Hunter managed to fit everything he owned into three large garbage bags. Fuck this life sideways: he was starting over. Hearing the "girls" cackling in the living room, bumping mixers of blow and poppers only reinforced this. Gathering all the bags in one swoop, he opened his bedroom door, chin held high and entered the Lioness Den.

"Well, well, where does this one think she's going?" DeLisha de Ville snarled, quickly gumming the stray blow on her upper lip.

"I told you Daryl, I'm moving the fuck out." Even under the heavy concealer and miles of fake lashes, Hunter could still see the venom and bitterness seething through her.

"Ay papi, don't go," said Cucina Cerrada, moving her long Carmen Miranda-eque train off the seat next to her. "Party with us."

"She thinks she's too good for us, Cucina," DeLisha continued, affixing a Capri Light to the end of her extendable cigarette holder. "She thinks she's moving up in the world."

"Movin' on UP!" scream-sang Sarah-Bra Palsey, so named for the jittery and manic way she lip-synched Amy Winehouse's "Rehab" when she first entered the scene during a Drag Race at Roscoe's. "To the EAST SIDE!" Sarah-Bra was in full character now, bouncing up-and-down giddily as she scream-sang.

"Well, to the east side of the street anyway."

"To a DEEEELUUUXE APARTMENT...!"

"QUIET!" DeLisha's ferocious command shut Sarah-Bra so abruptly mid-bounce that her wig fell crooked as she landed. DeLisha rose with a coked-up grandeur that would've made Joan Crawford green with envy. She slowly and specifically extended her long and bony arm out towards Hunter, the index finger pointing accusingly. ‘You think you're better than this. But I know you. I remember where you came from. You're nothing but a low-class, two-bit go-go boy. You were born in a trailer and you'll die in THE GUTTER!"

Hunter rolled his eyes. "You done? Cuz I gotta get goin'."

DeLisha scrunched her face in a smirk as she slithered towards him. "Oh no, darling, I am nowhere near done." She unbuttoned her double-breasted Jackie-O knock off, fished out a torn-open letter hidden under her falsie, crumpled it up, and threw it in Hunter's face. It was from Harold Washington College. Hunter should've been shocked that DeLisha opened it. Should've been, but it was shit like this that made Hunter want to move out in the first place. DeLisha slunk back down to the couch smugly as Hunter read with dismay something that she'd known for a week: Hunter's financial aid had fallen through and he wouldn't be able enroll in the fall.

"So you see darling, nothing is changing for you. Nothing. So squelch your delusions of grandeur and stay with us."

"Fuck you." Hunter said simply as he headed for the door. He threw the rejection letter back at them so suddenly that Cucina screeched something in Spanish and kicked a platform shoe up, knocking Sarah-Bra over. "Oh and you can keep the money you stole from under my mattress, Daryl. See you, like, never." And he was gone.

"NOOO! Don't go!" DeLisha screamed, reaching for the door with both arms. "You need me! You...I NEED YOU!" She broke into sobs as Sarah-Bra recovered from her almost concussion, bouncing up and down and clapping.

"Again! Again!" squealed Sarah-Bra, her Chrissy Snow wig still crooked and jiggling with each bounce. DeLisha slapped her, wiping angry tears from her face. She would get Hunter back, no matter what it took. Hell hath no fury like a drag queen scorned.

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