Page 36 of A Certain Appeal
I grin, even though he isn’t watching me. Twenty feet above us, Ginn and Tonic are radiant in all-white ensembles, contrasting brilliantly with the red silks dangling from Pemberley’s ceiling. The costumes are more conservative than what they wear at the club, for obvious reasons, and while they won’t be taking anything off tonight, performing a peel is hardly the most impressive feat in their collective wheelhouse.
“So...” Toby’s head drops to the side as he follows a sudden movement from Ginn. “Where’s this show you work weekends?”
I hold back a laugh at the idea of Toby at the club. His heart wouldstop. “Tribeca.”
“Interesting,” he says, voice distant.
I join him in appreciating the Twins’ skills, their choreography allthe more enchanting in the larger space. At Meryton, they are the clear focal point; there’s nowhere else to look. But in a room easily five times the size, the fact that they have more than two hundred people admiring them from all corners of the space highlights just how arresting they can be.
Tonic begins a wrap maneuver I recognize, moving more slowly than she’s done the times Jane and I have watched her and Ginn at their practice space. When she spots me, she freezes.
I sigh, then hold up my index finger and mouth, “One time.”
She beams and continues her ascent, twining the silk around her body more quickly.
I nudge Toby. “Brace yourself.”
Tonic reaches the peak of her climb and leans back, holding the silk with one hand and arcing her other arm up and over her supine form. After a moment in the pose, she releases her grip, unraveling from the fabric with dizzying speed.
Toby lurches forward as if to catch her from his place twenty paces across the room, but I grab his elbow. “Easy.”
He remains in a hunched position, hands outstretched. It’s actually endearing; everyone else circled around the Twins’ landing pad has the opposite reaction: gasping, followed by a quick retreat. A few collide with the railings around the edges of the platforms, narrowly avoiding a dip in the indoor lake. Tonic halts her fall inches above the startled onlookers. A beat of silence follows as she rotates above them in a casual recline. The guests recover with applause, and Toby lets loose a steadying breath. I pat his shoulder, then go to check on the evening’s other, more subdued source of entertainment at the piano.
When I get to Jane, he’s in the middle of a Gershwin piece, and I’m reminded of Wednesday’s surprise performance. We haven’t talkedabout the direction his song took that night, but then, I don’t think we need to. If the multiple consecutive evenings he’s spent out with Charles are any indication, Jane hasn’t had to spell things out for him, either.
“How are you doing, darling?” I take a seat beside him.
“I love these corporate gigs. Show up, look pretty—”
“You always look pretty.”
He sends me an air kiss. “I wouldn’t want to do these exclusively, but it’s nice to come up with a set list and go to town.” His fingers dance along the piano keys with a playful flourish.
“Glad I could hook you up, then.” I flick the brim of his fedora; the navy felt coordinates perfectly with his suit. “Plans for after?”
“A movie. Charles hasn’t seenMy Beautiful Laundrette!” he says, clearly scandalized.
“Quelle horreur!”
“You’re more than welcome to join, but that dress says you have greater aspirations.”
I sit taller, and the fashion tape anchoring the open back of my dress tugs against my shoulder blades. Tape aside, the dress fits like a glove. Through some tailoring sorcery, Ming darted and tucked the bust of the garnet sheath into cups and transformed the scoop neckline into a daring—but tasteful—sweetheart.
Alas, it seems I’ve wasted the dress’s debut. The party has been going on for more than an hour and so far, Wickham’s a no-show. We’ve texted a few times since our drinks at Ruin, but I haven’t heard from him since yesterday’s exchange about Toby’s new hoverboard. Part of me wants to check with Toby to see if he’s gotten any word, but I refuse—whether because of principle or pride, I’m not sure.
“Go put that thing to work.” Jane bumps me with his hip, nudgingme down the bench until I stand. “You’re going to spend hours organizing Ming’s costuming supplies to pay for it, anyway.”
“The party’s all coworkers and their plus-ones,” I say, though he has a point. We are celebrating a merger, after all: surely someone here’s worth a littlepersonalmerging. With that in mind, I return to the main gathering area around the lake, feeling out the vibe the way I would at the show. While it doesn’t buzz like Meryton, the crowd has a good, light energy. My performers are happy, the guests are enjoying themselves, and my boss is in a state of near-drooling adulation. I am officially off duty.
I beeline for the nearest waiter, accepting a pair of bacon-wrapped dates with a smile. His not-so-subtle appraisal of me and my dress takes some of the sting out of Wickham’s no-show. Chewing contentedly, I stroll to the railing bordering the lake with an eye on the drink server on the island across from me.
When I came to finalize the layout before the event, I had to sit down to absorb it all. It’s been years since anything I had a hand in designing has been realized, and while I can hardly take responsibility for the grandeur of the space itself, seeing the little touches I suggested was oddly affecting. The tea lights dotting the surface of the lake had been idle doodling; I didn’t realize I’d submitted them with the Work It plans. Marley, Pemberley’s manager, confided that when the owner saw them in my sketches, he insisted on tracking down floating votives to make them a regular feature.
Pride blossoms in my chest as I dwell on the votives drifting below. The lotus styling is a nice contrast to the industrial vibe of the rest of the space. The exposed steel beams and iron railing around the lake needed softening, which is why I suggested the ivory bunting. I didn’t anticipate it would serve as padding, too.
I lean a hip into the railing, drumming my fingernails against the metal. This place is being wasted as a venue for some generic event like this—even if said event has been meticulously coordinated. A proper show here would be incredible.
The bar forRed, White, and Boobsspurred a series of design concepts on the subway ride home that night. When Meryton’s limited scale couldn’t accommodate my idea for a custom chandelier for the Twins to work from, I upgraded to Pemberley. I already had the digital renderings of the current space, so it was easy enough to play with some ideas when I got home.
