Simon raises his eyebrows, points at his chest. “You mean me?”
“Oh shit. Sorry, Cherie, I totally forgot.” Nomi turns to Simon to explain. “Ladies’ Night is just femmes.”
“Femmes, femme boys, ladyboys, drag queens, dolls ...” The receptionist gestures at Simon as she lights her cigarette. “Unless you’ve got a little black dress tucked somewhere in your jacket pocket that you can change into, I can’t let you in.”
“I can go in on my own,” Nomi says. “Noone, you can just stay here in the lobby. I won’t be long.”
“Are you sure?” Simon’s not entirely comfortable with letting her walk into the place alone.
“It’s the Riverview. And come on, you’re only pretending to be my security anyway.”
“Hey, I take offense at that.”
Cherie grins, eyes Simon up and down. “Will you pretend to bemysecurity?”
Simon isn’t convinced. “Nomi, listen, Ameche’s lurking around the district, and you were attacked outside your own apartment—”
“Really?” Cherie turns to Nomi, appalled. “Oh, honey.”
“I’m fine,” Nomi reassures, before addressing Simon again. “Eureka will be in there, she’ll look out for me. I promise it’s all good—this is only going to take me, like, literally five minutes. You stay here with Cherie. I’ll be right back.”
She strides over to the heavy door, yanks it open. The inside of the space beyond is very dark, and Simon sees a glimpse of a big sheet screen lit up with scenes from a colorful film before the door closes again.
“What film are they watching?” he asks, curious.
“The Wizard of Oz,” Cherie replies. “Everyone likes the classics, you know?”
“I went to seeSingin’ in the Raintoday,” Simon notes, offhanded.
“Oh, down at Bleecker Street?” Cherie seems delighted. “Wasn’t it fabulous? I could watch Gene Kelly dance all day, what a man.”
Simon leans on the reception counter, trying to let go of his edginess around Nomi’s absence, but Cherie clearly notices his level of distraction.
“You’re really Nomi’s security? And that thing with her eye—she was beat up outside her apartment?” Cherie gestures with a finger at her own eyebrow. “That’s so screwed up. Who would want to do that to Nomi? She’s a peach.”
“She’s in a dangerous line of work.” Simon glances through the main lobby doors, looking down the stairs at the street outside.
“Oh, honey, Iknow. I keep telling her. Last week, I was like, ‘Sweetie ...’”
“Do you get a lot of police around here?” Simon interrupts. “Because a squad car just pulled up on the other side of Jane Street, near the West Street corner.”
“Oh fuuuck.” Cherie throws back her head and groans. “Not again!”
“‘Not again’ what?”
But Cherie has already opened the little door on the side of the reception office and emerged into the lobby. She goes to the lobby doors and closes them, locks them at the bottom with a sliding bolt.
“We get a raid here, like, every couple months or so ... Honey, can you get that top bolt for me? Anyway, it’s boring, but you know how it is.”
Simon assists with the top bolt. “You just lock the main doors?”
“That’s only to give us some time. Can you maybe go and poke your head into the ballroom, let Marilyn at the door know that there’s a raid? Thank you so much.”
Simon can see uniformed police officers approaching, crossing the street to reach the hotel. Nomi’s words—The best idea would be to not get arrested anytime in the future—ring urgently in his ears, but he does as requested and strides over to the ballroom entry. The heavy door is covered in black felt. Inside the doorway, there’s a woman in a crop top and a tight skirt—presumably this is Marilyn.
“Hi,” he says. “Sorry to intrude, but Cherie at reception said to tell you there’s about to be a raid.”
“Oh great,” Marilyn sighs.
