I asked. “Beret, honey. In here, it’s Beret,” he said. “But… what? I don’t…” I was speechless. “Well, it’s sort of an homage to our love of all things French. And it’s better than Ethel. I’ve learned a few tricks over the years. Listen kid, I love ya and I know you’ve got a million questions, but I’ve got a show to put on. Now that the cat’s out of the closet, so to speak, you may as well stay and watch. Just stand over there by Scotty, the sound guy, and then you and I can have a heart-to-heart after I’m done. Now do be a dear and bend down for those rocks. They complete my outfit. I would do it, but this gown’s too damn tight.” He (she?) batted his (her?) smoky grey eyelids at me as I knelt down to retrieve the jewelry bag at my feet. Beret quickly put the dangling diamond strands in her ears, gave me a how do I look? look, hands framing her face, then turned on her heels towards the stage. “Break a leg?” I said, as my uncle sashayed away, his/her sparkly covered ass swaying from side to side.
