Clive produced a stash that would satisfy a drag queen. Which, it turns out, is pretty much the truth. “Where did you get all this?” I gape as he rummages through the box of lipsticks, eye shadows, and who knows what else. He shrugs. “An old boyfriend who used to have a drag show. He dumped me, I kept his stuff. And now I collect when there’s trade. Dabble a bit. Because you never know when you’re going to be called on to make over a monsterslayer.” “I thought you liked guns!” I blurt. He laughs. “Is that your way of asking if I’m gay?” He works his thumb against my cheek, rubbing in a
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