Alicia paused on the sidewalk and looked up the stairs to the green awning that had “Olga’s” in flowing script.
Kathleen elbowed her in the ribs. “Come on, what are you waiting for?”
Alicia rubbed her stomach, surprised to find herself jittery. “Dunno. I guess I just don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t find anything to wear. I really don’t have a plan B.”
Kathleen twisted her heavy auburn hair up off her neck and squinted at Alicia. “Well, didn’t you say Mr. Hot is a lobbyist? Dude must have some dough. Make him buy you a dress. Go full billionaire romance novel.”
“No.” Alicia set her mouth in a flat line and shook her head. “No expensive gifts from guys. Then they think they own you.”
“Okay,” Kathleen said, letting her hair tumble down over her shoulders again. “Unless you want to raid the costume shop for some sweat-stained old rag of a gown that’s been used in fourteen productions…”
“Appealing. So appealing.”
“…Get your butt up there and let’s get shopping.”
Alicia jogged up the cement steps outside and the carpeted steps inside before any more butterflies could colonize her stomach. The interior of the shop looked more like a retrofitted apartment. Which it probably was. Instead of one large showroom, smaller rooms presented a rabbit-warren appearance. Clothes were everywhere, on wall-mounted bars and free-standing racks, even hanging from doors. Alicia’s eyes glazed over. How was she going to find anything in this jumble? Kathleen’s face had a keen expression, no longer one of Cinderella’s mice. Now she was more like a cat who had just dropped to her belly, ready to pounce on some unsuspecting creature.
An impeccably coiffed older woman in what had to be a real Chanel suit emerged from a back room and smiled from Kathleen to Alicia and back at Kathleen. “Hello again, what can we do for you today?”
Kathleen pointed at Alicia. “Not me today, Olga. My friend. She needs an evening gown. A stunning one.”
Olga looked Alicia up and down and smiled. “Wonderful. How fun. For a specific event?”
“The…” Alicia dug her phone out of her shorts and consulted it for the name of the event. “USA Science Fair Gala?”
“Oh, marvelous,” Olga said, her pale eyes twinkling. “Your first time attending, I gather?”
“Yes,” Alicia said, feeling uncomfortable. Not just first time attending this thing. First time at a black-tie anything. She felt like a fraud.
Olga turned and crooked a finger. “Follow me. I have something in mind that I believe will both suit you and fit you beautifully.”
“Someone’s in a good mood,” Jeanette commented as Colin approached her desk, whistling. “How did the meeting with the senator’s staff go?”
“You mean my meeting with the senator?” he asked, winking.
Jeanette looked suitably impressed. “Senator Fisker actually dropped in on the meeting?”
“She did more than drop in. She stayed for twenty minutes and seemed deeply concerned about the state of STEM education in public school systems.”
“Hence the whistling. I’m surprised you didn’t stop off for champagne.”
Colin grinned. “Ah, speaking of celebrations, is the town car for the gala arranged?”
Jeanette nodded and consulted her monitor, clicking her mouse. “All settled. It will pick you up at your house at quarter to seven. You’ll be at the cocktail hour in plenty of time to schmooze with the crowd.”
“Time enough for another stop to pick up an additional passenger, you think?”
Jeanette’s eyebrows rose. “Are you telling me you’ll be going with a lady friend?”
“No, I’m telling you we will be making an additional stop for—how is it you Yanks put it?— ‘hookers and blow’ prior to my arrival at the gala.”
“Funny. What’s her name?” Jeanette pursed her lips and looked fixedly at her computer screen, the lines fanning around her eyes giving away her appreciation of the joke.
“Alicia Johnson,” he said. “Her flat is in Capitol Hill, more or less on the way to the Grand Hyatt.”
“Then let’s back your pickup time off by ten minutes.” Jeanette made a note. “Anything you want sent to her in advance?”
“Such as?”
She gave him a withering look. “Flowers are always a nice gesture.”
He was an ignoramus. He had frequently sent flowers to Tressa. Why hadn’t it occurred to him to send them to Alicia?
“Hm. Well, she did mention that her attendance was contingent on finding a suitable gown.” As he mulled this over, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw a text message notification. Unlocking his phone, his screen filled with an image of Alicia’s face, her head tilted back, her hair characteristically spilling across her eyes. She must have held her phone almost directly over her head. He could see a glimpse of a silvery bodice and an enticing shadow of cleavage. His mouth went dry.
“Problem?” Jeanette asked.
Colin cleared his throat and showed her the phone screen. “Ah. No. No problem at all.”
Jeanette’s eyebrows quirked up. “Is that her? Lovely. Looks like she found a dress.”
“As you say. I think flowers are in order.”
“On it, boss.”
“I thought you weren’t assisting me with personal matters?”
“Only if it isn’t fun. This is fun. Besides, you always had me send them to…well. You know.”
“If I have to do the distasteful things like take calls from ‘you know,’ then I get to do the allegedly fun things like send flowers to Alicia. Where do we order flowers from?”
Jeanette made a face. “I’ll e-mail you the information.”
Unlocking the front door of her apartment, Alicia suppressed a giggle at her luck. Over one arm she hefted a garment bag with the “borrowed” designer evening gown a television star had worn to the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. The other actress had savaged the hem with her six-inch platform heels, and the designer had refused to take it back. Having already been seen in the garment, the actress didn’t care what happened to it. Her assistant, a D.C. native, had brought the dress straight to Olga and sold it to her at a fraction of its original worth. Olga had a seamstress hem the dress again, eliminating the torn edge.
And now it was Alicia’s, at a price she imagined would make the D.C. Police run her down for theft.
Carrying it back to her bedroom, she hung the garment bag on the back of her closet door and unzipped it. A column of black silk, topped by silver and illusion netting, met her eye. Alicia pressed her fingers to her lips.
It was gorgeous.
She had felt bold and sexy when she had given in to the impulse to text the photo to Colin. Now she felt silly. He would give me his number when he asked me for mine. And I would use it for something like that.
She did know how to be provocative.
It was maybe time to finally dial that back. Her new job…cable TV. Give an inch and they’d ask for a mile. Or give them a nipple and they’d ask for…
She grimaced. Cross that bridge when she got to it.
The doorbell rang. Alicia took a deep breath, gathered herself, and moved through the kitchen and living room to the front door. A glance through the peephole showed a young woman in a drab baseball cap.
Okay…
Opening the door, Alicia was met with a large, square vase filled with an enormous profusion of flowers spilling out of the top. She blinked as she took the giant arrangement, nodding as the delivery woman said something about signing for it and setting it on the coffee table. Receiving the other woman’s clipboard, she scribbled a signature and smiled. The delivery woman merely turned on her heel and walked up the shallow flight of stairs to the street level.
Alicia turned to the mass of flowers as if they were an unexpected visitor to entertain. Or maybe an alien delegation. “Take me to your leader.” A plastic trident sticking up from the arrangement held a small envelope. Plucking it off, she pulled out the card inside.
Thank you for agreeing to go to the gala with me. I look forward to seeing more of the gown next weekend.
—Colin
Damn the man. How had she ever thought he was an asshole?
“Jeanette,” Colin called out of his office. “How do you know that a flower arrangement has actually been delivered?”
Appearing in his office doorway, Jeanette smiled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Generally speaking, you don’t.”
“Then how do you know that the delivery has been…delivered?”
“You don’t. You trust that it has.” Jeanette grinned with wicked humor.
Colin glared at her. “You seem to be enjoying this.”
Jeanette’s smile broadened. “I am. You’re generally so in control. This is amusing.”
Narrowing his eyes, Colin looked at the florist’s webpage. “Why don’t these bloody services give some sense of the…service they’re offering?”
Shrugging one shoulder, Jeanette stood away from the doorframe. “You have to have some faith, Colin. You paid for the service, you need to trust the professionals.”
“Professionals that should have GPS-enabled delivery notification,” Colin said.
“Or maybe a gentleman should just wait for a thank you note,” Jeanette noted.
“Thank you note? In the twenty-first century?”
“We haven’t descended into absolute savagery,” Jeannette said.
“And how many thank you notes have you received lately?”
“From whom?” Jeanette asked.
“How about from your grandchildren?” Colin said, a sinking feeling in his gut an early warning sign that he was engaged in a losing argument. He ruminated that Jeanette’s oldest grandchild was only six. Too soon for notes, surely?
“Amelia sent me a beautiful note for her last birthday gift,” Jeanette said, a smug expression on her face.
“She would do that,” Colin grumbled.
“She is a perfect child,” Jeanette said.
“Of course she is,” Colin said.
His phone chimed and he snatched it off the desk, unlocking it to reveal a photo of a floral arrangement on a small table. He was intrigued to see what Alicia’s decorating taste was. The photo also showed a midcentury modern-style sofa and a Turkish rug. Three dots pulsed under the photo and a message appeared.
Thank you. They’re beautiful.
“I take it from your expression that the modern version of a thank you note has arrived?”
Colin showed Jeannette the screen, and her eyebrows shot up. “Just exactly what did you order?”
“What do you mean?”
Jeanette pointed at the phone. “That is…enormous.”
“Too big?” He glanced at the photo again. It did look a bit ostentatious, now that he considered it. He could see enough of the sofa to contextualize the scene. His earlier assessment of the table as small was off the mark. It was her coffee table.
“Practically worthy of a hotel lobby,” Jeanette said, eyes wide.
Colin shrugged. “I…just told the woman on the phone the general type of flowers I wanted and the price range.”
“A word to the wise: the next time you want to impress and not frighten a woman, spend less on flowers than she probably spends on rent,” Jeanette said, shaking her head as she turned and walked back to her desk.
The mood in Alicia’s dressing room that evening was quiet and melancholy. Sitting next to Alicia at the makeup mirror, Wendy’s big brown eyes sheened over with moisture as she braided her curly black hair into a coronet around the top of her head.
“You okay?” Alicia paused, her makeup pencil poised over her forehead. She definitely wasn’t going to miss old-age makeup. Though she would miss the production. The cast was a close-knit one, with relatively little interpersonal drama. They were mostly locals, people who made their living with various acting gigs in and around D.C., but they had welcomed Alicia and the other few out-of-towners without question.
“I just hate the last few performances,” Wendy said, tucking in the final pin to hold her hair in place and beginning to smooth moisturizer over her golden-brown skin. “Not the performances themselves, but the ending. I’ve always hated it when things end. I was in a children’s theater production of Charlotte’s Web when I was a kid, and I would have dreams about it for months after the run ended and wake up crying when I realized it was over.”
“Aw. Sweetie.” Kathleen, who had just entered, set down her bag and bent to hug Wendy from behind, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And here I’m just upset because I don’t have my next job lined up.”
“Ouch,” Alicia said, feathering faint lines out from her mouth and turning her head from side to side to gauge the effect in the mirror. “You have your next thing in the bag, Wendy?”
“Just an industrial so far—some corporate training thing.” Wendy made a face. “It’ll pay the bills, but…not big fun. You? Did you hear about your audition yet? Probably too soon.”
“Actually…” Alicia suddenly felt awkward and shy.
“What did you get?” Kathleen’s gaze sharpened. “Wait…it just occurred to me. This was a local audition. Was this a national call?”
“No, not a national call.” Alicia’s stomach fluttered.
“So, local? You’re not headed back to New York?” Kathleen’s face lit up, and Alicia was filled with an unfamiliar warmth at the obvious affection and excitement displayed there. Wendy’s expression was a gentler mirror of Kathleen’s.
“No, you’re stuck with me for a while longer,” Alicia said. “That new political series? Chamber of Lies?”
“Shut. Up.” Kathleen’s eyes widened. “That’s awesome. How big of a part?”
“Um. Ten episodes with an option for the rest of the season,” Alicia said.
Kathleen shrieked and wrapped her arms around Alicia, rocking her from side to side and hopping up and down in a gleeful fit. When she finally let go, Wendy wrapped her in a softer embrace, but enthusiasm shone in her expression. “I’m so happy for you,” she said.
“Thanks…I’m really not used to the idea yet. It’s pretty weird.”
“Weird how? What kind of weird?” Kathleen said as she began to strip off her street clothes. “Like, playing the mother of someone older than you weird?”
Alicia bit her lip and looked from Kathleen to Wendy. “Nudity clause weird.”
“Ah.” Kathleen grimaced, and Wendy wrinkled her nose. “You okay with that?”
“Not a hundred percent,” Alicia admitted. “But the part…”
“…Is amazing?” Wendy finished, and Alicia nodded.
“This could really be big for you,” Kathleen said, letting her loose gown slide over her head. “And maybe they’ll decide they don’t really need you to do it.”
“Maybe,” Alicia said doubtfully.
“At any rate, we’re going out after the show to celebrate.” Kathleen pointed her signature finger guns at Alicia, and Wendy nodded.
Alicia bit her lip again. She guessed she really was making friends.
Alicia slid onto a bar stool between Wendy and Kathleen, who waved frantically at the bartender.
“Champagne. This lady is about to be a television star,” Kathleen said, pointing at Alicia.
Her face heating, Alicia ducked her head. “Jeez. Couldn’t you just be jealous and backstabbing like most of the actresses I seem to work with in New York?”
Kathleen winked, making a clicking sound with her tongue. “Not my style, babe. Besides. That’s the nice thing about this theater community. It’s too small for that kind of bullshit—well, mostly. News gets around. Nobody wants to work with you if you behave like that.”
Alicia thought of her professional rival and e-mail correspondent, Susan, who managed to work steadily even though she was a complete and utter witch to most people around her. Alicia was so frequently in competition with the other actress for roles that correspondence with Susan contained large doses of false cheerleading and backhanded comments as they tried to push each other’s buttons, psych each other out. But where other people came and went in Alicia’s life, Susan was the one constant.
I’m sure a shrink would have a field day with that. It sounded unhealthy even to herself.
“Congratulations,” the bartender said as she put a glass in front of Alicia. “What show should I be keeping my eye out for?”
“Chamber of Lies,” Alicia mumbled, and the bartender gave her a thumbs-up.
“To our friend, the rising star in the chamber!” Kathleen said exuberantly. She and Wendy clinked their glasses to Alicia’s, and Alicia took a sip, the buzz and tickle of the wine on her tongue reminding her of the night she met Colin.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Wendy said, bumping her shoulder into Alicia’s. “Aren’t you excited? You have a new job, a new guy…”
Alicia chuckled ruefully. “I think I’m in shock.”
“She did get an amazing dress at Olga’s. And she sent a sultry selfie to the guy to boot. How did he respond?” Kathleen asked, nudging Alicia with her elbow.
Wendy’s eyes widened. “You’re not sexting him, are you?”
Alicia laughed. “No, no nudity. Just a preview of the dress.” She dug her phone out of her bag and called up the photo, showing it to Wendy.
“Nice,” Wendy said, nodding.
“And to answer your question, Kathleen, this is how he responded.” Alicia swiped the selfie aside and showed both women the photograph she had taken of the giant flower arrangement.
Kathleen’s mouth dropped open, and she looked wide-eyed at Alicia, her hand whipping through the sign of the cross. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. That must have cost a fortune. He’s got it bad, girl.”