The Venus Fix by M. J. Rose Page A

everything else.
    As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t wish fantasy into fact, and as much as I wanted him to stay with me on the balcony, I didn’t say anything. I was actually shy. And then I was angry with myself for feeling that way, and for allowing the fantasy to take root in my head and disappoint me when it didn’t come true. This wasn’t like me. At least, wasn’t like me before I’d met Noah.
    It didn’t matter. The moment had passed. Noah was waiting for me, ready to show me his hometown.
    He searched my face in the elevator.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Looking for some clue as to how you’re feeling.”
    “You’re trying to gauge my mood from the way I’m looking at you, from how I’m holding my hands, from the slant of my eyes. You’re using the tools I use on my patients, judging their words against their actions and mental equilibrium. That’s not fair.”
    “Why not? You do it all the time.”
    I laughed. He was right. “Okay then, so tell me, how am I?”
    “You’re going to be fine, darlin’. I promise.”

Twenty-Three
     
    I t was a work night. ZaZa sat at the glass table in the dining area of her loft, with a glass of cheap white wine that really wasn’t half bad, and waited for Tania. She was jumpy because she wanted to see her so very badly. For more than a year, every Saturday, Tania Hutchison would show up around midnight. They’d drink some wine, light a joint, and after they were relaxed, they’d get undressed and go at it.
    She looked at her watch. Why was Tania late? ZaZa got up, put the bottle of wine back in the fridge and sat down at the table again.
    She’d decided. She was going to tell her. Finally. She’d kept the secret way too long. Months earlier, this had stopped being just a way to pick up some extra cash, to supplement the pathetic salary she made as a waitress while trying to get work as an actress.
    Like too many other women, ZaZa had come to New York with stars in her eyes, and three years later had only managed to get some work as an extra in a dozen commercials. Every few months, she would decide to pack it in, move away, get a normal job, and yet something made her stay. She hatedwaitressing. Hated the studio loft in the crappy building in Hell’s Kitchen. Even with all the painting and decorating, it still looked like shit. She hated the hope she felt every time she went on an audition, and then the greater hope she felt every time she got a callback, and then the torture of waiting for the phone call that she’d gotten the part. The phone call that never came.
    At first she’d resisted when Barbara, a fellow actress, had told her about this job. But ZaZa needed some new clothes, a good haircut and decent highlights. If she didn’t look good, she definitely wouldn’t get any work. So she’d said she’d try it. After all, how bad could it be—it was acting, wasn’t it? And she and Barbara were both actresses. They’d done scenes together in class. They’d gotten friendly, gone out for coffee, talked about their boyfriends when they had them, and their lack thereof when they didn’t. They’d become friends, not just fellow thespians.
    ZaZa jumped. Damn. The buzzer was too loud. She’d complained to the landlord about it a dozen times already. Every time he saw her in the halls, he wiped his hands on his already dirty jeans, leered at her—not enough to upset her but just enough to creep her out and make her wonder if he’d seen her on the Internet—and promised that as soon as he finished fixing the floor in 4-B or repainting 6-A, he’d fix the buzzer. But it never happened.
    Tania brought a freezing cold whoosh of air with her. As she unwrapped her scarf and her hair fell back into place, ZaZa pretended she wasn’t watching her, but she was. Tania’s nose was a little longer than was considered beautiful, and her jaw was too strong, but that just made her more striking.
    The two women did not kiss hello, but they seemed genuinely glad