Chapter 37
Bellini
“Hello, everyone,” I called over the din in Logan’s office. The stage and catwalk were built, all the desks and tables were moved out of the way, and we had a huge open space to work with. “Thanks for coming to the first rehearsal of Lady Whiskey’s T and A Christmas Burlesque Show!”
Logan looked up from where he was talking to a bunch of people we went to school with—some in our grade, others above or below. Everyone clapped and cheered. These were people who liked to celebrate.
“First, thanks to Logan Hamilton and all of his employees for working so hard on the stage.”
“Whoop, whoop!” More clapping.
“Stand up if you helped to build the stage and the catwalk.”
Logan’s team and other volunteers stood up. My favorite stage builder was Logan, and I might have smiled at him a touch too long because my cousin Jaxi coughed to get my attention back in line.
“Also, thanks to the decorating team—please stand up…The setup team—please stand up…The tech people…lighting people…music magicians—you’ve all done a super job of compiling all the songs.
Please stand up.” I had a lot of thank-yous to deliver.
“So, tonight is our first rehearsal. Second rehearsal is tomorrow night, and then the big show on Saturday. I sent out an email.”
“Bellini’s famous emails!” Helena declared, and everyone laughed.
I spread my arms. “I’m a details gal. Can’t help it.”
“It was two pages long!” Jaxi joked.
“I have a lot to say. I know you all read every single word.” I pretended to glare at everyone as they laughed.
“Okay, let’s take it from the top, folks.
You should all have a list of the order of the acts and who is performing when.
Remember, you have four minutes—that’s it.
Not a second over. Are we ready, everyone? ”
Oh yes! Everyone was ready.
Sort of.
Maybe.
They tried.
We rehearsed the acts, one after another.
The whole rehearsal was a mess. Peopled were not organized, they had not read my two-page email, and they wanted to socialize!
We had tech issues for the lights, and the music had glitches, the spotlights blew out, and the acts were a bit of a wreck.
It didn’t seem to matter to anyone there.
They were all acting like we were partying with the Clauses and the elves in the North Pole with Christmas merriment and wine.
On the last run-through, the overhead lights were turned down, the spotlights now fixed and bright, the colored lights flashing and the music blasting, so everyone would know what to expect during the T and A performance in front of the town.
I momentarily gave up my leadership position when it was time for me to dance with Logan.
We twirled and twisted and jived and grooved.
Our dance was best described as a blend of swing and hyperactive waltz.
At one point, Logan threw me in the air.
Another time, I went sailing between his legs, then rolled over his back, then I kicked my leg up, and he scooted under.
Four minutes—wham and bam—and we were done.
Whew! Logan winked at me. I grinned like a fool, still panting from all that dance work!
No one left until about eleven o’clock that night.
Everyone had been asked to bring a dinner dish, and we’d had dinner together.
The T and A show was not going to be perfect—these shows never are, but that’s what makes them fun and funny.
Plus, my mother was going to emcee it. She’s hilarious, personable, popular.
She would make her jokes, many subtly raunchy—she had to be mindful of the kids—and away we’d go.
After Lady Whiskey’s T and A Christmas Burlesque Show, everyone would go outside to watch the town’s Christmas fireworks, which, thankfully, I had nothing to do with.
Logan and I locked up after everyone left and headed upstairs. We did not bother practicing our dance routine again as we had our own dance routine in bed.
The dress rehearsal the next night was much like the first, but somehow…worse.
Even less organized. More lighting and tech issues.
One man, a member of a rock band, fell off the stage.
The band laughed so hard they couldn’t play for long minutes.
For some reason, even though everyone had a list with the order of the acts, numbers five and twenty-one were flipped, as were sixteen and eleven, which messed up the music.
I had to use a microphone and a bullhorn sometimes to talk over the din of laughter and chatter.
Mrs. Kerns’ dance was exquisite. She’s a trained ballerina.
But there were forgotten jokes, out-of-tune singers, jugglers not juggling right, an offbeat drummer boy, and the male tutu dancers couldn’t find their rhythm, which they thought was hilarious.
“Whew,” I said to Logan when we were in bed after taking a sweet-hot shower together. “This might be the worst Lady Whiskey show yet.”
We started laughing. Somehow it was the funniest thing ever. The worst show yet! It was going to fall apart! It was going to bomb! We laughed until we about cried.
When we’re together, we like to laugh.
In bed that night, however, there were magical moments where we were not laughing at all…
The day of Lady Whiskey’s T and A (T is for tinsel and A is for All I Want for Christmas Is Santa) Christmas Burlesque Show was cool and crisp, but not death-defyingly cold, as it can be up here in Montana.
I left the bar in the capable hands of Javier and Marcos and scooted out the door at twelve o’clock. The bar was closing in two hours so all the employees could come. Many were participating.
“See you soon!” I called out to everyone.
They smiled and waved and said, “Can’t wait to see you onstage, Bellini!” and laughed.
I wasn’t laughing. I was scared to death. My knees were practically knocking.
The people in charge of the decor were working like madwomen and madmen, scurrying here and there.
Logan’s employees were also helping. Across the ceiling, Logan and his crew had hung string after string of white lights.
With the overhead lights down, those lights would transform a working space into a winter fairyland.
Tables and chairs had been rented and covered with red and green tablecloths.
A Christmas wreath decorated the center of each table, and a vase with a Christmas bouquet graced the center.
Tea lights ran through the wreaths to sparkle things up.
Every white ceramic plate had a gold charger, the crystal wine and water glasses shining.
Garlands were wrapped in white lights surrounding the edges of the stage.
The back of the stage had been painted by a local artist, Shell Maggs, with eight-foot-tall white and gold Christmas trees.
They were gorgeous. No wonder her paintings sell for so much.
A silver disco ball hanging from the ceiling set the mood.
Huge snowflakes, artistically cut out by a team of women, were also hung from the ceiling, one over each table and over the stage.
Mini white birch trees were grouped in corners and wrapped in white lights.
It would soon look like we had a magical forest in here.
One huge Christmas tree that Logan had bought and decorated towered over the whole event, the white lights flicking on and off, an angel at the top.
I took a deep breath. We would get this done… We would get this done… We would get this done.
And there was Logan. He was setting up the mini birch trees. He grinned at me. What a handsome Santa he was! Oh, cease my romantic and lustful heart.
“Hi, Stacy. How are you? I’m scared to death. Where’s my costume?” I asked Stacy when she rushed in later that evening, her hair a mess around her head. My voice wobbled with nerves.
The show would start in two hours. I was as frazzled as a panicked elf on Christmas Eve. I had hoped to have the costume for the dress rehearsal the night before so I could make sure that dancing around in it wouldn’t give me any “attire surprises,” but Stacy hadn’t been done with it quite yet.
“I’ve got it, Bellini,” she panted. I think she’d run up the stairs.
“It’s in my car. Sorry I was late getting it done.
I was having problems with my own costumes.
I had to make five for my own act, and I got behind.
” She was performing a mock striptease to Christmas music in which each layer she pulled off would reveal yet another Christmas dress, each funnier than the one before.
“Can I try it on quick?” Honestly, I was as worried about my burlesque outfit as I was about the dance.
“It’s under a bunch of my dresses. I’m bringing them all in. Don’t worry. It’ll fit. It’s super cute, and you can dance in it.” She wrung her hands together. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. She was nervous. Anxious. Oh please. Oh no.
“Tell me it will cover my own T and A.” Tell me the truth.
She waved an impatient hand at me. “Yes, it will cover your tits and ass!” But she didn’t seem too sure. Her voice wavered with doubt.
I chalked it up to her pending holiday striptease. I did that because I didn’t want to think about my T and A popping out. That wouldn’t happen, would it? Would it?
Later, Logan wandered up to me as I ducked into the staff lounge to find more fairy lights.
“It’s incredible out there,” I told him. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“Bellini,” he said, wrapping an arm around me. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done.”
He held mistletoe over my head…Wait. Was that mistletoe?
“It’s not exactly mistletoe,” he said.
I squinted. “That’s part of a fake Christmas tree.”
“It’ll work.” He smiled at me, and I smiled back, then he dipped his head and kissed me. I put my arms around his neck and leaned on him. He held me close, and he was snuggly warm.
“Mr. and Mrs. Claus, get a room!” Jaxi called out.