on her.
“Everything okay?” he said.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I just agreed to dance tonight. Not even burlesque. Mallory said I can do ballet . . . or anything.”
“Finally—someone’s come to her senses.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I will do burlesque on that stage. And I’ll do it soon. She just didn’t want to rush me tonight because it’s last minute.”
“I’m trying not to take this personally.”
“Personally?”
“Yes. You’d do anything to have an excuse not to go to dinner with me, wouldn’t you?”
She laughed. “Yes. Busted.”
“Okay, rain check accepted. So what are you going to do on that stage tonight?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Want to use one of my studios to practice? I’m sure I have free space this afternoon.”
“Oh, no. Thanks, but I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not? You’re already here. And I’d love to see what you come up with. Maybe even help you brainstorm some non-
pointe
choreography.”
“Really?” Nadia hated to admit that the thought of it thrilled her.
“Absolutely. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” she asked guardedly.
“You bring me to the show tonight.”
She smiled. “Let’s see how my rehearsal goes, first.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Max.
12
B illy dutifully showed up at the meeting spot Violet had designated: the Mexican chain restaurant Chipotle on lower Park Avenue. He spotted her immediately—who wouldn’t? With her platinum blond hair, tattooed arms and chest, and leather pants despite the eight-five-degree weather, she was turning heads as usual.
“I’m obsessed with this place,” Violet declared, biting into a tortilla shell filled with black beans, rice, lettuce, and cheese.
Billy said nothing, trying to keep his patience as Violet kept him waiting. Finally, he said, “Do you think you could, maybe, get to the point of this little rendezvous? I do have a magazine to run.”
“Here’s the deal,
partner
,” she said. “As you know, I’m nothing if not an amazing spotter of talent. And, as the creative force behind the club, I am responsible for bringing that talent to us.
Comprendez?
”
Billy rolled his eyes.
“There is a hot new costume designer fresh off the boat from England, and we need to enlist her services ASAP.”
“What’s wrong with the costumes we have?”
“Nothing’s wrong with them. And nothing’s right with them either. No one would talk about them either way. We need to change that. I mean, what’s the difference between burlesque and stripping? The costumes. So how can we be the best burlesque club in the city if we don’t have the best costume designer?”
Billy had a sinking feeling he knew where this conversation was headed.
“So go get the costumer. God knows you can be persuasive,” Billy said.
“Oh, I intend to get the costumer. I just need you to write the check.”
“Violet, I am hemorrhaging money for this club, with no end in sight.”
“It takes money to make money, baby.”
“How much do you need?”
“I’m not sure yet. I have to feel her out. My thought is we put her on retainer, and she can’t work for anyone else. That’s going to cost us some coin, but that’s the way I roll.”
Billy shook his head. “I’m not an ATM, you know. There has to be some end to this.”
“End? We’re just getting started. The club hasn’t even been open a year. I need your support, Billy. That’s the deal. Some day, when the club is successful, you can buy me out.”
“Buy you out? You haven’t put a dime in!”
“Sweat equity, baby.”
Billy felt the words “go fuck yourself” bubbling toward his lips. Then he thought of Tyler and his fear of being outed while his modeling career was still on the rise. And then he thought of what Harvey had suggested: A part of him was still hiding, too. Was he prepared to let go of that fear? Maybe. Soon.
Violet crumpled up the gold foil that had wrapped her burrito.
“Everything okay?” he said.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I just agreed to dance tonight. Not even burlesque. Mallory said I can do ballet . . . or anything.”
“Finally—someone’s come to her senses.”
“Don’t get me wrong—I will do burlesque on that stage. And I’ll do it soon. She just didn’t want to rush me tonight because it’s last minute.”
“I’m trying not to take this personally.”
“Personally?”
“Yes. You’d do anything to have an excuse not to go to dinner with me, wouldn’t you?”
She laughed. “Yes. Busted.”
“Okay, rain check accepted. So what are you going to do on that stage tonight?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Want to use one of my studios to practice? I’m sure I have free space this afternoon.”
“Oh, no. Thanks, but I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not? You’re already here. And I’d love to see what you come up with. Maybe even help you brainstorm some non-
pointe
choreography.”
“Really?” Nadia hated to admit that the thought of it thrilled her.
“Absolutely. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” she asked guardedly.
“You bring me to the show tonight.”
She smiled. “Let’s see how my rehearsal goes, first.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Max.
12
B illy dutifully showed up at the meeting spot Violet had designated: the Mexican chain restaurant Chipotle on lower Park Avenue. He spotted her immediately—who wouldn’t? With her platinum blond hair, tattooed arms and chest, and leather pants despite the eight-five-degree weather, she was turning heads as usual.
“I’m obsessed with this place,” Violet declared, biting into a tortilla shell filled with black beans, rice, lettuce, and cheese.
Billy said nothing, trying to keep his patience as Violet kept him waiting. Finally, he said, “Do you think you could, maybe, get to the point of this little rendezvous? I do have a magazine to run.”
“Here’s the deal,
partner
,” she said. “As you know, I’m nothing if not an amazing spotter of talent. And, as the creative force behind the club, I am responsible for bringing that talent to us.
Comprendez?
”
Billy rolled his eyes.
“There is a hot new costume designer fresh off the boat from England, and we need to enlist her services ASAP.”
“What’s wrong with the costumes we have?”
“Nothing’s wrong with them. And nothing’s right with them either. No one would talk about them either way. We need to change that. I mean, what’s the difference between burlesque and stripping? The costumes. So how can we be the best burlesque club in the city if we don’t have the best costume designer?”
Billy had a sinking feeling he knew where this conversation was headed.
“So go get the costumer. God knows you can be persuasive,” Billy said.
“Oh, I intend to get the costumer. I just need you to write the check.”
“Violet, I am hemorrhaging money for this club, with no end in sight.”
“It takes money to make money, baby.”
“How much do you need?”
“I’m not sure yet. I have to feel her out. My thought is we put her on retainer, and she can’t work for anyone else. That’s going to cost us some coin, but that’s the way I roll.”
Billy shook his head. “I’m not an ATM, you know. There has to be some end to this.”
“End? We’re just getting started. The club hasn’t even been open a year. I need your support, Billy. That’s the deal. Some day, when the club is successful, you can buy me out.”
“Buy you out? You haven’t put a dime in!”
“Sweat equity, baby.”
Billy felt the words “go fuck yourself” bubbling toward his lips. Then he thought of Tyler and his fear of being outed while his modeling career was still on the rise. And then he thought of what Harvey had suggested: A part of him was still hiding, too. Was he prepared to let go of that fear? Maybe. Soon.
Violet crumpled up the gold foil that had wrapped her burrito.
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