Chapter Thirty
CHAPTER THIRTY
W HEN E VELYN RETURNED TO THE BOARDING HOUSE THE NEXT morning, the entirety of Manhattan looked new. It was as if, overnight, someone had waved a magic wand over the dingy streets, washing away the grime and squalor and reimagined it as some sort of fairy tale. The motorcars and horse-drawn carriages played nicely together on the cobblestones. Children congregated in games of jacks instead of standing in line outside the sweatshops. Apple men and bakers handed out their wares to anyone looking mildly hungry and refused payment.
None of this was, strictly speaking, true. No magician in the world had the power to change the heart of a city like this one. But Evelyn still felt as though something—or maybe everything—was different today.
To her great relief, the boarding house was empty, which meant she could escape to her bedroom, run a brush through her hair and wash her face, replace her ruined wardrobe with one of the many modest rehearsal dresses she owned, grab a bit of stale bread from the kitchen that somehow tasted like Manna from Heaven itself, and dash off to the theater before anyone was the wiser.
Whatever magician had waved his wand over Manhattan must also have worked his way through The Empire, because as Evelyn walked down the House Left aisle, her skirt brushing the lush crimson carpet as though she were gliding over the clouds, everything gleamed. Here, she once again saw the possibilities of this holy place of creation. And in her ragtag company, she saw their potential to be its high priests.
A shiver took hold of her though the theater wasn’t particularly cold. If she was getting this poetic and absurd over one evening with Thomas Gallier, there was no way she was going to survive their affair unscathed.
Her company was assembled with their usual breakfasts of apples and donuts, stretching their muscles and warming their voices as they nibbled and chatted. Yet the mood had none of its usual convivial charm. Jules’s pale skin suggested he might vomit at any moment. Bea wrung her hands raw and red. Annie did her best to comfort. Nathaniel sniped with Betsy and Natia. Given the excellent, spare-no-expense acoustics in the Empire Theatre, Evelyn was treated to every other fragment of their conversation. Fragments like ain’t ever gonna see that little kraut girl again and prob’bly threw her under the jail .
She smirked. She was under something last night, but it was not a jail.
“Morning, kids!”
Her voice reverberated through the hall, calling the attention of the waiting crowd. All at once, from the stage, the orchestra pit, the wings, and everywhere in between, nearly thirty heads snapped to face her.
A beat, a half-beat, even, and a tidal wave of relief and elation crashed over her.
They stampeded, and the bravest of them—Jules—even leapt straight over the pit and into her arms with enough force to nearly knock her over.
Annie, clapping her hands together in delight: “Evelyn! You’re alright.”
Nathaniel, lighting up a cigarette without a lick of concern: “Better than all right, I’d say.”
Rose, annoyed: “What the hell happened to you last night?”
Melvyn, unable to help himself: “What happened to her last night? Well, the coppers wanted to talk to her, but she just couldn’t finish her sentence .”
Jules, his arms around her as though he’d never let her go again: “Akio and I were at the boarding house all night, waiting for you.”
Bea, shooting him a look: “In the parlor , where non-residents are allowed, naturally—”
It went on like that for some time. It seemed everyone wanted to touch her, to talk to her, to see for themselves that she wasn’t some ghostly apparition back from a jail-floor grave.
When the tide finally went out and she reemerged from the deluge, she glanced over at Bea. “So I suppose everyone knows I got arrested last night?”
A pause. Bea adjusted her spectacles. “Well, I couldn’t tell them nothing .”
Good God. Evelyn withdrew herself from Jules’s embrace and clapped her hands together, bringing this rehearsal to order. Not only did they have too much to do today to waste their time on her, but she was in far too good a mood to speak about her time in the city’s custody.
“Alright, everyone! Listen up and listen well. If I was beaten by the police last night and could still arrive on time and focus on my work, then I think all of you can do the same, yes?” Again, The Empire’s good acoustics did their job, and she heard a creak all the way from the back of the theater. She bit the inside of her cheek. Thomas was up there. He was watching over her. She just knew it. “Now, let’s show our ever-so-gracious employer spying on us from the back balcony that we are worth all the money he pays us, shall we?”
Good-natured grumbling broke out from all corners of the stage, but it meant very little of consequence. They were all performers, after all, and after a week of rehearsal on their new acts, they were eager to show off what they’d been working on.
Knowing Thomas was watching up in the balcony sent a flush of almost-exhibitionist heat beneath Evelyn’s collar. She wanted to impress him. Wanted him to look at her now in public with the same awe he’d bathed her in last night.
But before she could call The Dancing Dozen to the stage for a demonstration of what was proving to be a suitably scandalous act, Bea ushered Nathaniel to center stage so the man might give a clinic on tap dancing.
Evelyn groaned. That meant Beatrice would want to talk .
“This is the part where you tell me what happened last night,” the woman said, materializing at her side as Nathaniel lit up the stage.
Evelyn hesitated. “Am I telling my friend, or am I telling the landlady whose job it is to make sure I don’t get into any moral trouble in this big, bad city of ours?”
A gasp. “You didn’t. You and Mr. Gallier?”
That scandalized tone, so disapproving, so worried, told Evelyn all she needed to know. Bea was not as thrilled by this turn of events as Evelyn was.
“I did not send him to save you last night so the two of you could fall into some sort of romantic disaster.”
“Romantic disaster. Please. Give me a little more credit.”
“I can’t. Not when it’s him. I’ve never seen you in this state over a man before—and certainly not a man like that. It’s not like you to lose your head this way.”
It was the sharp disapproval that rocked Evelyn back to reality. Yes. Of course. This was the afterglow of excellent sex. Nothing more. She couldn’t allow it to be anything more.
“I haven’t lost my head.”
“You’re delirious. I wouldn’t be surprised if you fell in love with him last night, you absolute fool.”
“I won’t fall in love. Not with anyone. You know this.”
“Evelyn. I don’t trust him. He’s just like the rest, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Biting the inside of her cheek, Evelyn shoved her feelings down into the depths of her and adopted a posture she’d perfected—casual indifference to romantic sentiment.
“And you, Jules?” she asked after a moment of consideration, glancing back at her friend, who wore a rehearsal gown and bold red lipstick. “I know you’re eavesdropping.”
Jules spun in a whirl of high heels and skirts. “Eavesdropping? Me? Absolutely not. I would never do anything so unseemly. I was just spying on you and waiting for a moment to insert myself into the conversation. So thank you for helping me in that endeavor.”
“What do you think about this new development? Beatrice is clearly unenthused. I should like your opinion. And don’t tell me you don’t have one. It seems clear to me that everyone does.”
Painted lips pressed together. Evelyn’s spirit dropped. She’d been so certain Jules would be on her side. “I think I have known you since we were children and you have never let yourself get carried away before. I’m sure you won’t let that change.”
“It’s just a fling,” Evelyn said, hating the way it sounded. Like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. “Nothing different from any of the others I’ve had before.”
Nathaniel’s dance reached its clattering crescendo, a clattering storm of noise and fury so loud and passionate that Evelyn almost missed Beatrice whispering, “I’d feel a lot better if I believed you.”