Page 47 of A Certain Appeal
I take a sip. The initial burn gives way to a sweet hint of coconut. “Michael, you’re a genius.” He shuts the cash register, handing me a stunning portrait of Mr. Franklin on linen. “Dangerous, but a genius.” I tuck the bill under the band of my watch.
Andrea swirls her martini. “As relieved as I am anyone was available tonight, it would have been nice if it had been Jane. No offense, luv.” She pats my hand. “Jane can also perform.”
I take another sip. I didn’t take offense in the first place, but the idea that I wouldn’t be able to contribute more to the show rubs me the wrong way and nudges against a promise I made. I have more to offer.
“I...” My heart lodges in my throat. This may be my one opportunity to have a design realized. I know I have the strength to ask. I just need to use it.
My airway clears. “I want to talk to you about that.”
Andrea’s smile is knowing. “I wondered when you’d get around to this. You’re the longest-running kitten we’ve had and the only one to ever content herself with the position.” She flicks her attention toward the stage. “You want to get up with the big girls?”
“Not quite. What... what do you and Charles have planned for renovations?”
Her smile shifts to something more curious. “It will depend on the final number, whatever the purchase agreement is, though we have that pretty well hammered out. We’ve been looking at design firms. Astronomical, any of the ones worth a damn. A few haven’t been interested in being involved with a venue with nudity, theprigs.” She takes a drink. “Why do you ask?”
I shake my head; this would be better with a visual. “I don’t have my file—”
Andrea eyes me over the rim of her glass. “Yourfile?”
“Of designs I’ve been working on. I have ideas I’d like you to consider for the renovation.”
She crosses her arms, thin brows knitted together. “Do you have experience with interior design?”
“It’s what I went to school for. I’mgood,” I say firmly. “I won an internship after I graduated, before I moved out here.”
“Aren’t you a receptionist by day?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “Things got complicated with the internship. I—” I run out of steam. “Really complicated.”
She snorts a laugh, revisiting her martini. “You find me one person without a complicated past and I’ll show you someone who doesn’t belong in New York.” She tips her head. “I’d be delighted to take a look. No promises, mind you, but after the paperwork’s been signed, you and I can have a sit-down with Charles, and we’ll look at these designs of yours.”
My jaw goes slack.All I had to do was ask?
Andrea laughs again. “You should see your face right now. You’re looking half-soaked!”
I assume what she said is some Birmingham equivalent of “shocked dumb,” because I’m at a loss for words. “Thank you?”
“I said I’d look and no promises. But if this is what suffices as good news for you, I’m happy to provide.” She giggles. It’s actually quite sinister, but for the moment, I can’t think of anything I’d rather be hearing. “You’re one of my girls, Kitten. It’s the least I can do.”
My heart thrashes in my rib cage, and when I raise my drink to take a sip, my hand is shaking. I asked. That was the first step. That’s all it took, and I didn’t have to go into any sordid details.
“Well, while I have you in such a light mood, perhaps you can tell me about this bloke the Twins are, I don’t know...seeing?” Andrea asks. “Are they shagging him, you think? Both of them?”
I follow Andrea’s gaze to a booth on the risers, where Wickham sits with the Twins. I was surprised to seeWickham, 3among the reservations when I came in earlier; I hadn’t heard from him since Monday’s drink. When their trio entered the restaurant, I almost laughed at the production. Wickham, in a black button-up shirtundone to the bottom of his sternum, looks like Jersey Zorro. Ginn and Tonic wear white... jumpsuits, maybe? Ginn’s neckline competes with Wickham’s. I can only imagine how much fashion tape is keeping her boobs in place.
“Who knows.”
Andrea pats my hand again and rises from her stool, martini in tow. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. I have some numbers to look over. See you this weekend.”
She makes her way toward her office back by the kitchen. When I finish my drink, I say good night to Michael, then swing by the trio on the risers. Wickham has his arms over the back of the banquette, Ginn tucked into one side of him, Tonic on the other. When I say good night, Tonic’s brows go high, her mouth forming a hot-pink “O” of protest.
“So soon?” she asks.
“I have an early morning.” It’s technically true; nine would be early for anyone at this table. I’d be begging off regardless. While my interest in Wickham waned before their “arrangement” took off, I don’t want to seem like a clinger.
Again, Tonic is the only one to respond with any degree of interest. “See you Saturday?” I nod. The farewell gesture gets a, “Later, Liz!” from Wickham, which, in turn, earns him a baffled frown from Ginn. Two-plus years working together, and it’s possible she hasn’t retained my real name.
I descend the short steps to the main dining area, pausing as I consider whether to change. My stuff is in the dressing room, but—my conversation with Andrea bubbles up again, and I smile.I did it!I asked her, and I’m getting a chance. Jane will be so proud of me. Thethought of giving him a vicarious thrill makes me grin even more fiercely.
