"Let me help you with your bags, sir." The man from the Dreamboats' road crew reached for Carver's suitcases. "This way to the bus, if you please."
"Thanks," said Carver. "What did you say your name was?"
"Leonard." The man smiled. He had a face like a horse--long skull, sunken eyes and high cheekbones, teeth like flagstones. His hair was jet black, and his nose was cut in a sharp crescent wedge like the blade of a hatchet.
To Carver, there was just one thing that revealed him as anything other than a complete stranger: the tiny, cross-shaped birthmark at the corner of his left eye.
Leonard was far more than a lowly laborer. In fact, he was not even a man.
Underneath the elaborate costume--the putty and makeup and hair dye and padding--Leonard was a woman. Carver was actually
