Just relax, Des!”
“Relax? Are you insane?”
“Miss Desy is upset!” says Naughty Kitty, straddling a pipe, her legs swinging.
“You’re gonna fall, Naughty Kitty,” I say.
“Naughty Ahi!” says Desy. “Can’t you remember anything?”
“Tee-hee,” Ahi says, swinging her legs more.
“I told you that’s a no-no, Ahi!” yells Desy. Behind her, Ika and Uni are working on her hair. “Lift that higher,” Desy tells the girl holding a mirror in front of her.
The girl heaves it up, giving me the eye. What’s her name? She makes a kissy face at me.
“I want you gone, Ebi!” screams Desy.
Ebi. That’s right.
“Noooooooo!” whine the other girls.
Ebi stumbles backward, the mirror tipping dangerously in her hands.
“Don’t break that!” I say. “It was a fucking nightmare getting it in here.”
“Language!” says Des. “Not around the girls!”
Giggle giggle.
Mirror up, back to the hair.
I had to rip that thing from the bathroom wall, demolition-style. Can’t you get ready in here? I’d asked Desy.
This bathroom is too small! she said. I need space to prepare!
Lucky for me, there’d been bolt cutters in the toolshed. This toolshed. It hadn’t been easy to get that mirror off the bathroom wall, either.
This is not a dressing room! Des had wailed.
Yeah, I’d said. But let’s play pretend.
Pretend you’re not a fucking crazy bitch. Pretend this is not going to be an epic-fucking-failure.
Now she’s driving me half-crazy and still only half-dressed. Outside, the guests are loud. Ten minutes ago, only a few voices. And now a roar.
And have I mentioned the show? A time bomb waiting to happen. So what do you think? Desy had asked after the first run-through at that studio in Manhattan. I’ve been working on it since your first text message!
I’m not sure, I’d said.
You better be sure, M.C., she’d hissed. It’s this or no show at all.
But . . . sushi?
Oh, silly! Everyone adores sushi, don’t you know that? It’s like Katy Perry and the candy, only über more sophisticated!
Now, watching Des, I pretty much want to kill myself.
“This will not do!” says Des, and for a second I think she’s woken the fuck up. “I look like the Jolly Green Giant! Take the shiso out this very instant!” Ika and Uni begin to pluck the leaves from her hair. All two thousand of them.
“Don’t you, like, want to run the choreography?” I ask.
“Please, I know what I’m doing. I’m a professional, M.C.” Then, literally two seconds later: “M.C.! I swear to God I can’t remember the words!”
“There are only four lines, Des. And you wrote them.”
“I wrote them so I wouldn’t have to remember them!”
Shit-balls-fuck-piss-I’m-gonna-strangle-this-skitzo-bitch . . .
Cordelia’s assistant Jimmy arrives, holding a tray of shot glasses. Saved!
“Thank God,” I mutter, handing one to Desy.
“Not that one!” he squeals, grabbing it from me. So fast he spills some on me. “This one is special.” He hands over an identical shot. “For our star!”
“Whatever,” I say, reaching for one of the others. “Drink up, Des. For the nerves.”
Mine is long gone before hers.
“Aren’t you a darling!” says Des. “Don’t you just think of everything!”
“That’s my job, sweets!” Jimmy says.
“No, Ahi!” Des says, slapping away the tiny hand creeping across the tray. “No shot for you, dear. I need my girls focused!”
Naughty Kitty—shit, Ahi—sits cross-legged on the floor. Sulking.
“And by the way,” says Jim, “you sounded fierce up there!”
Not sure what sound check he heard. Ours involved no singing, just Des bitching on the stage for twenty minutes. I can’t hear myself! The track is too loud! The backup sushi can’t do choreography for the life of them!
Giggle giggle.
Shut up, shrieked Desy.
Now I watch her down the shot. Can she pull this together? If not, any hope I had for investors will pretty much implode. And considering the rumors, Evergreen’s probably outta the picture.
Wonder if he’ll even show? Fuck, Hoff must be pissed.
At least it’ll take his mind off me. Since that Ogler BS, I’m on high alert. Watching my back for a jumping from the Hoff Media Mafia.
And what about Annalise?
If I weren’t so freaked out about seeing them, I’d probably be out there right now. Instead of trapped in here with Ahi, Ebi, Ika, Uni . . . and Psycho Bitch from Hell.
“Where the fuck is my tail!” shrieks Des, digging frantically in her bag. “Why don’t I have a wardrobe person? I mean, what kind of moron manager are you, M.C.?”
The kind who’s about to get ass-raped by the Society Page.
Giggle giggle.