Chet is skin and bones. He couldn’t “escort” me out if he tried.
But then there are Rouge’s Kings. The muscled linebackers in every section who stare at the club’s visitors silently, keeping an eye out for trouble.
I could maybe take one of them, but if all four descended on me at once…
“Fine,” I say. “I was brought in as a guest of one of your staff.”
She cocks her head at that, but her expression remains neutral. “One of my staff?”
I nod. “Chet allowed it, so I assume everything is kosher.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “Kosher, Dr. O’Rourke?”
“You know. Fit. Proper. Within the parameters of the rules.”
“I know what kosher means, Doctor.” She paces around me. “It’s funny you should use that word. My sister and I were raised half-Jewish, you know.”
“I did not know that.”
“Neither of us is particularly religious, but we did learn the customs of our ancestors. Do you know the rules that the Jewish people have to follow to remain kosher?”
“I mean, I know pork isn’t allowed.”
“Precisely.” She flashes a grin. “Pigs are not considered kosher because mammals must satisfy two requirements for their flesh to be used as sustenance. They must chew their own cud, and they must have cloven hooves. While pigs meet the second requirement, they fail to meet the first.”
“Thank you for the cultural lesson.” I take a step back. “But I really shouldn’t be monopolizing you this whole evening. I’m sure the whole club is itching to bend your ear.”
She closes in on me. “The same can be said of you, Doctor. You certainly meet the requirements for club membership. High standing in our city, a good job, not to mention a certain…aesthetic.” She runs a finger down my jaw. “But not every requirement is met. You are not a member in your own right, and you are not the guest of a member.” She moves her fingers from my jaw to the back of my neck. “Tell me, which staff member brought you into the club?”
I remain stoic. “I would prefer not to say.”
She snaps her hand back to her waist, her eyes sparkling with annoyance and something more. The delight in a challenge. “Very well, Doctor. I can easily figure it out through a process of elimination.” She taps her finger against her chin. “The only staff who use the front entrance are myself, Bianca, her instrumentalists, Mr. Night, DeeDee and Dudley, and the dealers in the Diamonds section. All the cards use another entrance, so we can count them out. The bar staff and musicians are not allowed to speak while they are on the Aces premises, so they can be counted out. The Blackjack dealers and croupiers usually come in early to set up their tables, and Mr. Night hardly seems your type.” She smirks. “I suppose I can count myself out, since I certainly”—she strokes my cheek with a gloved finger—“would remember bringing a man of your stature into my club. That leaves us with just one person.” She paces around me. “A person who usually comes in just a few minutes before opening. When she actually makes it in on time, that is.”
I take a tentative step toward her. “Rouge, I think we have a misunderstanding here.”
“So tell me, Doctor. Why did my sister find it so imperative that you be here at this club tonight?”
8
BIANCA
I thought Rouge was going to come straight at me when I saw her, that I was going to get the dressing-down of my life, possibly in front of all the Aces patrons.
But she merely sniffed in disapproval—one of her favorite moves—before disappearing into the crowd.
Perhaps she enjoyed the performance herself but doesn’t want to admit it to me.
I haven’t sung like I did tonight in years. I’m not going to lie, I normally phone in my Aces sets. It’s been years of the same old rep—all those jazz standards are permanently ingrained into my brain after years of repetition—and while I have always delivered a solid show, I’ve been going through the motions lately, not really enjoying the magical moments that live performance can create.
Tonight was different.
Even those songs that I’ve been performing for years felt new tonight. I did the entire set twice, and on the second go-around it felt like I was singing them for the first time. But then when I added that extra encore—“Somewhere” from West Side Story, one of my dream shows—it was like the Muses themselves took hold of me and made me their vessel. The song was singing me as much as I was singing it.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt the spark in me that has been absent for so long.
The reason I pursued a career on Broadway—as painful as it turned out to be—in the first place.
I love this.
