Chapter Thirty
Mallory wakes up in the hotel room and last night comes rushing back to her: Voyeur. Zebra. Justin Baxter and Martha Pike.
She opens the curtains and bright sunshine fills the room. She pulls on sweatpants and her UGGs, makes a pot of coffee, and then works up the nerve to turn on her phone. It’s ten a.m. in New York.
Her phone indicates a message, and her heart leaps.
But she finds it’s only Julie checking in.
Dejected, she wonders how she’s going to fill the yawning, shapeless day that sprawls out before her.
She looks out the window at the oval pool below, the turquoise water a sparkling invitation.
She refuses to sit around being depressed.
She could have stayed in New York to do that.
She changes into the black two-piece she bought one weekend out in the Hamptons with Alec last summer, and the memory of that trip makes her want to climb right back into bed.
But she doesn’t let herself succumb to her feelings, pushing through, even as she fights tears on the elevator down to the lobby.
“Good morning,” the desk clerk says with a smile. The place is filled with jasmine and eucalyptus-scented fresh air, the far end of the lobby wide open with retractable glass doors leading to the pool.
At this early hour, the pool deck is nearly empty. She has her pick of the lounge chairs, striped in blue and white. Sunlight, filtered through haze and palm fronds, casts long shadows across the tiled deck.
The pool is a modest oval of still, glassy water, its surface barely rippled.
On the opposite end, a brunette is reading a script, her face hidden behind oversized sunglasses.
The MGMT song “Electric Feel” plays on hidden speakers, the volume calibrated so perfectly it’s as if the music is part of the breeze.
The staff moves quietly, setting out rolled white towels and trays of pressed juices, green smoothies, and silver carafes of coffee.
Even the air feels curated: dry, with a slight marine layer that will burn off by noon.
She feels a surge of gratitude: Bette was right. This is exactly what she needed.
Her phone rings. Alec!
She feels a moment of panic, as if she’s been busted doing something wrong.
But no, that’s irrational. They’re broken up, she’s unemployed, and there’s nothing wrong with taking a spontaneous trip with a friend.
She shakes away thoughts of their intimacy yesterday afternoon.
That’s done—over. If she wants her relationship to work, she needs to act like she’s in a relationship.
“Hey,” she says, modulating her voice to sound more casual and calm than she feels.
“Hey,” he says. “Sorry I missed your messages last night.”
“Oh, no problem,” she says. A young woman in yoga pants sits two chairs down and an attendant dressed in all white helps put up her umbrella.
“How are you?”
“I’m okay,” she says carefully. “How are you?”
“I’ve been better,” he says. Okay, so they’re gonna get real.
“Me too,” she admits.
“I heard you’re in L.A.”
What? None of their friends know where she is except Julie and Allison, and she knows they’re not talking to him.
“Yeah, it was a last-minute thing. How do you know about it?”
“Poppy LaRue.”
Jealousy surges like bile.
“What were you doing with her?”
“I’m still working on the article.”
Feeling threatened, she’s tempted to go on the offensive. But considering the little episode at Equinox yesterday, she doesn’t want to ask questions that she herself isn’t willing to answer.
“I’m just here for a long weekend. Bette had an all-expenses-paid trip and invited me along. Just for a change of scenery.”
Silence.
“We’re just friends, Alec. Really. I’ve been so upset about losing you … about our relationship. I couldn’t sit on Julie’s couch crying for another week.”
“Okay,” he says.
“I hope you believe me.”
“I want to believe you. Because I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she says immediately, tears filling her eyes. Self-conscious, she glances at the yoga pants woman, but with her Beats and sunglasses on she’s in her own world.
Alec is quiet again, and she feels so anxious she has to hold herself back from saying, “Is there a but?”
“So you’re really just out there to clear your head?” he says finally. “This isn’t some crazy burlesque convention or anything?”
She shakes her head even though he can’t see her. “It’s nothing like that. Bette’s performing at a private party. But I’m just hanging out.”
“Mallory, I know I’m the one who suggested we open things up, that we be more adventurous. I realize now that was a mistake. If this relationship is going to work, we need to focus on each other.”
“I agree.”
“So I’m finishing this article. And once it’s wrapped up, no more burlesque. For either of us.”
A text comes in from Bette: I just got back. Where are you?
Pool, Mallory types.
“Mal?” Alec says.
“I’m here. Um, yeah. I get it.” He’s probably right.
The burlesque scene has been a distraction for both of them.
Maybe it served an important purpose: It made her realize she doesn’t want a career in law, and she came to that conclusion before she invested even more time and money going down the wrong road.
And for Alec, maybe it showed him that he’s not missing anything after all.
“When do you get back to New York?”
“Monday night,” she says.
“Call me then?”
“I will.” More silence. “I love you, Alec.”
“I love you, too, Mal. I really do.”
When the call ends she sobs with relief. That’s how Bette finds her when she appears poolside.
“What’s wrong?” Bette’s still dressed in her corset and boots from last night, an outfit that’s incongruous against the breezy backdrop of the lounge chairs. She plops into the chair beside her.
“Nothing—nothing is wrong. Everything is great, actually.” Mallory wipes her eyes. “Alec called and we talked things through.”
“Oh, honey. I’m happy for you. See? Being apart did you both some good.”
She nods. It’s bittersweet: This trip with Bette will be their last together. But there’s no need to get into that now.
“Tell me about the rest of your night.”
“Oh, Mallory. I’m really into her.” Bette looks like she’s admitting to having a contagious disease.
“That’s amazing! Why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?”
“Well, because I just had the best night of my life, and I’m afraid it’s a one-and-done.”
“Why? Did you get the sense she doesn’t want to see you again?”
“No. In fact, she invited me to come to Vegas with her and stay for the week. And get this—I showed her my routine to ‘Down the Rabbit Hole’ and she said she wants me to open for her. Can you imagine? Performing in front of thousands of people a night?”
“Oh my god, you have to do it!” It’s the audience Bette deserves.
“I can’t. I’m committed to doing the Baxters’ party.
I can’t bail on them. I don’t even know if any other burlesquers are going to perform.
They have two performers from the Slit but they’re doing some crazy knives act.
I know Justin really likes at least one big, beautiful dance routine.
I can’t let them down. Even if I wanted to bail I can’t afford to reimburse them for this trip. ”
“They wouldn’t ask you to pay them back for the airfare and room, would they?”
“I don’t know. It’s pointless to even think about it because I can’t let them down.
I’ve been doing Justin’s birthday for the past four years.
The Baxters booked me before I even had a regular gig at the Blue Angel.
The money I’ve made on these parties has helped me avoid getting a day job to support myself.
I can’t just ditch them because of this. ”
They sit in silence. Mallory catches the woman next to them watching and feels protective of Bette in her moment of distress.
“Let’s go up to the room,” she suggests.
Bette doesn’t seem to hear her. “I feel like this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in so many ways, but I also have to be practical. I can’t blow up my career in the city.
That’s real, and this might be some fantasy.
But damn, it’s a beautiful one.” Her eyes mist. Mallory’s never seen her emotional before, and it moves her.
“I wish I could be in two places at once,” Bette says.
And Mallory wishes she could help her friend the way Bette has helped her.
“Maybe you can,” Mallory says slowly, an idea forming. “I can do your routine at the party for you.”
“What?”
“Teach me your routine. I was a ballet dancer when I was younger. And I’m a fast learner.”
Bette looks at her like she’s out of her mind.
“I know I’m not you,” Mallory says. “Not even close. But Justin and his wife seemed to like me last night.”
Bette nods. “They did.” She seems to consider the offer.
“That’s really generous of you, Mal. But I don’t know how I can expect you to learn this in a day and perform in front of hundreds of people at the Baxters’ party.
No offense, but you freaked out the first time you walked onstage at the Blue Angel. ”
“That was because my boss was in the audience! No one knows me out here. I really will just be … Moxie. Seriously, let me do this for you. You’ve done so much for me.”
Bette looks into her eyes. “I don’t know what to say,” she said.
“Say yes. It’s time for Bette Noire to go on tour with Zebra. And it’s time for Moxie to make her debut as a performer.”
Her debut and her curtain call all in one night. Why not? If she’s going to walk away from burlesque, at least she can go out with a bang.