“Of course I would. I know both parts, but there’s no point. I would need an entire costume put together in my size, plus a custom-made wig. The makeup I could manage in a day, but the rest . . . forget it. It’s impossible.”

But it isn’t.

And with that in mind, I get to work.

Day after day, I accompany Hugo to his show, even though I know what’s going to happen and I can’t stop it, at least not yet. I have to be there to offer some kind of moral support. I get to know the queens better. They are smart, crass, and beautiful, and they don’t take themselves, or anyone else, too seriously. They really put it all out there, without fear. Or, as Bee tells me, with fear but also like a boss bitch who shows fear she can shove a size twelve stiletto up its ass.

I spend every waking moment I’m not with Hugo designing a costume and keeping it in the magic closet at night so all changes and alterations don’t get lost to the universe.

It’s half suit, half dress—the cut of the dress matches the red one, tulle and all, except I use royal blue fabric. He deserves to have the color he wants. I screw it up, over and over, messing up the measurements, needing to start over, but I figure it out and keep going. I have the time.

I find a long wig matching Dolly’s current choice of tresses and cut it in half. I cut a top hat in half, and manage to piece them together myself to make the wig secure.

It’s late one night when I hang up the dress on the back of the closet door and stare at it.

It’s done.

It’s ready. Tomorrow I can give him the outfit and he’ll be able to audition by himself, no Harry needed.

A grin spreads across my cheeks. I can’t wait! My heart thumps with excitement, considering his reaction. He’s going to be so surprised. And excited. This is a chance for him to achieve his dreams and I get to be a part of it.

Except . . . I press a finger to my lips.

How do I give this to him without it being weird? How do I explain that I happened to have the perfect outfit, in his favorite color, and it just happens to fit on a day he needs something exactly like it?

I rub my head.

And what about afterward? I need to get the costume back at the end of the day to put back in the closet, otherwise it might disappear and I’d have to start all over again from scratch.

Maybe I’m overthinking it. Everything will be fine.