By Yvonne Mason

  Chapter One

  The Pink Canary is my pride and joy. It took almost of my life savings between my day job and my night job to buy into the beautiful nightclub. It is situated between two other nightclubs the Bourbon St. Pub and the I Love the Nightlife, I love to Boogie on Duval St., the main drag in Key West; which is appropriate since we are The Drag Queen club. We have the best entertainment this side of Vegas.

   I own this sweet little piece of paradise free and clear. It wasn’t always that way. When I first bought the club, it was a half a day from closing down. The previous manager had absconded with all the money, his employees had not been paid, the vendors were headed to court and the nightly fights were legendary.

   I had just moved to Key West and by mistake walked into the club from Hell. Mike the Bartender was between two queens who were fighting over the same guy. There was wig pulling, clothes tearing, nail breaking, shoe slinging and name calling that could be heard five blocks away. The words, slut, whore, cheap, and a few others that I had heard during my lifetime were flowing like cheap wine. The spectators stood around yelling encouragement for their favorite queen and the guy who had been the source of this nasty cat fight was long gone with yet another lovely lady of the evening while music continued to play.

   I sat at the bar and watched the unscripted act until a couple of cops entered and carted the lipstick smeared, torn clothed, skewed wigged queens off to jail to cool off. Mike walked behind the bar and poured me another drink like nothing had ever happened. The few customers, straightened over turned chairs and upended tables, swept up broken glass, then went back to their conversations and the scripted act walked on stage.

   She was worse than the fight. She was dressed like she had just stepped out of Chez Goodwill and couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket full of holes. Her wig was a horrid shade of bright orange and hung around her shoulders like a molted fur. She had made her eyes up like a Raccoon on speed. It was a good thing I had no interest in anything but my drink. But that was soon to change.

   As I was sitting there lost in my beer, a suit walked in the door and handed Mike a piece of paper. He opened it, read it and then slammed it down on the bar.

  “Great, just great.” He said as he poured himself a drink.

  “Sounds like you got problems here in River City.” I said trying to lighten up the mood of the place.

  “Problems, man you don’t know the half of it. This place is getting ready to be locked tighter than a drum and all of us will be in the bread line.”

 I looked at Mike for a minute and said, “When does it go on the block?”

 Mike looked at the paper again and said, “Says here the first Tuesday of next month.”

 I took another swig of my beer swirled around on my chair and looked at the club for the first time. It had a lot of potential. The location was great, the interior needed some work, but it was sturdy. It already had an in house crew. I needed a diversion and this was just as good as anything. I needed to bring Lola back out of moth balls. It was time to get back to work. My Private Investigator business was not making me any money here in Paradise. No one cared who was sleeping with who and the crime rate was almost nonexistent so why not. I had the money, the time and the wardrobe minus a few of my favorites which were best left in the past.  

 “Look, hold off telling the rest of them for a few days. Let me see what I can do. Who is the owner of this dive anyway?” I asked as Mike poured me a fresh one.     

   “I don’t know some guy out of New York.” He replied as he sat my beer down.

  “Do you mind if I take this?” I asked picking up the legal paper that held the name of the attorneys involved.

 “Not a bit, help yourself.”

 I folded the paper and put it in my shirt pocket as I slowly sipped my beer and thought about things. It had been a while since Lola had come out to play. It was way past time for her to emerge. Yep, this might just work.

  The next morning I walked into the attorney’s office whose name was on the paper work. I didn’t have an appointment but it didn’t matter this was Key West. Things moved different here. It didn’t take long for money to exchange hands, phone calls to be made, paperwork to be signed, and then I was sole owner in this little diamond in the rough.  The bank was happy and I was as happy as I could be. It would be a nice diversion maybe I could get my mind wrapped around my life again and start living instead of existing. 

  No one lost their jobs; we only closed down long enough to repaint, repair things that need it, add dressing rooms and hire a band. No more lip syncing in this place.      

   She is a beauty this Pink Canary of mine. Her exterior walls are painted a Caribbean shade of pink, not quite the color of the bright pinks the sun throws on the sky in the evening when she sets at Mallory Square, but not quite the soft shade of pink of the flamingos that we sometimes see around town.  Even during the day the interior of this beautiful place screams Pink, from the carpet, to the bar to the stools to the stage, curtains and even the beacon atop the club that entices the curious to enter. Yep, I did, I added a six foot Pink Canary to the roof that acts as a guiding light for the wayward souls that meander to and fro on Duval St.  At night when the spot light drops to the stage one sees pink. What can I say, I look good in pink.

   My name is Lola and I am the headliner and owner of the hottest drag queen nightclub in Key West. Well, okay, I am Lola at night during the day I go by another name when I am undercover. No, I am not a cop. I am just a concerned citizen who wants justice for the killings that have been committed in my fair city. The killings are hurting business for all of us especially the gay nightclub business. And what Lola wants Lola gets!

Currently available in paperback, kindle and audio soon to be released

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