Beware False Profits Read Online Free Page A

Pussycat has this contest once a month. We take men in the audience who want to transform and make them stars for the night. The audience votes for their favorite and she gets a prize. A facial, makeup tips, you know.”
    I didn’t, but I was learning fast.
    “And Joe…?” I asked.
    “I’m pretty sure that’s how Josephine was born. He was such a hit, he got a regular gig as his prize, I guess. You never heard him sing?”
    “In our church choir. Baritone. He gets all the solos.”
    “Oh, such a voice. Lots of us lip-sync. But not Josephine. His tone is so gorgeous. When he sings ‘Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves,’ I get all choked up.” She put her fingertips to her cheeks and swallowed hard. “That poor girl in the song, left alone and pregnant by a cad. Men!”
    Now Ed did pull his collar away from his neck. Me, I’d always felt the same way when I heard the song. I couldn’t help myself. I sang a little. “I was born in the wagon—”
    “Of a traveling show…” Dorothy joined in. Then she shook her head. “Oh stop, I’ll cry and mess up my eyeliner.”
    For Ed’s sake, I did. “So Joe performs regularly?”
    “I don’t want to get him in trouble. The girls and I stick up for each other. He’s one of us.”
    “Nobody’s trying to hurt Joe,” Ed promised.
    Ed has a wonderful voice, too. Deep, resonant. He’s mesmerizing from the pulpit—and that’s coming from the woman who washes his dirty socks. The voice and the inherent sincerity seemed to soothe Dorothy and make her decision easier.
    She started dusting sparkly powder over her cheekbones. “He came in on Thursday, like he was scheduled to do. He’s just here that one day a month, although he could be here more if he wanted. He’s such a favorite. Anyway, he opened his set the way he always does, with ‘If I Could Turn Back Time.’ He brought the house down.”
    She put down her brush and stood. “Let me show you what he wore.”
    We didn’t exactly have to follow her anywhere, so Ed didn’t protest. Dorothy took four steps and started rummaging through the rack. She paused, swept some more clothes aside, then she pulled out a dress I would have given a year of chocolate chip cookies to own. It was silver lamé, with a plunging neckline, rhinestones and pearls, and a hemline slit to eternity.
    “And that’s not all,” Dorothy said, shoving the dress at me.
    I grabbed it. I couldn’t help it. I held it to my nose and sniffed. I’m not sure what I expected. A whiff of testosterone? Old Spice aftershave? Chanel? But it smelled a little like sweat, a lot like a cheap Halloween costume. I was disappointed.
    “Here.” Dorothy whirled, holding the fur coat I’d seen in the photo out front. She cuddled it against her, clasping the bottom of the sleeves with her fingertips.
    The coat was gorgeous. I’d never seen anything quite like it. It was made from strips of fur of all colors and types. Silver, gold, ebony, spots…
    “Leopard? That’s against the law.” I threw back my shoulders and narrowed my eyes. “For that matter, every bit of it should be against the law. That’s not the Joe I know. He’d never wear that coat.”
    “Oh sweetie, relax. Take a deep, cleansing breath.” Dorothy demonstrated, and I was vaulted back to Lamaze class, training for the first labor pain.
    “It’s not real fur,” she said after the long exhale. “It’s fake, every bit of it. He had it made out of scraps Larry—he’s our manager—found in the garment district. But you better believe every girl here wants it. Every girl!” She held it out for me to feel. “See?”
    I did. The coat felt lush and silky, but it was clearly not real.
    “The coat is a problem,” Dorothy said. “Josephine is such a star. A lot of the regulars don’t like him. But they’re just jealous old biddies. He gets a lot of perks for a part-timer, you know. He shares this room with me when he’s here. He makes a suggestion, Larry says, ‘Fine, do it.’