The Friday Society by Adrienne Kress Page A

with that. How many times had rival illusionists attempted to sabotage one of the Magician’s shows?
    “Possibly.” Though Cora didn’t appear entirely convinced.
    “Or not.”
    “It’s just . . . I don’t know, none of this makes sense. But I suppose the police will investigate.”
    Nellie felt a bit disappointed that Cora was so willing to let the matter drop. It was exciting, all this murder business. And, yes, sad, terribly sad, she supposed . . . but it wasn’t like she’d known the man. Wow . She was terrible.
    “I think it’s time to move on to the harder stuff,” said Cora, examining her empty teacup.
    Nellie grinned. “Yeah, I’m all for that. But Raheem doesn’t drink.”
    Cora reached into her purse and produced a silver flask. “Yes, but I do.”

14
    Just Your Average Turn-of-the-Century Slumber Party with a Dead Body.
    You Know How It Is.
    C LEARLY C ORA WAS the kind of girl who could hold her booze. Nellie was feeling downright drunk after two sips from the flask. It was scotch. Good scotch. Or, at least, strong scotch. She really wasn’t the kind of person who could tell quality scotch from not.
    Even tiny Michiko appeared only mildly tipsy. Or, at least, that’s what Nellie assumed. The few shy smiles that broke the Japanese girl’s serious expression seemed to suggest that she’d let her guard down a little.
    “No!” said Cora with a laugh. “And stop saying it!”
    “I’m only sayin’ it because you keep on going on about him.”
    “I keep going on about him because I hate him. Because of the unfairness of the world. I’m just as good as he is, probably better, but because I’m a girl—”
    “You’re in love with Mr. Harris.”
    “Am not!”
    “Are, too.”
    “Yes!” insisted Michiko, even though both girls were pretty sure she had no idea what they were talking about.
    “Let’s play a game,” said Cora, obviously trying to change the subject. The three of them were now in Nellie’s room, sitting on her bed. Cora had escaped from her gorgeous red satin gown and was now wearing nothing but her undergarments, sitting cross-legged at the foot. Nellie was in her nightgown under the covers, and Michiko was still in her costume, sitting on a chair to the side.
    “Don’t change the subject!” said Nellie.
    “I damn well will. Do you know any games?”
    Nellie sighed. She thought back to her time backstage at the burlesque house with the other girls. They had gotten up to all kinds of mischief, but they usually required a theater and rigging . . . But, oh! “Let’s play ‘answer the question or do the deed’!”
    “What’s that?” asked Cora, taking another sip from her flask.
    “Well,” said Nellie, hugging her knees up to her chin, “you have a choice. Either you answer any question we ask, or Michiko and I get to make you do something.”
    “That’s it?” asked Cora.
    “That’s it. Not good enough for you, is it?”
    “Just very simple. No points system, no rules?”
    “Rule is, you can’t lie, and you can’t back out of doing the deed.”
    Cora passed the now much lighter flask over to Nellie. “Okay. Let’s play.”
    Nellie took the flask and a swig of scotch. It burned for a moment, then she passed it on to Michiko, who took a tiny sip.
    “Who’s first, then?” asked Nellie.
    “I’ll go.”
    “Right. So. Which you want to do?”
    “I’ll answer a question.”
    Now, in all fairness, Nellie knew she should consult with Michiko over what to ask, but it didn’t seem like the poor girl was really going to be able to contribute to the game. Still, she turned to her and said slowly, “What should we ask her?”
    Michiko furrowed her fine eyebrows. “Ask her?”
    “For the game.”
    “Game?”
    “Okay, I’ll ask. Why does your accent slip, like when you’re angry, or now, when you’re toasted?”
    Cora smiled. “That’s an easy one. I was born on the street, grew up in the East End until I was ten, when Lord White hired