Delilah Brie - Guesthouse Owner, Accidental Den Mother.

Tender when it counts, lethal when provoked, and always the loudest laugh in the room. Delilah runs The Pink Lady like a queer cruise director with a grudge—equal parts mother hen, mob boss, and martini-fueled chaos manager.

Once a Boston theater kid turned Drag Queen and Provincetown barkeep, Delilah inherited The Pink Lady from a mysterious “aunt” (who may have just been a friend of her mother’s with benefits). She turned it into a refuge for the fabulous, the fallen, and the flat-out weird.

Twice divorced, semi-retired from drama, she’s been holding this ragtag house—and herself—together with sarcasm, lipstick, and spite ever since. 

She’s learning to stop running from her own past while building a truly safe space for others.

Nunya Bizness - Sass-Slinging Drag Queen and Chaos Connoisseur.

Miss Nunya Bizness is nothing short of a walking exclamation point — a dazzling blend of audacity, style, and unapologetic queerness with a side of martini-slick mystery.

A razor-witted and gloriously unfiltered drag queen with a sixth sense for drama and a heart of gold buried under ten pounds of highlighter and questionable decisions. 

A glitter-drenched chaos agent in heels, Nunya Bizness is part drag queen, part town crier, and all attitude. With a tongue sharper than her contour and a heart hidden beneath swagger and Spanx—she’s The Pink Lady’s unofficial hostess, psychic-in-residence, and emotional support fire-starter. She’ll read your aura, your outfit, and your deepest secrets—before brunch.

Nunya Bizness is loud, loving, loyal, and laced with contradictions. She's the kind of woman who'll lend you her last lash glue but also tell you off if you wear kitten heels without irony. She's heart and armor, mascara and memory. 

And whether she's solving murders, stealing scenes, or stealing hearts, she is—unapologetically, undeniably, gloriously—her own damn business.

Father Tom - He knew how to save souls.  He just hadn’t figured out what to do with his own.

A sinfully hot priest. Tall, gorgeous, and built like a Greek statue that’s been hitting the gym. At first glance, Father Tom looks like the kind of man romance novel covers are modeled after: tall, sculpted, and hauntingly beautiful in that "forbidden fruit behind the collar" kind of way. At 6'1" with warm hazel eyes and a voice like bourbon — smooth, deep, and with just enough grit to suggest he's lived through storms — Tom is not your average priest. And no, he doesn't appreciate the jokes about confessional kinks or "laying hands" on the flock. (Though Nunya Bizness has made all of them. Twice.)

For some,  Tom is the town’s most confusing spiritual leader. He gives sermons that quote Bruce Springsteen, runs grief groups that turn into long walks on the beach, and is battling personal demons far more complicated than the ones mentioned in the Bible.

Father Tom is not your average man of God. He is faith and failure, compassion and contradiction, a man who carries both cross and conscience with humility and hidden ache. He doesn't need to be the hero of the mystery — but he will always try to be a light in it. Even when the light flickers.

Eden Lowell - Haunted realist with a badge-shaped hole in her soul.

Boston PD. Homicide. Twelve years. Two commendations, one suspension, and a final case that ended in a headline, a press conference, and a silence that stretched too long for comfort. She left not because she broke the rules, but because she didn't. And when you're a woman, and queer, and stubborn, and right—that's often the bigger sin. 

Quiet, sardonic, and haunted by what she’s seen, now a woman trying to remember who she is without the badge—or the guilt. 

She's an ex-cop turned quiet protector, whose sense of justice may be slightly dented but still shines. She’s become something of the local “fixer,” though she’d be the last to admit it. She doesn’t smile easily, but when she does, it’s usually for a good reason—or a very bad pun.

Nico Rivera - Beneath the sarcasm and cigarettes, he was just a kid  looking for a way out.

He’s the kind of man people underestimate—on purpose, usually. Soft smile. Softer eyes. Pretty enough to distract from the fact that he’s always watching, always calculating, always one question ahead. Nico isn’t a mystery. He’s a trapdoor.

Nico Rivera had once said on his podcast that everyone comes to the ocean for answers. What he hadn’t said—at least not on-air—was that he was still waiting for his. “Dead Air with Nico” had turned him into a minor celebrity with major insomnia. Now he just wanted a break from death. Unfortunately, Provincetown didn’t do breaks.

He wasn’t supposed to stay in Provincetown. He came for a summer. Maybe two. Then someone said his name with just the right kind of yearning, and suddenly he was renting month-to-month and rearranging his boundaries like they were throw pillows.

He works odd jobs. Mixes drinks. Helps at The Pink Lady sometimes when Delilah bribes him with gossip and baked goods. Spends half his time writing things no one will read and the other half trying not to care. He knows how to vanish in a crowd—and more importantly, how to be exactly what people want. That’s the real survival skill.

Sky - The quiet baker with a gentle soul.

Sky is still finding his place in the world. His transmasc identity is real and hard-won, but still new enough that he sometimes draws back—just a little—when someone gets it right. Like the joy is too big. 

Sky is the kind of young man who makes people look twice—not because he’s flashy, but because there’s a quiet defiance in him. A fragile bravery. He moves like someone who’s learning to trust his own limbs, to claim space he once felt guilty for occupying. A quiet soul with sad eyes and cinnamon hands, trying to disappear politely while accidentally becoming essential.

He’s in his mid-twenties, but feels older. Not in the “worldly” sense — in the “weathered” one. Soft-spoken, but with eyes that have seen things.

Sky loves to bake. He bakes because it gives him peace. In a world that rarely made sense, baking did. It was simple, measured, and predictable—follow the steps, respect the ratios, and something warm and good would come out of it. But it wasn’t rigid; there was just enough variation to keep it honest. A change in humidity, a little more cinnamon, a different hand shaping the dough—just like life. And maybe people liked his muffins, maybe they didn’t. That wasn’t the point. The point was that for a little while, it made the chaos quiet.

Sky’s future looks soft and golden, like rising dough. He wants a life where queer love and stray dogs are safe. He’s working on it.

Robert - The silent fixer with a fractured compass.

Robert has always been a man of few words and capable hands — the kind of guy who can rebuild a deck, carry a fainting drag queen up a staircase, or fix a busted air conditioner during peak July humidity without breaking a sweat or cracking a smile. Sun-kissed, scruffy, built like a lifeguard on his day off. Smiles like he's hiding something.

The handyman with the posture of a man carrying too many tools and too many secrets. The jury’s still out on whether he’s repairing The Pink Lady or whether she’s quietly repairing him. He’s been there for a while now. Fixing hinges. Avoiding eye contact. Feeling too much. He fixes things with quiet hands and a gaze that could melt a toolbox. He’s trying to navigate his own truths, inching his way toward self-acceptance, one crooked porch step at a time. 

Robert loves physical work — not in the performative, gym-rat way, but in the practical, meditative way that fixes things and silences thought. He loves using his hands to create order from chaos: a leaking pipe, a broken screen door, a garden overgrown with weeds.

He came to The Pink Lady three years ago during the off-season. He was supposed to fix a leaky roof. He stayed and fixed the plumbing, the porch, the heating system, and then… just never left. Delilah didn’t ask too many questions. He was shirtless a lot, respectful of boundaries, and could repair emotional trauma with the same precision he used on the water heater.