Page 100 of A Certain Appeal
He lets out a low sound I’ve learned is a promise. His fingers press into my hamstring and I suck in a whimper. “Then I’m calling us a car.”
Opening Night
I cannot fix on thepenis, or themember, or theman-meat, or thebratwurst, which laid theerection. It is too long aphallus. I was in thejunkbefore I knew that I haddong.
I glance over the Mad Libs sheet at Ming, who trembles with suppressed laughter. “You found a thesaurus, I’ll give you that.”
“It doesn’t even make sense,” says Momma, reading over my shoulder. “The last one is supposed to be a verb.”
“Poetic license.” Ming chuckles and resumes her eyelash application.
Chloe sits on the edge of Ming’s makeup station, nodding as Ming presses her fingertips to the far edge of either eyelid, angling the lashes down. “Voilà!The student’s become the master.”
Ming flutters her lids, making the tinsel highlights in her false lashes glimmer. “God, I’m gorgeous.” She blows herself a kiss.
I roll my eyes, but I’m actually grateful for Ming’s unwavering Ming-ness; the consistency is making the evening a little less surreal. We’re less than an hour to showtime, and I’m pretty sure my entire midsection is comprised of quaking wings. The bulk of the crowd is friends and family, so we could bomb and still get a warm reception, but every moment I’m not actively engaged in show prep, my brain reminds me just how much has led up to tonight, how many people are bound to its success, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
Beside me, the dumbwaiter’s squeaking pulley announces the imminent arrival of the preshow bubbly. The delivery settles with a rattle of glassware, and I raise the hatch for the bucket and flutes.
“I love that thing.” Momma grabs a handful of stems to distribute around the dressing room. She was with Ming last week when Ming dropped by the club to set up her makeup station, and she volunteered to work tonight’s grand opening. After that, we floated the option to all our new regulars. Everyone available accepted. The dressing room is packed, but so far, the excitement is making up for any accidental elbowing, and there’s been zero squabbling. I have to hand it to Ming: she might have the sense of humor of a fourteen-year-old boy, but the woman is a master of group dynamics.
The room’s design was inspired by the velvet-and-tassels look I wrote off as too fussy for upstairs. Half a dozen vanities line the walls, each centered in front of a pleated curtain of pale pink velvet. I initially planned to cover the walls in the fabric, but Ming said the sketches looked “labial,” and, frankly, there was no unseeing that.
Each vanity is framed by bare bulbs, creating a halo of light aroundevery station, and there’s a coordinating pink ottoman in the center of the room. The thing’s going to be covered in body glitter by the end of the night, but that feels fitting.
I flick the light switch by the door of the vocalist warm-up space. A moment later, the light above the door blinks in response: Jane letting me know he’ll be a moment. The little room is fully insulated. Nary a sound escapes to or from the dressing room; impressive, but I miss hearing Jane’s vocal exercises.
My watch buzzes with a text.D:Office?
I grin. Darcy and I haven’t seen one another since this morning, and I hoped to check in before showtime. I scribble back:10 min?
When I look up, Chloe meets my eyes in Ming’s vanity mirror. “What’s that smile about, Lizard? Darcy need you to buff his desk?”
The room erupts in a chorus of faux-scandalized “Ooooh!”s.
“I told you about that in confidence.” I point at Ming, who bats her enhanced lashes innocently. “I blame you for this. She was perfectly well behaved before you.”
“Ten points if he figures out how to get that costume off of you.”
I shake my head but admire my reflection in her vanity mirror all the same. The playsuit makes me look like a superhero by way of a classic Playboy bunny, sans tail and ears. The plum satin is inset with velvet panels of the same color and is the most luxurious thing I’ve ever worn. The perilously deep V at the neckline required a whole other level of fashion tape, but that’s only a safeguard against all the bending over I’ll have to do during the show; the fit is perfection.
Diva trails Momma, pouring prosecco into the glasses, and I hand out the rest of the stems. Andrea presses through the curtain at the door, scowling at the tablet she holds.
“God, spare me the self-importance of an Academy Awardnominee’s personal assistant.” Andrea holds the tablet to her chest, taking a restorative gulp of her martini. “I was just on the phone for ten minutes with some brat who wouldn’t divulge whom, exactly, she was making a reservation for. Like I’m going to call the damnPost? Chloe, dear, do any of your clients use ‘Janet Doe’ for reservations? I need to know if it’s anyone worth putting up with.”
Chloe narrows her eyes in thought. “Yes.” She nods. “Andyes.Veryworth it. But her assistant is the worst.”
“Noted and noted.” Andrea hands off her martini glass to Diva, who freezes, rhinestone-studded brows drawn in confusion. Andrea taps furiously onto the tablet, then retrieves her glass. Diva shrugs and presses on.
“And, Tonic,” Andrea continues, “can you tell your boyfriend he can’t have the front island at stage right every goddamn weekend you’re booked? He looks like a baby mob accountant.”
Tonic covers her face with her hands and the room titters with giggles. Toby and Tonic was a pairing I couldn’t have anticipated. Unbeknownst to me, Toby snagged one of the business cards for Tonic’s aerial lessons at the Work It event, then spent the better part of a month trying to get up the nerve to make an appointment. Now I’m scheduling their weekend getaways and gleaning more than I’d like from calls to the office with contractors about where Toby’s installing aerial hardware in his new penthouse.
As far as I’m concerned, Toby can carve his initials into that front table. A few posts from his social media accounts, and Pemberley’s due to becometheplace for every techie and creative who can deign to be seen outside of Brooklyn on weekends.
I arch a brow. “Change your mind about separating business and pleasure, Andrea?”
“Never,” she says. “But he can at least explore the room. How are things down here?”
