Julie’s couch folded out into a queen-size bed. Thank you, Pottery Barn, Mallory thought, as she helped Julie tuck the fitted sheets around it.
“Maybe a break isn’t the worst idea in the world,” Julie said, smoothing out one side and lying down on it. Mallory knew she was keeping her friend up way past her work-night bedtime, but that’s what former college roommates were for, right?
“How can you say that? I love him. In what universe is breaking up a good idea when you’re in love?” She sniffed and reached for another tissue.
“I don’t know. You still haven’t told me why you broke up tonight.”
Here it goes. There was no way this was going to go over well.
“It started two nights ago. I told him I was having second thoughts about a law career, and he was so judgmental and unsupportive and basically attacked my character and said I was giving up just because it wasn’t coming easily enough for me.”
“He can be such a jerk! Ugh, it makes me mad.”
“I know. So I walked out . . .”
“I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone! I’ve been going to sleep at eight lately. I’m like a third grader. Anyway—go on.”
“I couldn’t get in touch with you or Allison so I called Bette, that dancer from the Blue Angel.”
“Why?”
“I had seen her earlier in the day . . . and she was so understanding about my questioning my job. So I texted her, and she was home, and we hung out and we . . . sort of hooked up.”
Silence. And then, “Mal, I think you need to see a therapist.”
“Oh, my God, I do not!”
“Yes. It’s okay, hon. We’re here for you. I’ll help you find someone. Obviously, you are having some sort of identity crisis. . . .”
“I’m not having an identity crisis. The only crisis is that my boyfriend and best friend won’t listen to me!”
“Well, how did you think Alec was going to react to this news? His girlfriend of four years goes lesbo, and he’s supposed to jump up and down with joy?”
“He’s the one who is always pushing me to hook up with girls! He’s the one who wanted a three-way, who brought me to the burlesque show . . . who made me leave work early to sit through his interview with Bette like some sort of fluffer . . .”
“Okay, all I’m saying is this whole dynamic is unhealthy. If you want your relationship with Alec to work, you have to step away from all this craziness.”
“When I was sitting home studying for the bar every night, he looked at me like I was a drag . . . like I couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle. Now that I’m in the same arena he’s threatened. It’s such bullshit.”
“Then, like I said, maybe time apart is a good idea. You just got to New York. You’re still figuring out your life. How can you know how Alec should fit into it if you don’t even know what you want yet? If it’s meant to be, you guys will work it out. And a little distance always makes the truth of a relationship clear.”
“Maybe.”
“Either way, I think you need to get away from this strip club nonsense and figure out what you’re going to do with your professional life.”
“It’s not a strip club. And even if it were a strip club, you’re being so small-minded. The Blue Angel is not causing the problem. It’s revealing the problem.”
“How would you feel if Alec left after a fight and hooked up with someone else?”
“I never said it was okay with me for him to hook up with another girl. He is the one who pushed for that open window. And I think it’s hypocritical that it’s okay when it’s in front of him for his amusement, but not okay when it’s for my personal experience.”
“Did you tell him this?”
“No. I hadn’t thought it through. Bette told me he wouldn’t be happy, but a part of me really believed we could discuss it calmly and it wouldn’t be a big deal. When he instantly jumped to us taking a break, I was shocked.”
Julie looked at her with wide, brown eyes full of sympathy. She patted Mallory’s hand.
“You have to figure your own stuff out before you can be in a couple. Try to get some sleep. You can stay here as long as you want. Put your clothes in that closet by the bathroom.”
“Thanks, Jules. You’re the best.”
“I’ll be in my room if you need me. I set the coffee up for the morning. I’m leaving the spare key on the kitchen counter.” She kissed Mallory on the forehead.
Mallory looked at her stuffed overnight bag. She didn’t have the heart or the energy to start unpacking. With Julie behind her closed bedroom door, she felt free to start crying again. So she did.
How was she going to sleep? Her life was a mess. And the thought of waking up at 6:30 in the morning to rush to the office made her stomach hurt.
She heard the light bleat of her text alert. Alec! She dug through her handbag to unearth her phone.
We’re at Luna Lounge—come out for a drink. Bring your man if you want. Xo B
Bette. Mallory typed back, We broke up tonight. I’m in hell.
While she waited for Bette’s response, she couldn’t resist texting Alec. This makes no sense to me, Alec. I want to talk. Please call me.
When her BlackBerry beeped again, it was Bette.
Svoboda! Don’t sit there wallowing. Get your ass in a cab. I’ll buy u a drink.
Mallory couldn’t help smiling through her tears.
She pulled on her shoes.
“Men are all hypocrites. They can dish it out, but they can’t take it,” Bette said, throwing back a shot of vodka. Mallory couldn’t understand how Bette could consume so much alcohol but never appear drunk. Or how Bette could look hotter every time she saw her. Her skin was creamy, pale perfection, and the contrast to her black hair was stunning. Mallory thought again about dying her hair red. She would never be as beautiful as Bette, but hanging out with her certainly made her want to try.
“You were right, though. You told me I shouldn’t say anything about it. But I didn’t want to lie or have something that major between us.”
“So give it a rest for now. He’ll come around. Keep busy. You know what you should do? Come to my costume fitting tomorrow. Agnes is a genius. She’s doing something with crinoline you wouldn’t believe.”
“What’s the costume?” Mallory asked, stalling. She couldn’t blow off work . . . could she?
“It’s an Alice in Wonderland dress. I’m performing to that Zebra song, ‘Through the Looking Glass.’ ”
Mallory loved Zebra—but who didn’t? She was the biggest pop star in the country. She was six feet tall, androgynous, racially ambiguous, and dressed in costumes that made Lady Gaga look like the Queen of England. She never did interviews except for one in Rolling Stone when her first album was released. Billy Barton had told Mallory that Zebra turned down the cover of Vanity Fair and a New York Times “Style” feature story.
“I have work tomorrow.”
“Can’t you call in sick or something?”
It was tempting. She’d never called in sick before. And it was flu season.
“Maybe I will.”
“I have a brilliant idea—I can get you a part in the show tomorrow night.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious. Kitty Klitty has been promoted to performer, and Agnes can’t hold her off anymore. She needs someone else to do the stage kitten bit—wear a cute outfit and pick up the clothes between sets.”
“Bette, be serious.”
“It’s so fun! You need to do something different to get you out of this funk. Come on—meet me at the club at noon, and we’ll talk to Agnes.”
Mallory discreetly checked her BlackBerry in her bag. Nothing from Alec.
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“Bette, what I am going to do with you? You need an audience even for a costume fitting,” Agnes said, adjusting the pins in the blue satin bustier that was cinched around Bette’s torso.
“Mallory’s not my audience, Agnes. I brought her here for you.”
Agnes flashed a glance at Mallory, who was perched on a folding chair in the dressing room.
“What do I need with her?”
“She’s going to stand in for Kitty tonight.”
“I’ve got Poppy for that,” Agnes said without missing a beat. Mallory had expected her to laugh, scoff, scream—react in some way at least to the preposterous notion of Mallory’s participating in the show.
“You know Poppy doesn’t want to do it. She sees it as a demotion. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a no-show.”
“That would be very stupid—unless she never wants to perform here again.”
“All I’m saying is she doesn’t want to do it. So why not make things simple and let Mallory stand in?”
Agnes eyed Mallory from head to toe.
“How do I know she can do it?”
“She’s a lawyer—I think she can figure out how to pick up clothes. And she’s hot—I can vouch for that,” Bette winked at Mallory.
Agnes rolled her eyes.
“You’re a lawyer?” she said to Mallory.
“Yes.”
“We could use a lawyer around here. But smarts doesn’t make you good on stage. That takes moxie, and you seem like a quiet mouse.”
“You saw me pull her out of the audience the other night—she got up on stage and rolled with my performance.”
“That was you?”
Mallory nodded.
“Fine. I’ll give you a chance. But just one chance. No screw-ups. What will you wear?”
“I’ll take care of that,” Bette said. “You just worry about what I’m wearing tonight.”
“Don’t tell me what to worry about!” Agnes snapped. “This is my show, and everything on that stage is my business down to the panty liners you wear in your thong. So what are you going to wear, Ms. Lawyer?”
“I’m . . . not sure yet,” Mallory said, looking helplessly at Bette.
“We just went shopping at La Petite Coquette,” she said to Agnes. Then, to Mallory, “You’ll wear that garter and corset.”
Just the garter and corset? But she knew better than to open her mouth in front of Agnes.
Mallory heard high heels clicking outside the door, and then Poppy’s blond head appeared.
“I thought I heard voices in here. What’s going on?” she said.
“We are transforming Bette into Alice in Wonderland,” Agnes said.
Poppy glanced at Mallory, but didn’t bother saying hello.
“How was the Justin Baxter party?” Bette asked. Poppy’s cheeks turned pink.
“Fine.”
Bette arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“So Poppy, thanks to Mallory you are off the hook,” Agnes said.
“What do you mean?”
From the look on Poppy’s face, Mallory was sure she wouldn’t be getting much thanks.
“She’s going to fill in for Kitty tonight.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. Don’t you have a job you should be at or something?”
“I took the day off,” Mallory said.
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Agnes said.
“Agnes loves American clichés,” said Bette.
Poppy turned and walked out.
“Why does she hate me so much?” Mallory said.
Agnes looked at her closely. “She must see something in you. I’m hoping to see it for myself tonight.”
Poppy closed the door to Agnes’s office and clicked the keyboard on the desktop computer. Quickly, Poppy opened Explorer to Google. She typed in Mallory Dale, lawyer.
Bingo. The name of the firm Reed, Warner, Hardy, Lutz, and Capel came up, along with Mallory’s name as a junior associate. And the firm’s phone number. Poppy programmed it into her BlackBerry and logged off.
She waited until she was outside to dial.