Page 80 of A Certain Appeal
I dip my chin and turn in a slow circle, shaking my booty for emphasis.
“You are not coming home tonight, are you?” he asks.
“Not alone.”
Chloe stops short in the doorway, freezing with an arm out to give Jane a hug. She helped with makeup before the eight o’clock, and I asked her to update my look for costume two. She falls against Jane. “You look more naked than if you actually were. What is this?”
“A little something special.”
She finally exchanges hugs with Jane, who ducks into the supplycloset to warm up his voice. “Mr.Special is upstairs with Charles and Gales,” she tells me, and tips her head, still taking in the little there is of my outfit. “He’s going to die. You’re going to kill that poor man and there’s nothing he can do about it.”
Ming drapes herself over the back of her chair. “But what a way to go.”
Chloe beckons me to a seat beside Ming. “I’m switching you to something softer. Still a red lip.” She unzips her makeup kit. “I have a smooch-proof stain the two of you will appreciate.”
Ming watches Chloe work. Despite Chloe’s declaration of impending best friendship a few weeks ago, Ming had her reservations about letting a stranger handle her false eyelashes earlier. After Chloe showed her a new way to apply them, tipping the outside corners down for a dreamy, coquettish look, Ming’s studied every brushstroke and pencil line like a dutiful student.
After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Ming leans back in her seat. “JOHNNY!” Chloe and I flinch at the sudden sound.
“WHAT?” Johnny replies from the hall, equally loud.
“Have Kitten do a sample peel for the ten o’clock!” Ming wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Get your evening started a little early,” she says in a normal voice.
Peel?My Darcy-induced nerves start to quake in earnest, joining the kaleidoscope of preshow butterflies in their regular test flight.
“A peel?” Chloe asks.
“EH?” says Johnny.
“Kitten!” Ming barks. “Have her PEEL!”
“KITTEN?” A folding chair scrapes against the concrete floor in the other room, and Johnny’s footsteps sound down the short hallway. “Kitten, do you want to do this or is Ming volunteering you—holyshit.” Johnny finishes his statement as he steps into the room, getting an eyeful of my costume. He nearly drops his playing cards. “Oh, yeah. You’re doing a peel. Lordy, Kitten. Warn a guy before he walks in on this.” He cocks his head. “Or don’t.” He salutes me with the cards, then heads back to his game. I arch a brow at Ming.
She shrugs. “You can name your firstborn after me.”
My preshow and pre-Darcy jitters careen wildly, colliding to create a feathery gob of anxiety and hormones. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I tell Ming, and go to the wardrobe rack and the little black dress I’ve left here for peels.
My hand hovers over the hanger. This feels like a test of my principles. I changed into my second outfit as a preview for later. But to peel in front of Darcy, knowing he’s in the audience...
Just because burlesque appeals to men doesn’t make it an appealtomen.
That very much remains the case. However, as I remove the dress from the hanger, I can’t ignore the thrill at the thought of his watching. I finger the bright pink tassel looped onto the zipper pull. If he weren’t here, I wouldn’t even hesitate—I’d do it becauseIwant to. And I did warn him I wouldn’t be cutting this from my life.
I think back to Darcy’s parting words last night, the heated moments leading up to it, our time in the coat check, the dance we shared...
A little invincibility might be just the thing.
Twenty minutes later, I stand at the top of the stairs, a goddamn bundle of nerves. Naturally, Johnny has chosen tonight to try out a new bit and has been harassing a bachelorette for pictures of her intendedsince he wrapped his intro. I don’t know how much longer I can stand the tension; if Johnny doesn’t shut up and let me take off this dress, I’m going to yank him from the stage with his mike cord.
It’s also getting hard to keep from watching a certain quartet. Andrea seated them in the same space Darcy and Charles had that first night, combining it with a neighboring table to make a four-top. Darcy watches me with open curiosity, his expression pleasantly intrigued, like he’s trying to work something out and is enjoying the challenge. Every now and then his eyes shift low, and I imagine he’s fantasizing about what I’m wearing under my comparably conservative dress.
“Ladies, gentlemen, sexy people across the spectrum,” Johnny calls. I snap to attention. “Allow me to introduce you to Meryton’s esteemed stage kitten, Miss...”—he draws out the title—“Kitten...”—the spotlight swerves toward me—“Caboodle!”
The cluster of wings in my chest vibrates so rapidly, it feels like it’s going to tear itself apart. I stroll through the crowd, which offers polite applause, and ascend the stage to stand beside Johnny.
“For those who might not be familiar with how these shows work, Kitten is going to give you a chance to practice sharing your appreciation. What do you think, kitty cat—a glove peel?”
I raise my bare hands and screw my lips to the side in an exaggerated show of contemplation. Then I grin. I spin to present my back to the crowd, swaying just enough to send the tassel swinging side to side.
