He slams his hands on my desk. “Chet. You’re not hearing me. I demand that you let me in.”
A knock at the door. I open it to reveal Her Highness, Miss Bianca.
She will just get in the way. Damn! “Miss Bianca, aren’t you supposed to start singing soon?”
She nods. “Just have to run to my car real quick, grab my finishing powder. I’ll be back before my set begins.”
“I see.” I gesture her through the door. “Be back quickly or you’ll be missed.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She walks through the door and stops in her tracks when she lays eyes on Dr. O’Rourke.
There is an instant attraction. Its aroma swaths the entire room. It’s almost sickening.
And I realize.
Her Highness might just be a perfect ally to Dr. O’Rourke.
But I mustn’t be too hasty. Let it evolve organically. Let them focus on me as a common enemy, and then Her Majesty. They have been speaking for several moments, completely unaware of my presence.
I cut between the two of them. “Yes, and it is just luscious to see a new friendship blossoming. But you’ll have to take it outside. Although, Miss Bianca”—I pretend to check my watch, even though its battery has been dead for years—“you’ll have to keep it brief. Your first curtain is in ten minutes.”
Dr. O’Rourke cocks his head. “Your first curtain?”
Her Highness gestures to the door that leads to the mirrored staircase. “I’m the singer here.”
Dr. O’Rourke shoots his eyebrows up. “I thought you looked familiar. You have a lovely voice.”
Her Highness blushes. “Thank you. It’s a living, I suppose.”
More flirtation. I need to seal this deal quickly.
“If it’s a singer you’re looking for,” I interrupt, “you are welcome to scout Michigan Avenue for one, Dr. O’Rourke. But I really must insist that you leave now.”
And that does it. Her Highness slowly draws her finger over her left eyebrow, her lower lip trembling slightly as she looks from me to Dr. O’Rourke and then back to me.
“Chet,” she says. “I would like to invite Dr. O’Rourke to the club as my guest.”
Bingo.
Her Majesty is displeased.
“What on earth possessed you to allow a non-member in?”
“Miss Bianca made a good argument. She is not a full-time employee here, and the rules do not specify anything regarding independent contractors. By her logic, she must be a member who performs additional actions, not unlike Mr. Rose.”
Her Majesty crosses her arms. She isn’t buying it. She slowly stands and sits on the edge of her desk, her long legs straddling me as I sit in the wingback across from her. “Chet, my darling,” she says. “Are you unhappy here?”
“Of course not, my Queen.”
“Then why all this acting up? You used to be so obedient, so loyal. Now you’re doing things on your own accord.”
“I was the one who found Mr. Hathaway and Miss Maravilla in your office.”
“And how, I wonder, did they know how to get into my office in the first place? How on earth did they discover the Seven’s head in the nature preserve the weekend before Valentine’s Day?”
“My Queen?—”
“I have no proof, of course.” She examines her nails, picks a bit of fluff off one of them. “But you’ve changed, Chet. You’ve begun to labor under the delusion that you are your own person.” She lifts her leg and pushes her stilettoed heal into my left thigh. “Allow me to relieve you of that misconception.”
