Chapter 17
In my professional opinion, the most ludicrous part of Happiest Season isn’t that Abby chooses Harper over Riley (yes, I’m biased by my Aubrey Plaza crush), or that she didn’t have some inclination that Harper wasn’t out to her family, or even that Mary Holland’s character had her fantasy novel sold, published, and on shelves in under a year.
It’s that this middle-of-nowhere part of Pennsylvania has a full-blown Santa drag show in a dive bar. Ripton would freeze over first.
Cash has always been obsessed with drag culture—it’s what initially inspired his costume design dreams—and he got me into it too, starting with a steady diet of King Princess and Chappell Roan and RuPaul’s Drag Race Holi-Slay Spectacular .
I figured it was the closest we’d get until we can start living our big-city dreams.
So when I find out that our savior is a drag queen taller than Sam Smith, I’m certain we’re back to inhabiting one of my big gay Christmas movie scripts again.
She’s gorgeous, with sharp, high-arched brows over kind eyes framed by smoky black shadow and a thick winged liner.
She has on the coziest-looking coat I’ve ever seen—red tartan with a high faux-fur collar—black leather gloves, and a shiny cuffed cloche cap that looks like a black cat perched on her head, adding even more inches.
“I cannot express how much we appreciate this,” Audra tells her, then turns to us. “You all should bow in the presence of this greatness. I give you the singer, accordion frontwoman extraordinaire, and premier drag polka baddie in all of Brooklyn.”
I’d question her competition in this category—my only reference for polka is Home Alone —if I weren’t so starstruck.
“Oh, be still my heart. Aren’t you the sweetest?” this queen says in a Southern accent that reminds me a little of my mom’s. Then she turns to us and adds, “The Kickers from Queens. That’s my band.”
“Amazing!” I say. Truly this human could say anything and I’d have the same reaction.
“Johnna, this is my brother, Izaac, and his friends, Diya, Cash, and Bennie. And this is—”
“Johnna,” she intervenes. “Johnna Candy. Pleased as punch. So, sounds like y’all are trying to get somewhere, and obviously this train ain’t leaving the station.
” She gestures to the sign and laughs. “I know this sounds like the tagline for serial killers and weirdos, but our van is right this way!”
“Wait, you’re giving us a ride?” Izaac is incredulous.
“Did you think I was going to leave y’all stranded here at the G stop on the cusp of the apocalypse? Be serious!” Johnna replies. “We’re headed for a benefit gig on the other side of town and will happily drop you on the way. Audra here has impeccable timing.”
“Well,” Audra says. “I did get a very important super-secret message from my old roommate.” She glances at Izaac.
“The code ?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “That actually meant something?”
“Sure did.” She smiles. “The dude is in another universe most of the time, but he’s the biggest Kickers stan on this planet. He’s always trying to decipher the clues.”
“Clues?” Diya asks.
“We like to have a little fun with our fans. Our schedule isn’t posted—it’s dropped ,” Johnna says.
“In code,” Audra adds. “Easter egg–style.”
“We like to bring the drama, let the real ones prove their love, if you know what I’m sayin’,” Johnna adds with a wink.
“Anyway,” Audra says. “I’m sorry to ask, I just… didn’t know what else to do.”
“Nonsense! Happy to help,” Johnna says. “We just so happen to be headed in your direction.”
“You’re going to a gig with the storm?” Diya asks.
“Christmas comes but once a year!” Johnna laughs.
“And a good blizzard even less. Besides, people still love to polka in the snow. Maybe especially in the snow! Anyway. The van is better than a Vegas dressing room and more stable than a false eyelash on a humid day—not to mention your average Lyft or New York taxi. So! If you don’t mind squeezing in with some brass and brassy ladies, we’re at your service. ”
“Well, we really appreciate it,” Izaac says.
“Especially since it’s in the name of love.” Audra winks at me, and I instantly feel my cheeks flush.
“Excuse me? Love? Now I’m going to need you to get in that van and say more !” Johnna says.
Ten minutes later, we’re piled into the back of a van loaded with gear: two accordions, a trumpet, a trombone, an acoustic guitar, and a xylophone. There’s even a small box in the corner with harmonicas and plastic kazoos.
A string of lights runs the perimeter of the cab, illuminating a Christmas tree, a menorah, and a rack of costumes, almost all of which are covered in various shades of sequins. Literal sparkles everywhere.
The van itself is obviously a custom job. It has a row of seating along one side, across from a sink, a set of cabinets, and even an induction burner. The Kickers must do a lot of living on the road. Who knew a life like this even existed?
Which reminds me…
“Excuse me, Johnna, would you mind being on camera?” I raise my camcorder, and in return, Johnna raises a perfectly arched brow, questioning. I take a breath and clarify. “It’s just for a little personal project. I promise it won’t be, like, all over social or anything.”
“Well, as long as you don’t give away any behind-the-scenes secrets of this illustrious operation,” Johnna says, gesturing around at the van and piles of equipment. “We don’t want to spoil the magic.” She winks.
“Preserving magic is basically Bennie’s life’s work,” Diya says.
“Well then, you have come to the right place! We are committed to preservation. In our case, of the time-honored traditional treasure known as polka,” Johnna proclaims. “Who here is a fan?”
I’m trying to think how to answer politely, but before anyone can respond, Cash literally gasps.
“Oh my god, is this Gabriella Slade?” He points to a photo posted on one of the walls in the van. In it, Johnna stands smiling and towering over a woman with a middle-parted bob and round glasses, holding a Tony Award.
“Good eye!” Johnna says. “She’s a doll.”
“Are you friends with Gabriella Slade?” Cash asks, and I am legit worried he’s going to burst into glittery flames.
“Well, on my good days we’re friends, but there are probably times that she’d consider me more of a pain in the brass .” Johnna cackles and it’s delightful.
I assume this is polka humor, but Cash stares wide-eyed, so I’m confused.
“She’s a famous Broadway costume designer,” Diya mutters to me.
“You’re such a small human,” Izaac says. “Where do you store all this information?”
“Anyway, that’s a story for another time,” Johnna says, not registering our exchange and continuing, although Cash looks like he’d prefer that time be right now. “I wanna know your story. Y’all don’t seem like you’re New Yorkers, forgive me for saying.”
“I don’t know. Cash was initiated by way of rodent invasion just today,” Diya says.
“Well, that’s a story I don’t know about,” Audra says, “but they’re visiting for the day.”
“In the middle of the Polar Quasar? That takes some steel snowballs.” Johnna laughs and slaps her knee. “Also, Polar Quasar should be someone’s drag name.”
“I nominate Cash,” I say, and he smiles.
“Ohhh, I like it,” he says. “I’m seeing a very blue-and-white arctic kind of number, lots of fur and sequins that glitter like snow in the winter sun.”
I love when he gets like this—all dreamy and grand. I make sure I’m getting his creative process in action.
“Oh, yes ,” Johnna says. “That is good .”
Cash’s eyes go wide again, and I can tell he’s trying to decide if she’s serious. Johnna rubs her hands together and turns to Izaac. “So, did you come to see your sister?” she asks.
“We did,” he says.
“Ehh,” Audra says. “Let’s not pretend this is all family reunion. You guys had ulterior motives.”
“True.” Izaac nods and looks at me.
“We’re here in the pursuit of love,” Cash says, settling into a seat beside Izaac.
“Ohhh.” Johnna raises her perfectly painted eyebrows and coos, just as a short human in a driver’s cap climbs behind the wheel.
“Gus, these are our guests,” Johnna announces. “Guests, this is Gus, who will be piloting the vehicle this evening to where the rest of the band is waiting. They are also our illustrious manager, and my best friend.”
“Pleasure,” Gus says, tipping their cap in our direction. “Did I hear something about a love story?”
“You did!” Johnna replies, then leans forward with her chin on her fist. “Please, regale us with the romantic tales of youth. We’re starved for romance.”
“And youth,” Gus adds.
“Well, Bennie here is on a mission to find and secure the love of one mysterious and beguiling girl named Eve, who works at a bakery in the magical land of Cobble Hill,” Cash says, taking the lead.
“Beguiling?” I give him a look, and he takes a small bow.
“The rest of us are here to help shepherd her through the process,” Izaac adds.
“And provide comic relief,” Audra says.
“Plus, manage some of the logistics of the aforementioned mission.” Diya crosses her arms, as if this is a greatly underappreciated role.
“But most importantly, to make sure she gets a kiss!” Cash adds. “Her first.”
I shoot him a look. Not daggers, exactly—more butter knives—because now they’re all looking in my direction and a flush creeps into my cheeks. I can’t imagine Johnna won’t find this whole first kiss quest kind of lame.
“Searching for Eve on Christmas Eve Eve?” Gus says, navigating slowly through traffic on the Brooklyn–Queens Expressway. “That’s too good.”
“I love this for you!” Johnna slaps my knee and a flicker of excitement runs through me. “And no better place for a big gay Christmas love story than New York City, is there?”
“That’s what we’ve been saying all day!” Cash says, and squeezes Izaac’s hand.
“And no one knows romance better than Bennie Bosley,” Izaac adds.
“Well, that’s a bit of a stretch,” I mutter.
Johnna waits, looking at me. “Why do you say that, gorgeous?”
The gorgeous part makes me all toasty and awkward.
“I just mean, my lack of… experience.”