"You must be my Lucky Star!" Ambrose sang.

"Cuz you shine on me wherever you are," I giggled as Ambrose did a stripper drop move on the pole of the train car. Everyone stared at him and a mother covered her daughter's eyes and turned her away.

"Come on Ambrose, there's kids watching," I continued to laugh as I took his shoulder when he came back up.

"That's true, I was just trying to make you laugh. You're so serious today," he apologized, resting his head on my shoulder.

"Well of course I'm serious, I'm giving Georgina those pictures today," I nodded.

"Tell me how it goes, okay? I have to get to the club early because I'm reigning Queen and all."

I started to finger the black lace on the voluminous skirt of his Givenchy throwback dress. It was top quality. I couldn't figure out how he could afford such a luxurious fabric, but I didn't have time to think about it. It was probably from his friend "five finger discount" again. How does one "take" fabric from a roll? I decided to just shake off the thought. Ambrose could steal the tail off a horse without it knowing.

Our stop came and we gathered up our skirts so they wouldn't get caught as we rushed off. I was dressed voluminously as well, in my white and black dress from Audrey Hepburn's Sabrina. Together we walked up the stairs from the subway onto a familiar street. Ambrose was going to go one way, I'd go another.

He smiled and tapped my nose with his black satin gloved finger as always. "Here's lookin' at you, kid," he quoted from one of my favorite movies, and kissed at my cheek for encouragement and because it was fancy. He tipped his towering silver crown at me, which he would be giving to the next contest winner at Club Her Majesty, and went on his way. I watched him for a bit as he went, singing "Lucky Star" by Madonna just like on the train. I wanted to be going with him instead of doing the hard task at hand, but I had my duties and he had his.

I started to finger the quadruple stacked pearls around my neck for my own encouragement as I walked. They always had a way of calming me down, an ever presence that never changed. I sighed and clutched my purse tightly in my other hand as I entered Mrs. George's neighborhood. The quietness of the night in this section of the city overtook me. It was only about 8pm, but it was already dead quiet here except for the occasional passing car. It didn't seem possible.

I passed the Jewish 24 hour grocery store on the corner of her street, then thought better of it. One detour. For encouragement.

Going inside, I was met with the florescent lights like last time, but now they seemed glaring. I blinked violently and regained composure in their startling light. But I got startled again immediately seeing who was behind the counter.

The man sitting there on a stool was an older man, bearded and with a smart looking fedora on. He seemed to be from another era almost. He was reading the evening edition of the paper and smoking a cigarette even though a sign behind him said "no smoking". I wondered if he was the owner, to disregard such a bold sign. I had been expecting Charlie, but this person was so different from him it was jarring.

The man looked up at me as the bell jingled above my head on the door. He didn't lower his paper, but he began to stare at me, a long slow look. My uncomfortableness started up immediately. The thing that scared me the most was when men his age stared at me while in drag. Usually Ambrose was with me when I was in drag, so it didn't bother me as much those times, but now that I was alone...

I quickly walked to a case that was behind a shelf so he couldn't see me. With wax paper from it, I began to gather two pieces of chocolate rugelach and put them in a papery bag for a snack for Ambrose and I after the contest.

I didn't hear the man approach me from behind.

"Hey, drag queen," he said quietly. I startled something fierce and gasped.

"Don't be scared of me, I don't bite," I heard him say behind me with that same quiet voice. "Come with me." I turned my head to him, completely confused and unsure. He walked away back towards the counter, unsmiling.

Unsure what to do, I froze. What was this? Nothing resembling this had ever happened to me or Ambrose. I decided to follow the man and if he got frisky, I'd bolt. My heels were only four inches tonight, not a problem to run in if needed. I gathered my nerves, and breathed in. My feet began to take me in the direction of the man.

Up at the front, the man was rummaging under the counter. He looked pretty occupied with something.

"Yes?" I asked tentatively.

He looked up at me quickly, startling me yet again. I tried to control my jump response, but there's no way he didn't see it.

"Don't be scared," he said, still not smiling. "You're Charlie's friend. I recognize that dress from Sabrina? You're that Audrey Hepburn drag queen he told me about, helping Mrs. George. I'm Charlie's father. I own this store."

He straightened up and I was silenced with this information. Charlie talked about me...? It took me a second to recognize what he was holding out to me in a see-through papery bag.

"You must be here to see Mrs. George, right? Can you take these to her? Charlie forgot 'em when he was making his delivery this morning. Now he's on a date, that kid, and I can't let these sit any longer," he said calmly.

I looked down at what was in his hand. My head filled with wonder.

I took the three pieces of chocolate rugelach from him, the same kind I was holding in my other hand.

"Mrs. George can be kind of testy sometimes," he nodded to himself, clearly remembering some time with her and him. "If she doesn't answer her door, just take them for yourself. It's her loss, really. Oh and if you want 'em, don't worry about those ones you just picked out. It's on the house."

My eyes widened. No one had ever been this nice to me before in drag. Who were these people? I nodded, still too in shock about it to say anything.

"You're kinda quiet," he said, finally smiling, a small one, but unique. "I like that in a girl. Good quality."

Girl? My eyebrow went up, but he didn't seem to notice. He waved to me as I turned, and I walked out of the door very confused.

In about a minute I arrived at Mrs. George's apartment, but the doorman was gone. Probably for the night since it was so late. There wasn't a security guard or anything. I rang Mrs. George's bell from the street, buzzing and buzzing but there was no answer. I began to wonder if she had gone to bed, as old ladies sometimes do at ridiculously early hours. But then I remembered how she had been awake so late last Friday night. It was very odd.

"Mrs. George," I began calling from under her window. "Mrs. George, are you awake?"

No response. I shifted my footing, uncomfortable yelling in such quiet. The rugelach began to feel heavy in my hand, with purpose. I put my purse on the ground and piled the wrapped rugelach on top of it precariously. My hands cupped around my mouth, ensuring more volume.

"Mrs. George! Mrs. George, I have something for you! Are you awake? That owner of the grocery store wanted me to give you something! Can I come up and give it to you?"

No response again. The sound of a police siren in the distance made a burn start in my heart which traveled to my gut even though I had done nothing wrong. I swallowed and turned my attention back to the task at hand.

"Mrs. George? Can I please talk to you? I got your photo... I know I left with it, but I need to give it back to you!" The mention of the photo made the burn in my gut get worse. It sent a tingly feeling up to my shoulders and down my spine. I remembered the other pictures in my bag that I wanted to give her, and my resolve hardened.

"I'm sorry I destroyed your book, Mrs. George! But Ambrose gave me all these pictures from Miss Paula and I want to give them to you! I know it can't replace those photos, but please I want to give them to you! I'm sorry!" I called again, the nervous feeling overtaking my whole body as I mentioned the photo book I had ruined during our time together. The feeling was awful. It made me unsure if I wanted to cry or bolt.

The night was silence except for the wind. Clearly she wasn't coming. Her window was even darkened. I sighed deeply and looked down at the rugelach, feeling like a failure.

All of a sudden the sound of a window forcefully opening startled the shit out of me. My head snapped up to it automatically. An unfamiliar old lady with sad brown hair and a sweater set on was leaning out of her window with a mutinous expression on her face. It wasn't Mrs. George, the woman hanging out of her window on the second floor. She looked like she wanted to kill me and my mouth opened slightly in shock.

"Get the fuck out of here," she said fiercely, but hushed, as if not wanting to be overheard. "I oughta call the damn police. Who the fuck do you think you are, prancing around like that? No one wants you here. Get the fuck out of this neighborhood, you fucking freak." Her lower jaw wobbled in her anger at me, for no reason.

I was taken aback, but something in my heart was calm. A strange mixed feeling. I closed my mouth and smiled at her pleasantly, crouching down to pick up my things off the sidewalk. I nodded to her, still smiling, my heart dropping into my stomach as my face burned. "Thank you, I'll go," I said with forced composure, and turned to walk the way I had came.

Now that was familiar feeling. No surprises there.

At Club Her Majesty, I sat with Ambrose at a table in the audience, watching the drag queen MC directing people making last minute checks on stage before the contest. The MC was dressed in a red sequined dress, kind of like Tootsie, but not. He was an older queen, too old to participate in pageants, but too beloved by the community to be forgotten, thus the MC job.

Ambrose was slowly finishing his rugelach, having listened to the entire story about Charlie's father, Mrs. George not answering, and the way that rude lady had treated me. He looked at me, and began rubbing his hand between my shoulder blades in his familiar comforting way.

"Obviously someone wants you there," he told me quietly, looking at me despite the distractions going on in front of us. "Charlie's dad at least. Charlie, too. They want you there. We've got to keep trying. We can't let one stupid little old lady stop us. There's something very important going on over there, and we're a part of it, because Georgina was Miss Paula's dear friend. We've got to help her, give her those photos. "

I sighed deeply and looked down at the ground. I felt Ambrose's expression change without seeing it, felt it as his rubbing between my shoulder blades intensified in warmth.

"You should have seen her face, though. She was so angry at me her jowls were wobbling, like a bull dog ready to attack."

Ambrose sighed with me, then his hands were on either side of my face, holding it and turning it to himself. He looked me in the eyes, his pretty hazel flecked eyes. "She's wrong, Ruiz," he told me with sureness. "She's so wrong. Who is she? Just some stupid old lady who yells at people for no reason. So full of hate she embarrasses herself in front of a complete stranger. She doesn't know anything. She doesn't, Ruiz."

I nodded, his hands still holding my face. He smiled gently to me, then made to kiss my cheek, almost touching my skin, but not due to his blood red lipstick. He leaned down and picked up his shiny black purse. I watched him bring out a golden lipstick with a rosy pink band around it's casing. I began smiling myself, if only a little bit.

"Now come here," he beamed at me, "your lipstick rubbed off a bit when you were eating. I'll fix you right up."