Kiernan Sullivan has a secret: in addition to being a great dad, husband, and private investigator, he also likes to dress up in drag. It's only a passing fancy -- nothing permanent, and certainly not anything to share with his family -- but it's still something he likes to do. And when he investigates cases, a disguise can go a long way.
Kiernan meets his greatest challenge when the person selling the drum kit he was going to get for his son turns out to be a violent predator. Caught off-guard and completely made-up from head to toe, Kiernan is in trouble. But more than that, so is his family. Will Kiernan escape and save those he loves? Or will he -- like his secret life -- remain hidden?
Kieran had ordered three outfits to his PO box for his business by the time the man selling the drum kit returned his message.
Hi Tasha. Yes, the kit is still available. Will be home all afternoon. Let me know what time you're stopping by and I'll make sure we can make the deal. Sincerely, Dan
Kieran was in the middle of a response when he realized the seller had used his wife's name. He was logged into her account. Something must have been overwritten when she forwarded him the message. Or she'd been using this computer, and her information was saved. Kieran was about to clarify that he would be the one picking up the drum set, a man and not a woman, when he stopped.
Wasn't this exactly the sort of opportunity he was looking for?
This man -- Dan -- lived two towns over. He'd never met Kieran before. Even if he had, through some chance occurrence on the police force, enough time had passed. And Kieran had had a beard most of the time he'd been a cop. He'd seen witnesses fumble completely on the stand or in a line-up if the man they had seen from a distance wore glasses and then didn't. A facial hair change could mess up someone's recollection even more.
So Dan would have no memory of Kieran. And if Kieran ... He looked out his office door, towards his wife's clothing. Her stuff was way too small to fit into, but he could mend it. His sewing skills were rusty, since they too had been given up along with theatre. The idea simmered inside of him until it had reached a low boil. Precisely when it became so strong, Kieran didn't want to pay attention to it.
Really, it was a dumb idea to take some of Natasha’s old clothing and mend it in an afternoon just so he could pretend to be a woman as he picked up some drums. That was very dumb indeed.
But her maternity clothing ... Kieran thought again. He'd been cleaning out the closet a week ago, and bagged up those items to donate, since as Natasha said, 'there was no way in hell I am having another person living inside me rent free' and all the sentimentality of the jeans with the super large waist had worn down. When Kieran had packed away those clothes, he'd even thought, I bet I could fit into them. It was a stray note, something that happened every so often, but he'd always kicked it aside.
Now he didn't want to.
Now Kieran felt like he did when he was solving a case. His heart rate elevated. His palms sweat. He was onto something. He was solving something. And the case of his gender, or whatever, rose to the top of the priority pile. There were a handful of things to figure out, but that didn't matter. He had time. He had resources. It was time to take the childish things that he had once put away, and reclaim them for himself.
Hi Dan, he responded before he could lose his nerve. I'll be there a little after four today. Does that work? Tasha.
