One of the funnest scenes to research and write for
Lords: Part One was chapter 19, a scene not really about Kenny Mount dancing with a fashionista 1970s wig, but about the young boy, Joey Minstrel as he begins to transform into a luscious pawn of the evil Lords of Bakersfield.
In this scene we have a very innocent character in Carol Burbank, who isn't a Lord at all but a rather flamboyant bit of comic relief, yet someone who also adds to the lure of materialism and the party life that Minstrel skews in his own warped mind as he transforms from ideas of boyhood to manhood...
Oh yeah, don't forget to get a copy. It's almost Christmas...
19. “Just look at my hair. I look like a damn blue-haired Puerto Rican grandmother!” Carol Burbank said as she swept the floor of Ricky’s hair salon. On her head was a medium length bright blue wig with hair flipped up at the ends that bounced with each sweep. She also wore multi-colored flower print pants and blouse with a thick back belt in her attempt to look like one of the cast from the sitcom, Charlie’s Angels.
Carol was really a ‘he’ and had reverted to a transvestite life after a stint as a B-movie make-up artist living in West Hollywood. She had got her start in Bakersfield working in a salon next to a gay bar. Every now and then she would have Hollywood clientele who drove to Bakersfield for parties, spent the night, then needed a good salon the next day. Today she had Minstrel as one of her customers.
Carol had spent more than a year studying film and television make-up so knew all the latest trends. She talked a fast talk with her clients until she got a big breakthrough with a producer who knew of a make-up artist group looking to tutor some new blood in their rather odd circle of make-up artists, set designers, extras and movie-goers.
In between movies, Carol came back to Bakersfield and worked the few off-season months in Ricky’s salon. She always brought her latest ‘new’ look, her latest wigs, her latest movie lingo and hair designs. If it weren’t for the storm she would have been cutting hair, teaching make-up artistry, and weaving her fast-talking style into the ears of her hair-cutting fans—the few locals who adored her.
Carol tossed the broom in mock anger and stared into a wall mirror, “Do you know what this means? I’m never going to be fondled by the sisters. Ay! And I have such a high sex drive. I
vroom vroom when they’re busy lighting their little cigarettes,” she said doing a little gyrating dance. She whirled and helped Minstrel into a salon chair, then turned back to the mirror. “But they won’t dare touch me now. Oh that smoke makes me hot though. I can do the little Puerto Rican dance too. Just like that one boy—oh he’s so fine—in
Saturday Night Fever; you know the one. He is Puerto Rican, right? No? Italian? An Italian stallion Vinnie Barbarino making the big movies. He’s so hot with disco! Are you sure he’s not Puerto Rican? Did you see that movie? Best movie of the year except Tony Manero Barbarino needed a makeover when he got slapped by that pissy father of his.” She suddenly turned to Minstrel, walked up to him and stroked his head, rinsed, and then added shampoo. “I felt so sorry for Tony’s hair—
mmm—hair, like the hair you have; you have to take special care with lots of vitamins. Lots of protein supplements. Now there’s a favorite nourishing product. You know what I mean—
wink wink. Now don’t be hateful like I am about my blue hair. Ok, say something. Don’t be bitchy.”
“It’s lovely.”
“Oh now you’re adorable. But what do you know? What does a little boy know? Now look at you. You should grow your hair out and put on a nice foundation. A natural look is what you need. Add a pearlised liquid eyeshadow. Something light. Something, hmm. What’s your name again?”
“Joey.”
“Joey. I’m not sure if that’s a nice name. There are no r’s in it to roll off my tongue. Do I look Puerto Rican? C’mon, look close. Don’t be a bashful boy.”
“I don’t know what a Puerto Rican is. I know some Mexicans. But you don’t look too Mexican.”
“Oh Chicanos. That Chavez, he’s a Chicano. You know what he does around here? He’s like a medicine man. But I’m no Chicano. I don’t even think I used to be. Where is Ricky? Where is that Ricky? He’ll tell me the truth. Ricky!? Do I look Puerto Rican!?”
“He just dropped me off. He gave me a key in case you weren’t here. He said he didn’t think anyone would come in today, like yesterday. He said he would phone you in a little while. He wants to ask you something.”
“Oh that’s just like him to not come in to work. I have to deal with all these customers and cut hair and wash hair. I get tired. Do you know what that’s like? Washing a stranger’s hair who is not a star? Sometimes you like it—there’s a rhythm. But sometimes they’re so disgusting. Half of them anyway. The little old ladies who get sick when I touch their hair. They whisper that one name. You know the name. You can whisper it too. Well, that is until I tell them that I am just like everyone, only more truthful and honest than anyone else. So I tell them just what I think of their hair, and how glamorous they could be, because we’re all glamorous—did you know that, little boy? That we’re all glamorous? Ricky and I have done movie make-up. We have studied with the stars! So I tell them what it takes to be beautiful. They forget my ugliness after that and see that I am a darling girl after all. That’s why I whisper, because normally my voice is too deep. Everyone loves a darling don’t they?”
“You talk a lot.”
“And you don’t talk enough, honey. If we don’t talk then we have to listen to that dust blow. And that will drive me crazy for sure. It kept me up all night. You can’t see the bags under my eyes can you? I don’t think so. I took special care to hide them. Same way Farah Fawcett does. Now she has some bags that you could carry to the airport. If it weren’t for those magical make-up artists who get a hold of her before she goes onto the
Charlie’s Angels set, she would be hateful. You’ve at least seen that show haven’t you?”
“I guess so. I’m not sure.”
“Oh goodness. Well sit down. Let me show you how I put on my eyeliner. A boy like you will grow up to be a great woman if you’re careful.”
“I don’t know. I’ll just watch.”
“Oh god, can you smell that dirt? It’s everywhere in here. I swept all morning. I can’t breath. I think my nasal cavity is too small anyway. I’ve got sand clogged in it. Do I sound nasally? The heyday for plastic noses can’t be too far away, can it? You go to the store, you find one you like and it’s a simple process, off with the old and on with the new. You put the old nose in the little bin with all the old ones and they get sent to some Third World country as all the new noses and it starts all over again. It’s nice to think someone could be wearing this nose and think it’s beautiful. Because let me tell you, it’s just wretched. I don’t know if I can live with a nose like this for much longer. And I don’t know if I can live with this storm. It’s never going to end. Come on now. Put this on. You’ll feel a little freer. Even at your age. Maybe you’ll be Vinny Barbarino Manero. And all the boys will love you. And then you can strut the way you deserve to strut.”
“Ok,” Minstrel said. He flinched even as Carol leaned in close. He flinched again as Carol began to apply eyeliner. For such an uptight woman, Minstrel was amazed at her steady hand.
“Here we go. See what mama can do for you. You will be a changed boy. Glamorous little boys have all the fun. Do you see them? The sparkles in your eyes? The stars. Like fireworks don’t you think? I can see them, each and every one. A lovely boy. There, perfect. Now for the eye shadow. You didn’t think you’d get to play dress up did you? What were you going to do, just hide in a corner the rest of your life?”
“Ricky said he has some things to do. And I don’t want to go live in the Boys’ Home. So he is hiding me for a few days.”
“Oh, such drama. Tell me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t you not tell a stranger such secrets?”
“Ricky said you were his friend.”
“Ricky wouldn’t know his friends if one bit him on that nice behind of his. There, finished. Look at yourself will you? No, wait. Let’s put a glamorous shirt on you. Something with a nice collar. There are some in the back. Follow me. And pants. Do you know what I love about polyester pants on a nice boy? I love the fact that they’re so loose at the ankles and so tight in the crotch! Designers these days just know the human body and how to accentuate it. It’s a gift they all have. Well, maybe not all of them. There are some wretched designs. I do so love Oscar de la Renta though I’m more of a Givenchy. Put Nik-Niks and Huk-a-Poos on a slender boy any day of the week and we’re talking strawberry dessert! But for me a maxi-length vivid stretchnit nylon for going out. There’s nothing like having it up over your ankles! Oh darling let’s play dress-up!”
Minstrel walked out of the back of the hair salon onto the main floor looking like a star. His jeans and T-shirt were gone and in their place he wore a skintight polyester blue button-up shirt with a large collar, white polyester pants that were too long for his legs, and a thick black belt. On his feet were two shiny black shoes. His hair, freshly primped looked rather large and puffy against his head. He looked into the mirror. He could see the blue-haired make-up artist grinning hugely as Minstrel stared at his own beauty. He looked deep into the mirror, into his own eyes. For the first time his eyes almost looked too large to him. It was the eyeliner painted dark on his bottom lids. Eye shadow lit his lids brightly. He cracked a smile, leaned in and gazed at himself. He was a star.
“You see? A changed boy. We can fix those pants. It’s so easy to become what you are if you just try a little. Now you’re a firefly. You’ll buzz around in the darkness and everyone will see you. It’s going to give me a fit if you don’t show up to a party.”
Minstrel continued to gaze at himself. He gazed until he could see into the very seductive starry universe hidden behind his eyes. And he wanted to go there.
