by Logan Belle
Patricia lay next to her and pulled her close. They held each other for a minute, and Patricia laughed.
“I don’t think you were scared of fucking me with that,” she said. “You just wanted it all to yourself.” She kissed the top of Poppy’s head.
“I had no idea it could be that good.”
“Baby, that was nothing. Tomorrow, I’m taking you shopping.”
Poppy liked the sound of that. Tomorrow. But she knew that for now, she should go. But when she stood to get her clothes on, Patricia grabbed her hand.
“Where are you going?”
“It’s so late. I should get home.”
“I wish you would stay,” Patricia said.
It was the first time anyone had asked her to stay the night since she’d moved to New York three years ago. Poppy sank back into bed, pressing herself against Patricia, who put her arm around her.
“Does your cat sleep in the bed?”
“I’m a one-pussy woman, Poppy. The bed is just yours and mine tonight.”
Mallory closed the door to her suite at the Palihouse. She sat on the couch, where just twenty-four hours ago she had sat worried that she would not be able to pull off Bette’s routine. But she had not only done it: she had done it, and loved it.
She pulled her phone out of her bag and dialed Bette’s cell.
“It’s me,” she said.
“Let me go somewhere quiet—hold on!” Bette said over the sound of club music. Mallory waited, sifting through her bag. She found the envelope Justin had left for her in her dressing room, which she had yet to open. “Okay—tell me!” Bette said.
“Where are you?
“The Bellagio. Zebra’s hotel room. She’s having a little get-together. Now tell me.”
“It went great. Amazing, actually. I remembered everything you taught me—it all came together. By the middle of the performance I was barely thinking except for the logistics of getting the costume off—my body just knew what to do. And I love that song, and your choreography is perfect for it. I was thinking of adding one last turn at the end, but there was nothing else to take off, and I remembered you saying each movement has to mean something for the overall reveal so I didn’t mess with it. . . .”
“Did you remember what I said about not mingling with the guests before your performance—about staying elusive?”
“Yes.”
“I’m proud of you! I just wish I could have been there to see it. Oh, Zebra says she is proud of you, too.”
Mallory shook her head. How had her life come to this—the biggest pop star in the world was being supportive of her burlesque debut!
“How are you?”
“Mallory, this is it. I feel my life in motion. The paparazzi photographed me leaving the hotel with Zebra. I guarantee I will be in Us magazine next week.”
“How are things with you two?”
“She’s unbelievable in bed.”
Mallory smiled. “I’m so happy for you.”
“I’m happy for you! So when do you want to audition for the Blue Angel? That is what you want now, right?”
“Yes, “ Mallory said, admitting it for the first time, even to herself. “Can you help me?”
“Of course I’ll help you. We’ll talk when I get back.”
“When are you flying home?”
“I don’t know, Moxie. But you’ll be the first to hear.”
Mallory could imagine the devilish look in her beautiful blue eyes.
“Be good,” she said.
“I’m always good,” said Bette.
Mallory ended the call, then sank back in the sofa. She looked at the time, then calculated New York hours. In less than twenty-four hours, she would be with Alec.
20
In the earliest hours of the morning, she fumbled for her phone in the dark and dialed Alec.
“Hey,” he said. “What are you doing up so early?”
“I’m too wound up to sleep,” she said, which was true. “I’m excited to see you tonight.”
“I’m excited to see you, too,” he said. “I miss you.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do! Call me when you land,” he said.
“Okay. I love you, Alec.”
“I love you, too, Mallory. You know that’s not the issue.”
“So what is the issue?”
“I don’t know. Trust? I never went outside our relationship for anything the entire time we were together. I know I pushed you to do things that sometimes you were hesitant to do, but we always explored those things together. And it made us closer. Then the minute we had a fight, you went to someone else—physically and emotionally you went to that person. You made decisions about your job that affect both of us as a couple without talking to me. I felt very excluded, Mallory.”
“Okay,” she said. “I can see how you would feel excluded. And I’m sorry, Alec. I really am.” She knew she had to tell him about the Baxter party, and about her plans to audition at the Blue Angel. But she wanted to do it in person. “Let’s continue this conversation tomorrow night. I want to be able to put my arms around you and show you how much you mean to me.”
“I like the sound of that. I can’t wait to see you.”
She hung up, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. And then she remembered the envelope from Justin Baxter. She quickly opened it, and pulled out a check for five thousand dollars. She wouldn’t have to worry about getting a temp job next week or even next month. This bought her time to focus on the Blue Angel.
There was no turning back. Moxie was part of her now. She would just have to find a way to help Alec see that Moxie loved him, too.
The plane landed, and the captain told them they could turn on their wireless devices. Mallory dialed Alec before she even pulled her bag out of the overhead bin.
“It’s me—I just landed,” she said, nearly breathless. “I’ll meet you at the apartment?”
“Please don’t,” he said.
Mallory was sure she’d heard him wrong. Her ears must be clogged from the descent.
“What did you say?”
“I don’t think you should come over, Mallory.”
“Okay. Do you want to meet for dinner? I’m starving.”
“I don’t want to meet at all.”
“What are you talking about? We just had a whole conversation this morning about what was bothering you and moving ahead with our relationship . . .”
People were pulling down their luggage, a line was forming in the aisle to deplane.
“Yes. A whole conversation in which you failed to mention that you stripped at a party in Malibu last night. Apparently, Billy Barton was quite impressed with your performance.”
Oh, no.
“I wanted to tell you about that in person,” she said.
“You lied to me—again! You said explicitly that you were not involved in that party—that you were just in LA to clear your head.”
“I can explain. Bette needed to go to Vegas and . . .”
“Yeah. Somehow Bette is always involved. I don’t see how there is room for us to have a relationship when clearly Bette has more to do with your life these days than I do.”
“You’re not being fair,” she said. “I think we need to talk about this face-to-face.”
“I don’t want to see you.”
“If you are ending this, you at least owe it to me to see me,” she said, starting to cry.
“I don’t want to end it, Mallory, but I can’t be in a relationship where you lie to me, and I can’t trust you. I will never know who you are with or what you are doing as long as you’re hanging around that club. The only way this is going to work is if you stop going there and promise me you will stay away from Bette.”
“You’re making me choose between you and the Blue Angel?”
“Is it really a hard choice? I can’t believe you say it like that.”
She watched the line of people start to leave the plane. All she could do was sit
hunched in her seat, clutching the phone.
“We’ve been together since we were twenty-two. We’ve both changed and taken on new interests along the way. I didn’t get upset when you got so involved with Gruff, when you started hanging out with Billy Barton and going clubbing.”
“The difference is, I found a way to include you in that world. I could have gone to burlesque shows for that article and never mentioned it to you, but instead I brought you to a show so we could share the experience. And fine, maybe I pushed too hard for the three-way, but at the end of the day it was still something we would do together. You, on the other hand, go off and sleep with a woman alone the night we have a fight; you get involved with this club without even mentioning it to me. You never thought to tell me so I could watch you or somehow feel it was a part of our life and not totally outside of it. That is why the relationship is ending, Mallory. Not because I can’t deal with your changing.”
“I want to include you!”
“It’s too late,” he said. And hung up on her.
Poppy sat curled against Patricia on her pillow-laden sleigh bed. They were watching a DVR marathon of The Good Wife (Patricia loved legal dramas) when Poppy’s phone rang.
“I’ll pause it,” Patricia said.
“Hello?” Poppy didn’t recognize the incoming number.
“Hey, it’s Alec Martin. Can you talk?” When it rained, it poured! Too bad for him he was a day late and a dollar short, as her mother would say.
“Sort of. What’s up?”
“You were right—Mallory did perform at that party.”
“Oh, Alec, it’s not a big deal. I mean, it’s just a party,” she said. Patricia stroked her inner thigh.
“Can you meet me somewhere for a drink? I just need to talk,” he said.
“I don’t know—” She looked at Patricia. “When?”
“Now?”
“Hold on a sec.” She covered the phone and told Patricia that Mallory’s boyfriend wanted to talk to her. “He sounds traumatized,” she said.
“Go—but don’t be too long. I’m already feeling possessive.” Patricia bit her shoulder lightly.
“Okay,” she said to Alec. “I’m in your neighborhood. Pick a place, and I’ll be there in ten. But only for a little while. I have plans tonight.”
“Good for you! Is it her?”
“Who?”
“The woman you were telling me about at breakfast.”
“Oh—no. Someone better.” She smiled at Patricia. “Much better.”
She met him at Wicker Park, a loud sports bar on Third Avenue. He was sitting in a booth near the door and looked like someone had run over his dog.
“Thanks for meeting me,” he said.
“Sure. What can I do?” He was so obviously forlorn she felt bad and forgot all about Patricia waiting for her back at the apartment.
“I wish you could somehow help me understand this world that has pulled Mallory in so strongly. She tells me her interest in burlesque has nothing to do with me, but it feels like there is a third person in our relationship suddenly. She never lied to me before, and now I can’t trust her at all.”
“I don’t know that much about relationships. I never have good ones.”
“Do you think I have something to worry about? Is she having an affair with Bette?”
Poppy felt a tug of jealousy just at the thought of it. Then she remembered how good it felt to be with Patricia, and she let it go.
“I don’t know. I doubt it.”
Her phone rang. Strangely, the incoming number was Bette’s.
“Speak of the devil,” she said. “I’m going to take this outside. Be right back. Hello?” she said, pulling on her coat and walking outside.
“Hey, Poppy. It’s Bette. I need a favor. Can you cover my shifts this week?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Everything is great—never better. But I’m away, and I’m not going to be back for a few days.”
“Agnes is going to freak,”
“I know. But this is a good development for you, Poppy. You can fill my place—it’s a chance for you to be in the spotlight.”
Poppy’s mind raced, imagining herself headlining the show every night.
“Agnes might fire you for this. Missing one show for a private party is one thing—but bailing on a whole week? And the Valentine’s Day show is coming up. Will you be back by then?”
“I don’t know, so I need one more thing from you: get Mallory an audition with Agnes. I would set it up myself, but she is going to be too angry with me to listen and give Mallory a chance. Without me around, she will be looking to you to lead things. I’m counting on you to make this happen, Poppy. Can you do it?”
“Yes,” she said, excited and confused at the same time. “I don’t get it, are you quitting?”
“Just get Mallory the audition. And be ready to rock your performances this week so Agnes doesn’t miss me too much, okay? The show must go on, and all that.”
“Where are you?”
“Vegas. Go to Popbaby.com, and you’ll understand.”
The line went dead.
Poppy went back inside.
“Do you have an iPhone?” she asked Alec.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Go to the Web site Popbaby.com.”
He pulled up the site. “What am I looking for?”
She took it out of his hands and skimmed the posts. “Holy shit! Look at this: Zebra Changes her Stripes: the perennially private pop star is seen out and about with new gal pal, burlesque performer Bette Noir. She’s hooking up with Zebra!”
“That’s just a gossip site. That stuff isn’t always true.”
“Look at this photo.” She showed him a picture of Bette and Zebra kissing at a Vegas Starbucks.
“I guess she’s not with Mallory,” he said.
“See? It’s all cool. Just call Mallory up and work it out.”
“It’s not that simple. She still cheated on me. She slept with Bette when she was never willing to do that with me as a couple.”
“Maybe she needed to do it for herself before she could do it with you.”
“I don’t know. I still think the club is a bad influence on her. She’s blown her whole legal career.”
Poppy took a deep breath.
“I have a confession to make: I set that up. I got her busted.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“I was jealous. All I wanted was for Bette to teach me everything, to help me become someone at the club. And she showed more interest in this random woman who didn’t even want to be a performer! It was so unfair. Even Agnes seemed to like her. So I wanted to throw Mallory off her game. And maybe get her in trouble so she stopped hanging around the club. I never thought she would get fired. And it just made things worse because without the job she started hanging out at the club more. And now she wants to be a performer.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Yeah, she does. I have to get used to it, and so do you.”
Alec actually looked frightened. “I can’t believe this is my Mallory.”
Poppy shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. But I guess you have to see that for yourself.”
“How?”
“I’ll think of something,” she said. “But now I have to get back to my new girlfriend.”
She loved the feeling of the word girlfriend on her lips, and it made her even more eager to hurry back . . . and feel Patricia on her lips.
For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was happy. The least she could do was help Alec and Mallory feel the same.
21
The Blue Angel was unusually empty and quiet. No one was practicing, and the dressing room was dark.
Mallory sat at a table with Agnes, uncomfortably fidgeting with her handbag. She had been summoned there with a curt phone call, and now Agnes was barely speaking. The owner of the Blue Angel appraised her like she was a side of beef.
“I like the
red hair.”
“Thanks,” Mallory said.
“You know why I called you?” she asked, lighting a cigarette. Mallory suddenly felt as if she was in a Polish espionage film.
“Um, no.”
“You can work as stage kitten tomorrow night?”
“Sure,” she said.
“You know I fired Bette.”
Mallory felt her stomach drop.
“Why?”
“To me, loyalty, a person’s word, is everything. She stopped showing up; she is done here.”
“I’m sure she can explain,” Mallory said.
“Enough of that. What do you want?” she said. Mallory was confused. Agnes had called her.
“You mean . . . in life?”
“Don’t be coy,” Agnes snapped. “Do you want to be a dancer or do you want to watch other people?”
“I want to be a dancer,” she said, without hesitation.
“Poppy is going to headline my Valentine’s Day show instead of Bette. We need another girl, and Poppy says that girl should be you.”
Mallory looked at Agnes as if she must be kidding or mistaken.
“Are you sure?”
“No! Of course I’m not sure! You screwed up your first night as a stage kitten.”
“I mean, are you sure that’s what Poppy said?”
“Yes. Of course. She was very clear. I was surprised, too. Still, I will take a chance. But . . . if you screw up, this is the last time you will be on that stage. In fact, if you screw up, I don’t even want to see you in the audience. I’m about over it with all of you girls.”
“I won’t screw up.”
“I shouldn’t have to explain this to you, but the theme of that night is love. Dance something about love, getting love, losing love, sexy love. Whatever. And show up tomorrow night to help out.”
She stood up from the table, and walked off. Mallory waited a few minutes to see if she was coming back. When she was sure Agnes had disappeared, she walked away from the table and immediately called Bette.
“What the hell? You’re just dropping out of the Blue Angel?” she said.
“I guess you spoke to Agnes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me she fired you?”
