Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Volume 1

Chapter 5.1: 1994, Ruiz

"Vogue! Come on, Vogue!" Ambrose yelled at the audience, moving his arms fiercely in a box formation around his face, then turning around and moving his arms in elegant waves above his head and at the base of his back. I did the same, smiling my brightest as we spun together to face the audience and popped open our fans above our heads.

As we chanted the famous lines with them and waved our fans with each word ("Greta Garbo, and Monroe, Deitrich and DiMaggio, Marlon Brando, Jimmy Dean") a beer was making its way up from the audience and Ambrose winked at me. In his majestic black gothic Marie Antoinette dress and so gracefully there was no danger of his towering powdered and pearled Rococo wig toppling over as he bent down, he grabbed the can of beer from the audience and held it up as they went crazy, cheering, screaming, and laughing.

He yanked open the can and the beer exploded everywhere, frothing and bubbling. "SHIT!" Ambrose yelled over the music, holding it away from himself. The audience went up in cheers and shrieks of laughter. Ambrose started laughing, too, though his eyes looked pretty pissed to me. He licked the top of the can seductively, then took a long drink, making sure to press his red lips to the can as he did so in order to leave a good mark. I watched him drink the whole thing in one go once again as I laughed along with the audience. His neck arched beautifully as he finished, then he looked at the audience and grinned, throwing the can at them with a vengeance, making me I know he was still pissed at them. Someone caught the can and the people around the guy went up in cheers.

"Vogue!" we yelled with the crowd, striking a last pose like Charlie's Angels.

"You guys sure know how to speak to my alcoholic heart, don't you? How'd you know all drag queens are alcoholics?" Ambrose shouted at them.

"We love you, Ambrozia!" some of them shouted back, pretty drunk themselves.

"Yeah, you'd better," he whispered to me angrily as we quickly gathered our tips from the stage. "Almost ruining my dress. Assholes."

"Maybe they didn't know it was shook up?" I suggested, descending from the stage and walking with him towards the bar.

"They knew," he said bitterly.

I took his hand and squeezed it apologetically and we sat down together at the bar.

"Give me a Manhattan," he ordered the bartender as the bartender walked past us.

"All out of cherries," he informed Ambrose.

"Fuck, I don't need a cherry, goddammit," Ambrose growled at him. I patted his back and left my hand between his shoulder blades. This seemed to calm him just some. I was glad by it. Because of this, I began to rub his back gently and his shoulders dipped elegantly as he rested his elbows on the bar, sighing deeply. He put his face in his hands. "Sometimes being a drag queen sucks, Ruiz," he sighed again.

"Well, none of the beer got on your dress, right? You're lucky. That's cause for a toast?" I asked, trying to make him feel better.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. God, though. Fuck, I'm so glad none of that got on my dress. It took me so long to make this."

"What drink do you want, Audrey?" the female bartender asked me. The other one was busy making Ambrose's cherry-less Manhattan at the other end of the bar. I thought for a moment.

"Appletini," I said brightly to her.

Ambrose started chuckling behind his hands.

"What?" I asked, as the female bartender walked away to make my drink.

"You always order those," he laughed.

"What's wrong with them?" I giggled.

"That's a girl's drink," he said, finally smiling and looking at me.