People come into our lives for a day, a season, or a reason…
“Shy taught me to fight like a champion, love like a poet, & live like it was my last day on earth.”
One Dyke Cozy touches on the lives of two girls, Gabby and Shy, from their first meeting as children to Shy’s untimely death.
This novel contains profanity and adult situations. Rated PG-13.
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I turned the subject back to Shy. “I think you should go with Brian. I think the four of us would have a blast!”
Her eyes twinkled, and I knew she was warming to the idea. Before she could raise any more objections, I pounced. “We’re pretty much the same size, so I think any of my dresses would fit you. I can do your hair for you, and it wouldn’t kill you to put on a little makeup.”
“It might!” Shy flapped her hand at me. “Begone with your paints and your powders. I’ll be having none of it!”
“Come on…” There was more whine in my voice than I wanted, but I made no apologies. “You never wear makeup. Aren’t you the one who always says there’s a first time for everything?”
Shy picked up Mr. Happy and looked into his perpetually smiling face. “Whadda you think? Should I go?”
She turned her hand so the bright yellow smiley was facing me. I smiled back, as if doing so would elicit a positive response from him.
Lifting Mr. Happy to her ear, she tilted her head and gazed into space as though listening. Finally, she lowered the cozy and pointed to my closet.
“If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna do it my way.” Her voice was firm, leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll do the dress, and I’ll do the shoes. But I’m not wearing nylons! They cut off my circulation, and they make my ass itch.”
I nodded agreeably. She was going, and she was wearing a dress. I figured I would work on the hose later.
“As for makeup,” she continued, “I won’t do lipstick, but I’ll do lip gloss. And I’ll let you put that black shit on my lashes.”
“I guess.” It was clear from her expression she’d already forgotten the word.
I was proud of her willingness to compromise and commented on it.
“That’s me,” she said with an expansive grin. “Always eager to please.”
I had just taken a mouthful of Coke and almost choked on it. “Since when?”
She checked her watch. “Since about 30 seconds ago. But before you get too happy, you’re not curling my hair, and you’re not putting anything on my face. Savvy?”
“Yes ma’am.” I was more than willing to agree to any stipulation. It was Junior Prom, Shy was going, and I couldn’t wait!
Rhani D’Chae is a visually disabled writer who was born and raised in Tacoma, WA. Because of her failing eyesight, she no longer reads as much as she used to, but she does enjoy falling into the worlds created by other Indie authors as often as hre vision will allow. Shadow of the Drill is her first published novel, and is the first in a series that revolves around an unrepentant enforcer and the violent life that he leads.
She enjoys chatting with readers and fellow writers via Social Media sites, and loves getting comments and other input from those who have read her work.