at really great TV again over, over what?”

“A grudge. Over hurt feelings. I can’t imagine being that petty and—and, hello? It’s me,” Sharon said. She laughed bitterly and pushed away from the windowsill to turn back to the doorway. Still no Alaska thankfully. “Hurting their own interests in the name of pettiness.”

“Right? It’s not like it’s Willam or Courtney or—ya know, she does keep mixed company. I guess I could have included you in that company, but they took you back,” Chanel said with a chuckle.

“Me back before…” Her.

“Alaska’s an icon in the drag world. I really don’t get it honestly. It’s like you said: they’re hurting themselves by not calling her.”

“Look, girlfriend, I’m going to need a name and number,” Sharon said.

“Aaron, that isn’t a good idea,” Chanel said slowly. “You’re not even supposed to know this.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “I’m not supposed to do a lot of things, but I do it anyway.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything, both waiting for the other to break. Finally, Chanel sighed. Sharon smiled because she knew winning when she felt it.

“I’ll get him in contact with you,” Chanel promised. “I can’t give you his stuff, but I’ll make sure he contacts you. There’s still time. It’s so early, ya know?”

Sharon hummed but said nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Chanel said. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“No, it’s not. Not at all,” Sharon agreed absently. “Do you know the whole thing?”

Chanel hesitated before saying, “The whole list? I do.”

“Can you tell me the answer to my obvious question?”

“You’re not on the list,” Chanel said. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Sharon said.

Chanel laughed, but when she realized Sharon wasn’t laughing, she fell quiet.

“That would have been very bad, very, very bad,” Sharon said carefully, “and I am not looking for trouble.”

“Jealousy?” Chanel suggested.

“Is a killer in this industry,” Sharon finished, “and you remember that.”

Jealousy had destroyed them before, and it could destroy them again if they weren’t careful. Sharon would have slit her wrists before she would have gone on All-Winners 2—with or without Alaska. They had been very serious in her casting for Heroes vs Villains when they said they wouldn’t do a season together.

“Then I’m glad I can tell you that neither of you are on the list,” Chanel said softly. “But I wish I had better news.”

“Just do what you said you’ll do, and we’ll be fine, darling,” Sharon said. “Thank you.”

They chatted a bit longer about anything and nothing, just to fill out the conversation, before hanging up. Sharon scrubbed her hands over her face and nodded slowly.

Alaska wasn’t on the list.

They had sat down with the list of winners who hadn’t been on the first one, and nobody had written her name down. Nobody had fought for her. Maybe somebody had put her name forward, but they didn’t fight for her. Didn’t fight for Alaska! It was ludicrous!

Sharon sighed and walked back into the den to see that Alaska had finished the desk and had pushed it into the corner by the window. Sharon sat down at it and huffed a laugh as Dorothy leapt up onto the desk and then stepped into the windowsill. No wonder Alaska wanted it here.

“I can see you here writing, plotting,” Sharon said. She hoped she sounded more normal than she felt.

Alaska grinned and flopped onto the sofa against the adjacent wall. “And I can see you here bugging the hell out of me.”

Briefly, anger bubbled up in Sharon. Alaska was going to say that Sharon ‘bugged the hell out of her’ when she was about to start a quiet campaign behind the scenes for her? Oh, was that too annoying for Alaska? But Sharon tamped it down. Alaska was only messing with her, and logically she knew that—and moreover, Alaska didn’t know what Sharon was thinking or feeling. It wasn’t Alaska’s fault that Sharon’s mood had plummeted. She needed to rally before Alaska did catch onto her mood though.

“Still think there’s no room for a little piano in here?” Sharon asked.

Alaska got up from the sofa to eye the room. There were going to be shelves beside the desk at the window. There was going to be an end table on the other side of the sofa. They had several pieces of Alaska’s art to hang. They had two crowns to display. They had records to hang, too—so many records between the two of them. There were Alaska’s Queerties for the shelf. There was Sharon’s key to the city, too. But maybe a piano would work in this room…

“Show me it again,” Alaska said.

Sharon’s smile could only be called smug as she pulled the photo up on her phone of the small, white piano that was covered in spray paint art: neon pink, lime green, cerulean, a majestic purple, metallic gold! It was a glorious piece, and Sharon thought it would create a perfect contrast to the rest of the room. The luxe green walls, their edgy album artwork and records, their crowns, the other little awards and (Violet) tchotchkes—and then this piano? Phenomenal.

“Who was on the phone?” Alaska asked. She took Sharon’s phone to zoom in on the piano. “It really is stunning.”

Sharon knew that it must have been killing her not to know and she privately applauded Alaska’s attempts at being casual.

“Just Chanel,” Sharon said. “Telling me about this guy we used to know who’s just being stupid.” She fluttered her hand in the air. “Gossipy, you know.”

Alaska must have been satisfied because she handed the phone back and walked across the room to the wall beside the doorway. She stared at it for a moment and then turned back to Sharon.

“A piano here?” she asked. “Do you think?”

“I’m bidding on the piano,” Sharon said in response.

“On that one? That’s so expensive though, baby,” Alaska said.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s art.”

“Happy birthday,” Sharon said as she put the bid in. “Let’s see if I win and if it’ll get here in time for the actual day. Not so sure that last part is possible.”

Alaska took a few long strides to cross the room and sit on Sharon’s lap, forcing Sharon to wrap an arm around her to keep her steady. She ran her hands through her hair and watched as she did, indeed, bid on the piano.

“We’ll have to use those piano-mover services,” Alaska said with a snort.

“Oh my God,” Sharon said. “We’ll finally get to figure out if those piano-mover services are really just a front! How many pianos could really need to be moved for there to be a whole business centered around it?”

“Ah, if I could go back in time and tell our younger selves that we’d figure out that mystery…” Alaska laughed and leaned in to kiss Sharon’s cheek. “Those crazy kids wouldn’t believe it.”

“That we could afford a piano? No, they definitely wouldn’t,” Sharon agreed.

As Sharon finished entering her information for the bidding, she thought about the call with Chanel. How could anyone ever think to blot out this sunlight? And as Alaska watched, she thought about the call with her mother the other day. How couldn’t her mother see the new reality?

* * *

“Are you kidding me?” Sharon said with a laugh. “Oh, I was never going to win!”

The interviewer’s eyes bulged in shock at how cavalier Sharon was being. “You didn’t think you’d win?”

“I thought I could win,” Sharon said. “I thought the package I brought was good and that I represented myself well. That’s not what I’m saying. Listen.” She paused for emphasis. “I could win. I wasn’t going to win.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked.

Sharon huffed one of her spooky giggles and shook her head as she picked up her cocktail. She sipped it and then put it back down with a flourish before picking up the nearby hand mirror to check her lipstick, anything to make this dense man wait. She curled her lip in the mirror and then set it down before turning her attention back to the man across from her. She had agreed to the interview while in Los Angeles for the finale, but she was starting to grow bored with it. Was this not so obvious to everyone?

“Do you really think that the next winner to get a second crown is going to be me?” Sharon asked with a smirk. “You think they gave a second crown to Jinkx Monsoon, and then they said, ‘Do you know who will get the next one? Sharon Needles!’”

“At one point, that would not have been out of the question,” the interviewer said. “I think you could have been our first double-winner in another timeline.”

“Is it 2017?” Sharon asked. When the man said nothing, she held up a hand. “Is it?”

“No.”

“Then, no, I was not going to win that crown,” Sharon said. “Not even a crown meant for villains.” She sipped her drink and hummed around the rim of the glass. “Now, I’m biased, but if they were smart, they’d make it Alaska. She should be the next double-winner. I can’t think of someone who would be better suited. She doesn’t deserve it; she earns it.” She groaned and smiled. “Oh, I should be careful. People hate when I say that she didn’t deserve something. They always think it’s shade. I don’t know what they don’t get about it. She doesn’t deserve it. If you ‘deserve’ something, that makes it sounds like you got it because you waited your turn. That’s not Alaska. She works for it.”

“Do you count her win as a true win now?” he asked.

Sharon furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you used to have a lot to say about how you won the first time around and you didn’t need All-Stars because you did it right the first time,” the interviewer said. “Right?”

“I’m sure I said that,” Sharon said. “It sounds like me.”

“Did you mean it?”

“When I said it,” Sharon said slowly, “was Alaska with me?”

The interviewer opened his mouth but then looked down at his notes. “Uh, I think sometimes?”

“Then I was probably trying to get at her,” Sharon said. “We fought in public in many ways, darling, and they weren’t all kosher. Fighting isn’t nice, after all.”

“You were trying to hurt her?”

“Yes,” Sharon said. “Probably. I don’t remember the instances, but I can guarantee if I was saying things like that in front of her, I was trying to poke at a bruise.” She sighed. “We didn’t fight fair back then.”

The interviewer was floored by the candor. He had nothing to say for a moment.

“But I always counted her win,” Sharon added. “God, she won one of the hardest seasons of any Drag Race season. Think of that cast! Of course her win is legitimate, far more legitimate than most of the other seasons’ wins that came after it.”

“Who do you think isn’t a legitimate winner?”

Sharon smirked. “You’re trying to get me in trouble when I just got out of the doghouse.” She wagged her finger at him. “No, no, no.”

* * *

“Okay, we have you here, Sharon,” the WoW staff member said.

Sharon set her makeup bag down on the vanity and hung her garment bag on the hook beside the mirror. It was just as she had remembered it from the last finale she had attended as a special guest: a big room with vanities and tables and mirrors with dramatic flashbulb lighting and so many cameras and microphones you could trip.

“And Alaska,” the WoW staff member said. He led her to a vanity along the opposite wall. “We have you right here.”

Just as Sharon did, Alaska put her things down to unpack. When the WoW employee left, however, she looked up to meet Sharon’s eyes across the room. She shrugged and Sharon answered with one of her own. They didn’t need to be together all the time, of course not, but they had anticipated painting side-by-side and had packed their bags accordingly. It would have been a safe bet to think that World of Wonder would want to capitalize on their being together for this pre-show filming since they had included Alaska on Sharon’s ‘invitation’ backstage.

And if Sharon was privately steaming over their wanting to use Alaska for this but not put her on the list for All-Winners 2? Well, unfortunately, nobody could know about her rage, so she had to push it down deep.

“Alaska!” Peppermint said brightly as she crossed the room to hug her. “So good to see you!”

Thus started the chain reaction of greetings. The queens who were already there—and there were many because Alaska and Sharon had cut it dangerously close with their timing—zipped back and forth across the room to greet them. Unlike on the Anniversary Tour where Sharon had felt isolated outside her bubble of safe queens, she had many coming up to her now. It seemed that her own calculations, and WoW’s, had been correct: a tour and a successful season had been enough to wash most of the stench of cancellation off her.

“Where’s your daughter?” Violet asked as she sat down at the vanity beside Sharon’s.

“Is Aquaria coming?” Sharon asked. “That’s news to me, but it’s not as if she’d tell me.”

Violet smirked at her in the mirror. “Not that one.”

“My other isn’t a Ru Girl, so I’m afraid you’ll have to explain the joke, honey, so sorry,” Sharon said with a flutter of her lashes.

There was a camera set up right at the end of Violet’s vanity to capture them. This was wholly unsurprising, of course, but it did mean that Sharon would need to keep that in her head so as not to say anything too outlandish. She didn’t doubt she’d be edited kindly—they were clearly investing in her again, she knew that—but she didn’t need to make it any more difficult for them.

“IT Girl,” Violet teased.

Sharon threw her head back and laughed. “Ohhhh, my baby girl. She’s my daughter now? Does she know? Does her drag mother know?”

“Oh, you know she doesn’t have one,” Violet said with a scoff. “These young queens all grew up doing it online on their own after watching too many Trixie videos.”

“You said her name,” Sharon said with a sigh, “now she’s going to get royalties.”

Violet laughed and pulled her T-shirt up over her head to start painting. Sharon watched her for a few moments but then turned to start her own process. This talk about drag daughters reminded her though…

Sharon: Hey, will you do me a favor?

Aquaria: Possibly.

Sharon: Smart answer.

Sharon: If you get the call for AW2, will you give me a heads up?

Aquaria: I can do that.

Sharon: Thank you, angel.

Sharon and Violet got ready in easy silence, just Violet’s music playing from her phone between them. until a producer came to stand behind the camera.

“Sharon, have you been online lately?” he asked. “There’s been an outpouring for you.”

“Isn’t it grand?” Sharon smiled. “I’ve seen it, yes. It’s incredible, really, how people have taken to that runway.” She turned in her seat towards Violet, towards the camera. “I know some people said I was being rude to Michelle Visage, but I think they forget that I’ve known that woman for a lifetime now. We can talk to each other straight.”

“A lifetime?” Violet snorted. “How’s your math?”

“I’m a gay, punk loser. Anything over twelve years is a lifetime,” Sharon said. She looked at the producer behind the camera. “I wasn’t trying to be rude to her; I was trying to explain that what I do is… well, it’s what I do and it works for me. I’m glad audiences got it.”

“One of the sweetest moments on the show came in your elimination,” the producer continued. “When IT Girl said goodbye to you—”

“Where is she?” Sharon asked. She turned on her stool to scan the room. “If we’re going to talk about that, I think she should be here. Where’d you sit her and why isn’t it here with me and Violet?”

“Because my wigs are really expensive,” Violet said out of the corner of her mouth.

“The final four are in interviews,” the producer said apologetically.

Sharon groaned. “Well, save that for when she’s available because I’m not doing it without her.”

The producer held up her hands in surrender and stepped away to go to another station to talk with those queens. Sharon pushed her chair back to stand for her eye makeup; she needed to be able to get close to the mirror to rest her elbow on it. When ‘Feminine Energy’ came up next on Violet’s playlist, Sharon smirked.

“Are you trying to trigger Daya?” Sharon asked.

“Do you want to?” Violet’s eyes lit up.

Before Sharon could answer, Violet was taking her arm to pull her away from the mirror to dance with her. Sharon protested weakly, but she wasn’t going to deny Violet a little moment. She could frown and snarl and shimmy a bit in her half-beat to let Violet take a moment to shine—and wasn’t that very big of her? The free-moving cameramen turned to capture this impromptu dance party for some B-roll. When a few more girls came to join Violet, Sharon bowed out to keep painting. Her look wasn’t complex, but it was all dark makeup on white, white skin; she needed to be precise and would rather not sweat quite yet.

“Do you have the contact solution, baby?” Alaska asked as she came up beside her.

“I do,” Sharon said. She finished the sweep of burgundy under her right eye and the leaned back to get it. “Here.”

Alaska took it and kissed the air in Sharon’s direction in thanks before disappearing back to her side of the room. She returned moments later with her black contacts in place and stood watching Sharon.

“When it’s time, let me do your lips,” Alaska said.

Sharon was adding the final touches on her eye. She looked at Alaska in the mirror briefly before looking back at her work. She was using black eyeshadow as the base and smoking it out with burgundy and navy to give dimension. She’d add gloss to make it dewy in the end. She had gold foil, too, for her temples, but she wasn’t sure yet if that would work or look too gaudy. Ha! As if a drag queen shouldn’t look gaudy. She’d use the gold leaf.

“What are you seeing that I’m not seeing to make you say that?” Sharon asked.

“You’re turning purple,” Alaska said quietly.

Sharon cut her eyes to the reflection of her hand in the mirror. It wasn’t too noticeable yet, but Sharon wasn’t surprised that Alaska had seen the telltale signs. She had made Sharon’s damned hand her own personal responsibility. Sharon pulled back from the mirror to flex her fingers and grunted in annoyance. Now that she wasn’t holding the brush and pressed to the mirror, she could feel the start of those agonizing, icy pins-and-needles.

“Can you put my lashes on me, too?” Sharon asked dryly.

Alaska nodded emphatically. Of course she would. Sharon could have asked Alaska to tuck her and she would have. Not her assistant, eh? Sharon’s face bloomed with color over such an uncharitable thought even though she hadn’t voiced it and Alaska would never even know she’d thought it. What was worse, however, was how Alaska ran her hand over Sharon’s back now, probably thinking that Sharon was embarrassed about her hand, not her own evil thoughts. What was wrong with her that she always did that? Alaska offered her true, genuine assistance without expectation, and it made her want to lash out? Why was she like this?

“Fucking hell. Okay, I’ll call you back over. Go finish,” Sharon said. “Who’d they sit with you anyway?”

“Luxx Noir London,” Alaska said with a big smile, “so we’re basically insufferable over there.”

Sharon nodded her head back towards Violet’s little dance party. “We’re a different kind of insufferable.”

“Oh, I saw Daya watching her in the mirror when I came over,” Alaska said with a chuckle. “Okay, call me when you’re ready, baby.”

Alaska squeezed Sharon’s shoulder and walked back to her vanity to finish her paint. She could feel Sharon’s anxiety, but she was sure it was about the event. This was the first live-taping of a finale and it had fans, celebrities, and queens alike in attendance. She’d walk the carpet while fans watched. She’d walk the stage, too. Alaska imagined Sharon was feeling a little nervous about her reception, especially given that there wouldn’t be much editing available to her. Alaska would do what she could to be a shield, buffer, or distraction. Whatever the moment called for.

But to do that, she’d need to finish her drag.

When Sharon finally called her over, Alaska was painted and in her padding. She pulled her gown out of the garment bag to hang freely and then went to Sharon’s station. She hummed to herself as she got everything laid out how she wanted it: lash glue, lashes, eyeliner, lip liner, lipstick, gloss. Alaska was particular. She took Sharon’s chin in her hand to tilt her head up slightly more. Before Alaska turned away to get her first item, Sharon took her wrist and pressed a lingering kiss to it. Alaska raised her eyebrows even as she smiled at the little affection.

“What’s that for?” Alaska asked.

“It’s an apology,” Sharon said.

“For what?” Alaska asked as she applied glue to the first lash and blew on it. “I don’t remember a slight.”

“I was rude before and you’re just trying to help me,” Sharon said.

Alaska furrowed her brow but didn’t say anything. She hadn’t thought Sharon had been rude before, just frustrated with her own circumstance. Still, she wouldn’t complain or discourage an apology; they weren’t Sharon’s strong suit.

“We’re okay, baby,” Alaska whispered as she leaned in to apply the lash to Sharon’s lid. “Just hold still and let me take care of you.”

So Sharon did. She kept her face turned up towards Alaska like one might to the sun and she didn’t say a word. She simply gazed up at Alaska as she carefully drew on her lips and painted the lipstick on her with a steadier hand than Sharon could even dream of at this point.

When these shots were posted online—because the socials team couldn’t believe their luck that this was happening right in front of a camera and with relative silence around the couple—the comments went crazy talking about the softness, the adoration, the love.

Their Royal Couple had returned.

* * *

Sharon stepped onto the carpet with her head held high and a suggestive smirk on her face. She walked confidently with her hands just above her exaggerated, pointy hips. Her dress was painted silk and draped at the neckline while hugging her body the rest of the way down. It had to for the print to work: stained glass. With a blood-red wig and matching lips contrasting with her ghostly white skin, she was a vision. She had gone without contacts that night so her light eyes popped naturally in her dark makeup.

“This is how I wanted that Catholic Met Gala to go,” Sharon said. “Everyone who went this route? Beautiful. I’m in love. Brooding, gothic?” She moaned. “The white and purity? Get out of here. You’re not really Catholic if you’re not obsessed with the dark. Where’s Katya? She’ll agree with me.”

“You seem to enjoy a red carpet,” the woman with MTV said.

Sharon smiled brightly. “I do, I do. It’s fun to show off my clothes! It’s nice to see my sisters and pose with them.” She giggled airily. “At the end of the day, Sharon Needles is just a bimbo who died, you know? She wants her chance to dress up, too.”

Sharon continued down the red carpet, posing and pausing to answer questions about the season or her clothes or Alaska’s Valentine’s Day tour song. She posed with several Ru Girls, of course, and even a few local queens who seemed keen to see her. When she saw Sasha Colby, she smiled and accepted the air kisses she offered.

When she was at Sasha’s ear, she murmured, “If you get the call for All-Winners, send me a text.”

They pulled back and Sasha scanned her face curiously, suspiciously.

“It’s not for my sake,” Sharon said quietly. “I won’t be leaking.”

Sasha laughed. “I didn’t think you would. I’ll tell you.”

Sharon watched her go on and turned to the nearby camera with a smile. She needed to hide that strange interaction in something, so she would banter. She would perform. Lights, camera, action! I do what Hollywoodn’t.

“You know, people keep asking me if I read the comments,” Sharon said to the nearest journalist and camera, “and I do a lot of times because I’ve got a problem.” She grimaced and nervously giggled. “But one of my favorites is about me and Sasha Colby. Someone wrote something like, ‘We can’t fault Sasha Colby for being friendly with Sharon Needles because Sharon did get disabled defending her,’—and that’s not the part I like.” She smiled and shook her head. “It’s the reply! There’s a reply that says, ‘I have a feeling that Sharon Needles was disabled before that and nobody’s going to convince me otherwise!’”

Sharon cackled both at the recounting of the bizarre tweets and at the look of shock on the ET journalist’s face. When she saw IT Girl ahead talking to a WoW camera, Sharon left the journalist without a chance to ask a follow-up or chide her. She slid in next to IT Girl with a bright smile.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Sharon said.

IT Girl turned and wore a surprised smile. “Oh, hello, look at you. Yes, stained glass, mama. Teach the children.”

“The children remain taught,” Sharon said dryly as she looked right into the camera. She then turned back to IT Girl, in a classic teal gown, and hummed approvingly. “Chic, effortless.”

“Ooh, but wait,” IT Girl said in her best infomercial voice, “there’s more!”

When IT Girl moved to turn around, Sharon stepped back to give her space, and she was glad she did because the reveal was everything. Her dress had a low back and along the bottom of said low back was a massive pair of embroidered scissors that looked to be cutting her ass. Sharon clapped her hands together and clasped her fingers under her chin, her jaw ajar.

“Oh, it’s everything. Oh, no, I love this so much,” Sharon said. “Please tell me you’ve only been looking over your shoulder all night. Fuck, it’s good.” She looked into the camera. “This is camp, bitches. Write IT Girl’s name down. She’s clever.”

IT Girl bounced excitedly and turned back around to grip Sharon’s arm. “Isn’t it too good? My mom made it.”

Sharon clasped her chest and looked right into the camera again. That was too much for the Grinch’s heart on this day. The photographers asked them to pose together which pulled Sharon from the sweetness overload. She slid an arm around IT Girl’s waist and put her other hand on one her pointed hips.

“No, oh my God, you’re such a millennial right now,” IT Girl said. “Put your hand down.

Sharon blinked hard and rolled her eyes. “I am a millennial. I take it back. You’re not my drag daughter anymore.”

“Oh, did you adopt me while I was in interviews? I didn’t know I was homeless.” IT Girl laughed. She reached over and took Sharon’s hand off her hip. “None of that. C’mon.”

“Violet made the choice for you in the dressing room, and, well, maybe we should have talk with her about volunteering people for adoption without consent, but hey, that’s none of my business!” Sharon said with a faux nervous smile.

“You are on that line,” IT Girl said, amuse. “I do not understand how you live on that line at all times and don’t fall off.” She paused. “Well, I guess you have fallen off it before.”

Sharon smartly ignored that line and let her arm hang at her side and curled her lip. “This looks stupid.”

IT Girl and the photographers alike laughed at Sharon as she seemed to truly struggle with how to pose without her hand on her hip.

“It doesn’t look stupid,” IT Girl promised.

To compromise, Sharon used her free hand to do her usual spooky hands at her eyes or pressing into her lip. She reached over and pretended to throttle IT Girl, who gamely went along with it before subjecting Sharon to her own pose: pretending to cut her wig.

“Leaning into it is so smart,” Sharon murmured as they walked along the carpet. “They can’t cut you with it if you already do it.”

IT Girl smiled and nodded. “That’s the hope.”

“Go find your final four for photos,” Sharon said. “I need to find my Alaska.”

“She’s behind you,” IT Girl said.

Sharon turned to see Alaska two queens back, posing in her slinky, sleek, black gown. Her wig that night was spun up high and held with her signature green clip, but soft curls hung loosely around her face and a big, thick braid hung over one shoulder. It should’t work, but it did, of course, because it was so very Alaska. Sharon waited with her head tilted to the side until Alaska saw her.

“Stunning, baby,” Alaska drawled as she approached Sharon “Even better out here in the lights. Were you waiting for me?”

“Who else would I wait for?” Sharon asked.

Alaska’s face broke out in a brilliant smile, one so bright and warm that it surely could outmatch any of these lights, maybe even the sun itself.

There she was. There was her Alaska.

* * *

In the end, Sharon had been right about one thing: there were not going to be any double (or triple) crowns in this season. Adore was crowned for the heroes and Detox was crowned for the villains. It was somehow simultaneously satisfying and unsatisfying for the fans. Both winners were beloved by fans and had strong followings; many were happy for them, but at the same time, it felt too easy. Much to Sharon’s chagrin, her clip talking about Alaska’s deserving-versus-earning her accolades got repurposed by fans and used to start a discussion about whether or not Adore and Detox deserved or earned these crowns.

But Sharon couldn’t care too much about if her friends were hurting over Sharon’s words being twisted. She was stretched out on a pink-and-white chaise lounge at the Trixie Motel in Palm Springs. Trixie had agreed months ago to let the Heroes vs Villains cast host a pool party at her motel following the finale. The dates were blacked out and so they had it all to themselves! Now Sharon had a silly, fruity drink on her right, a tanned, pink-Speedo-clad Alaska on her left, and Alaska’s newest demo in her ears.

“What do you think?” Alaska asked when Sharon pushed her headphones down. “Is it good?”

Sharon had just finished listening to Alaska’s newest song, ‘I’m Not Your Toy.’ It was far from finished, but she had wanted to get some real music behind it, really give it a go before letting Sharon listen to it all the way through. Although, of course, Sharon had been hearing bits and pieces of the song since she said the (now iconic) line on her elimination episode because Alaska was nothing if not predictable when it came to her desire to reference the big moments of Drag Race. She had been walking around their house singing it ever since.

“You know it’s good, Midas,” Sharon said with a smirk. “Everything you touch is gold.”

Alaska smiled. “Is that your blessing? It is your line. I get it if you want to do it.”

“No, do it,” Sharon said. She rolled her eyes even as she laughed. Why would she wait until Alaska was demoing to tell her not to use her line? “What’s mine is yours, baby.”

“You really like it?” Alaska asked.

Her hope was plain, and it made Sharon’s chest hurt. She was glad she had sunglasses on or she’d surely worry Alaska with how glossy here eyes got. Again, she reminded herself that she had to do better at complimenting Alaska.

“I really, really like it,” Sharon said softly but firmly. “You sound incredible. Also? Sampling ‘412/724 Whore’ is hilarious, and I’m so sorry for everyone who’s going to look that up and listen to it after they hear this.”

“I love how you say your name in it!” Alaska grinned. “‘I’m Share-en Needulls.’ I needed that. ‘I’m not your toy. I’m Share-en Needulls.’”

Sharon laughed and relaxed back against the chaise lounge. “Which of her outfits will you wear for the music video?”

“Oh my God!” Alaska gasped. “That’s such a good idea! I love that little green, plastic dress you wore in that! Cutting edge for the time, baby.”

“Are you prepared for that brown wig and that atrocious pink lipstick that go with it?” Sharon groaned. “Although, you could probably wear that shade just fine, you bitch.”

Alaska had pulled up that old music video and now watched it with a big, cheesy grin. She had to look at all the outfit options because Sharon was right that she’d need to lean in and wear one for at least the part where she sampled Sharon’s name. Sharon tried not to cringe too hard at her own voice.

Around them, their friends chatted, swam, danced, and filmed for their social media, but Sharon was content here under the palm tree, in little pink trunks—when in Rome, Alaska always said—with Alaska beside her. She felt no desire to mingle or work. She only wanted to soak up the sun (with loads of sunscreen, of course) and watch Alaska beside her.

“I booked the tickets last night,” Sharon said lazily.

Alaska paused the video and rolled her head to the side. “Good ones?”

“Very good ones,” Sharon promised. “I took a look at the projections my agents sent. Me. The spreadsheet on what I should bring in for gigs this spring and summer even if I don’t book another thing? It doesn’t even include yours, of course.” She whistled lowly. “We deserve the splurge.”

Alaska got up to sit down on the edge of Sharon’s chaise lounge. As she had hoped, Sharon shifted over and she was able to lay beside her. She rested her cheek on her chest and put an arm around her middle, hand resting across her on her ribs. They started talking, once again but without any less excitement, about what they would do in Greece.

“Please tell me you’re going to drink in Greece,” Sharon said. “The wine. You have to drink that wine with me. I’ll cry. I will.”

“Oh, yes,” Alaska said. “The dry spell will be ending for this trip for sure.”

Alaska’s mother had been right about one thing: Sharon did like big romantic gestures (and had little impulse control). But that didn’t look like a marriage proposal in Greece. God, no. That was too cliche for both of them. No, Alaska’s hand currently rested on the still-healing tattoo of one of Alaska’s sketches: the Vivaldi ‘Summer’ look she had drawn in their planning for The Four Seasons ball.

When Alaska had asked Sharon why she had chosen that look out of all the possible options, Sharon had said, “Because you are my sun,” like it should have been incredibly obvious.

Chapter Text

Santorini was out of a postcard.

Sharon had been to many places thanks to Drag Race. She’d gone from never seeing the ocean until Chanel snuck her off set during Season 4 to seeing the world! Sometimes it was still so hard to believe that this was her life. As she traipsed through Greece, she certainly had to keep pinching herself. It was real. It was all real.

In fact, Sharon and Alaska both kept lifting their sunglasses as they walked around because they simply could not believe how vivid it all was! The water really was that stunningly clear blue and the buildings really did glow white in the sun. Intermixed with the white buildings were colorful flowers, the blue and white flag of Greece, and accent walls painted vibrant pinks or striped with yellow. And the beaches? Oh, the beaches. Surrounded by those majestic cliffs, it was like out of… well, still out of a postcard! There was no other way to put it!

It was after one of those glorious days, after sunbathing and swimming and dining on the very best food and filling up on wine rather than water, that it all came toppling down. The voice in Sharon’s head that always told her the house of cards was going to fall had been so quiet this trip that she had not been ready for it. She had forgotten to be scared.

One minute, she was promising Alaska she’d be right back, that she was going to get them another bottle of wine to share out on the patio. She was laughing and kissing up Alaska’s arm before stepping out into the town. And the next minute? She was stepping back into a disaster zone.

If she was Hurricane Needles, Alaska was a nuclear disaster; both were dangerous in their own right, but one was far more lethal and insidious. Nuclear technology was stable—until it wasn’t. Everyone feared a hurricane, not everyone knew to worry about the reactor in their backyard. After all, it hadn’t had any issues recently, so what were the odds it would now?

Sharon opened the door and was already talking: “They had an Agi…Agiorgit—that red we liked from earlier, so I got that; and they had this olive oil, so naturally, I got that, too, with some bread for me and some—”

It had taken her a moment, but by the time Sharon was closing the door behind herself, she had realized the problem: Alaska was weeping in their bed. It was a familiar sound, almost as familiar as her laughter honestly, and Sharon was surprised she hadn’t heard it on her approach to their little cottage. Alaska did not mourn quietly. She needed everyone to feel her pain.

“What happened?” Sharon asked as she put down the bottles, the bags, the keys on the table. “Alaska? Talk to me.”

But Alaska was inconsolable as she shook on the bed, her head tucked under Sharon’s pillow. Sharon sat on the edge gingerly, waiting for the aftershocks of the meltdown to rock her and make it clear that she was the problem. But Alaska didn’t push her away or roll away from her. No, in fact, Alaska pushed the pillow away and traded it for Sharon’s lap. She dug her fingers into her thighs and wept into her shorts.

“What is it? You’re scaring me,” Sharon said softly. She stroked Alaska’s hair. “It’s okay. It’ll okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Alaska moaned. “It’s not. It’s not. It’s not fair.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes in thought. Nothing had gone wrong that day, or the day before, or the day before that. They had been having a positively lovely vacation with very little issue at all. It was why Sharon’s little warning voice in the back of her head had been so quiet! They had been peaceful!

But not anymore. Alaska shook under Sharon’s hands, and it made Sharon feel sick, sicker than any flu ever could because she was at a loss. Alaska curled her knees up to her chest and pressed her toes into Sharon’s back. Sharon just stroked her hair, stroked her back, made soft shushing noises as sobs racked Alaska’s lithe frame. When she was like this, despite her height and strength, she seemed so fragile. Fragile like a bomb, not like glass.

“Talk to me, Lasky.” Sharon said “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“Then I’ll be sick!” Alaska roared. “I am sick!”

Sharon stiffened.

“I, I’m not sick,” Alaska amended. She groaned. “Not like that. I’m sorry. Not like that.”

Sharon relaxed slightly.

“I… I turned my data on whi-while you were out,” Alaska managed to sputter. “And I have a text from, from, from… Bob.”

Bob.

Bob the fucking Drag Queen.

Sharon closed her eyes and let her head hang back. She hadn’t texted Bob. She had gotten Aquaria, Sasha Colby, Trixie, Sasha Velour, Jimbo, Willow Pill, even Bebe fucking Zahara Benet! But she hadn’t gotten to Bob. She hadn’t thought to ask Bob—and that had been a critical error. Of course Bob would have gotten the call first, and of course she would have reached out to Alaska! Sharon burned from her own stupidity. Even she knew that wasn’t fair to herself though; she could not have contacted Bob of all queens.

Alaska managed to take a deep breath and gather herself for a moment. She turned her face into the seam of Sharon’s legs and squeezed her eyes so tightly that they hurt—but she wasn’t crying. She was hyperventilating, sure, but she had gotten ahold of herself enough to talk.

“Bob got the call,” Alaska said. Her voice was raw. “For All-Winners.”

However, that was all Alaska could say before she was crying again.

Sharon let out a long sigh and took ahold of Alaska under her arms to force her up. She held her against her chest, and Alaska didn’t hesitate to wrap all her limbs around Sharon like the saddest monkey. Alaska pressed her face into Sharon’s neck with little concern for the tears and snot she smeared all over her.

It was deja vu. Sharon had lived this life before, had watched Alaska’s dreams be dashed while ones Sharon hadn’t even known she had were brought to life. Alaska had been pining for All-Winners; Sharon hadn’t even considered that another season could ever be part of her life. The only blessing was that, this time, Sharon’s season had not been what Alaska wanted. Alaska didn’t want Heroes vs Villains; she wanted the higher caliber of competing against other winners. She wanted to land another tough crown. She wanted to prove that she was not a rigged queen; she could win again and without question.

“I know, my baby,” Sharon murmured against Alaska’s hair. She smelt of salt water and oil and cinnamon from their dessert. “It hurts. It sucks.”

“What’s wrong with me?” Alaska cried into Sharon’s skin. “Why can’t they let me do it? They let you come back, and you were blacklisted for much worse.”

Sharon winced. Not wrong but ouch. Alaska tightened her hold on Sharon like she knew what she’d said might make her let her go. But Sharon wasn’t going to leave now. That barb had been misplaced; she knew that. Alaska wasn’t mad at her.

(Jealousy is a killer in this industry.)

“It’s early yet,” Sharon murmured. “Maybe they just haven’t gotten to you yet. Remember they went to Detox weeks and weeks before they called me.”

“All I do is hype that show up,” Alaska continued. “I love that show. I, I, I have a whole podcast devoted to it. I do the Pit Stop whenever they ask. I do DragCon. I make music about it. I…” She sniffled. “My life’s a fucking love letter to that fucking show, and they can’t put me on All-Winners?”

Sharon closed her eyes and swayed gently. She kissed Alaska’s hair and simply held her. There was nothing to say right now. She needed to let Alaska feel.

“Who do you know?” Alaska asked.

She pulled back to look at Sharon, and that meant Sharon got to look at Alaska. Her face was swollen, incredibly so already, and bright red. Sharon could have winced from the sight of her, but she had the good sense to keep her face neutral.

“What do you mean?” Sharon asked uncertainly. 

“You make friends with the crew everywhere we’ve ever gone,” Alaska said. “You’ve always ch-chatted up every tech, every assistant, every producer. Who did you meet on Heroes vs Villains?”

Sharon thought about the contact Chanel had promised who had talked to her backstage at the finale when Alaska had been safely nestled in the audience. It hadn’t been a bad conversation, but it clearly hadn’t worked. Sharon ran her thumbs under Alaska’s eyes to catch the tears and to try to soothe her angry, swollen skin. Alaska closed her eyes and leaned forward instead to push their foreheads together.

“There might be someone I know,” Sharon said slowly.

“Call them.” Alaska slid down Sharon’s body to bury her face into her neck again. “Even if you can’t—I just want to know why. I want to know what I did that’s so terrible that I can’t come back from it.”

“We don’t know that you’re not getting the call,” Sharon said quietly. “We don’t know that you won’t get it.” She rested her cheek against her head again. “You are a phenomenal artist. You are an incredible ambassador. If they don’t call you—”

Alaska whimpered.

“—then they’re crazier than I thought,” Sharon finished.

Later that night, after sitting and eventually laying together while Alaska cried and cursed Drag Race and herself and Sharon promised Alaska she was a star, Sharon carried Alaska into the bathroom. She sat her on the toilet seat and Alaska didn’t argue, just pulled her knees to her chest again. Sharon ran a washcloth under cool water and knelt before her to hold it over Alaska’s eyes to try to soothe the throbbing. Alaska was cried-out now, silent, despondent.

“How am I supposed to go on? This is so embarrassing,” Alaska whispered. “Another All-Winners without me?”

“This doesn’t reflect on you. This reflects on them.”

Sharon kissed Alaska’s forehead before tossing the washcloth aside. She took her hands to pull her to her feet, but Alaska didn’t get up. Instead, she held her arms up for Sharon to lift her—and of course, she did. She carried Alaska out onto the patio and sat with her on the swing that faced the cliffs and ocean.

“I’ll call the guy,” Sharon promised. “I can’t swear it’ll do anything, but I’ll call him.”

“Thank you,” Alaska whispered. “Even if I can just get an explanation…”

Sharon kissed Alaska’s temple and pulled her in close once more. She would call the casting guy, all right. She would call him, and Chanel, and Michelle, and anyone else who could possibly be useful. Sharon wasn’t delusional; she didn’t have pull to get Alaska on the show, and she knew it. But she could try to get some answers, a rationale, something.

“You told me you were garbage once and didn’t deserve love,” Alaska said, “and I thought that was just the cutest thing you could have said because I was so fucking gaga over you, so fucking in love with you, that I couldn’t imagine how that felt.”

“I remember,” Sharon murmured.

“Is that how you feel about me now?” Alaska whispered.

“No,” Sharon said without hesitation

Alaska flinched and took in a gasping breath.

“Because you’re not garbage,” Sharon continued. “Not by a long shot. I love you because you’re you and I’m me, and that’s what we do.”

“And that’s what we do,” Alaska whispered as she wrapped herself tighter around Sharon.

* * *

The worst part about nuclear holocaust is it’s not simply one event.

It has waves. It has lasting influence. It could seem to have gone dormant and then an entire population would be singed and marred by defects. Alaska might calm down. She might pull herself together soon. She might tell herself and Sharon she was fine. She might even go have fun on the boat the next day. She might not cry again—or at least not like this again.

But the radioactivity lingered.

It lurked.

It would surface again.

It always did.