“She had you watch me?” Vivian could feel her cheeks getting hot again. “For how long?”
“Only one night, kitten. Bea told her you were made of tough stuff, and after that we left you to fend for yourself. I guess Hux just keeps her own eye on you now,” he added with a wink.
Vivian rolled her eyes at his teasing, though she could feel her blush spreading. “You still got my purse back there, Danny?” When he handed the tiny beaded bag over—stashing her things behind the bar was a perk that Bea always arranged for her—Vivian slid off her stool. “Gonna go powder my nose. Bea, don’t drink all my champagne while I’m gone.”
“You barely left enough for me to swipe anyway!”
Vivian grinned at her friend’s grumpy protest as she made her way through the crowd. The doorway at the end of the bar led to a long corridor, ending in one staircase up and one door. The door led to the alley, where cases of booze were delivered at dusk and sweaty couples went to neck in the shadows. At the top of the staircase, according to Bea, were the rooms that the club owner sometimes lived in. Halfway up, another door, always locked, led to Honor Huxley’s office. Only select patrons were ever invited up there—or ones who caused the kind of trouble that was dealt with out of earshot of the rest of the club.
Vivian ducked into the ladies’ powder room, the first door after the dance hall. The noise level barely decreased as the door swung shut behind her.
Inside, women reapplied lipstick in a cloud of smoke and Shalimar, stretched out aching feet, and chatted about their partners of the night and the husbands and fathers that waited—knowingly or unknowingly—at home. Vivian smiled at the girls she knew as she ducked into the adjoining room and waited her turn, eventually making her way back to the powder room to check her paint. The space in front of the mirror was crowded, though. Just as she found a corner where she could catchher own reflection, someone jostled her elbow. She dropped her lipstick, half the tube’s contents smearing into the carpet.
“Damn,” Vivian muttered, bending down to retrieve it.
“Oh golly, I’m sorry.” The nervous girl who’d bumped her peered at the damage, and Vivian recognized the new girl Danny had pointed out on the dance floor. “Any hope for it?”
“Probably not,” Vivian said, forcing a smile. It was hard to do—makeup was an indulgence, as both the weeks of saving and her sister’s disapproving sighs reminded her—but the girl looked so flustered that Vivian didn’t have it in her to get upset. “Honest, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”
“I really am sorry,” the girl said again, glancing around as if looking for something helpful to do, before she was jostled out of the way by the press of sweaty, glitzy bodies. Vivian eyed the ruined stick of color warily, trying to decide whether it could be saved.
“I wouldn’t recommend putting that anywhere near your mouth after it’s been on this floor,” someone said. It was the stylish brunette who had claimed Mr. Lawrence for the Charleston. She gave Vivian a friendly nudge with her elbow. “It’s a jungle, isn’t it? Here.” She fished in her purse and handed her own lipstick over to Vivian. “Use mine, doll.”
“Thanks.” Vivian slid the color over her lips with a practiced flick. “It’s Margaret, isn’t it? I’ve seen you here before.”
“Mags, I beg you. Only Mother and Dad call me Margaret.” The brunette made a pouting grimace in the mirror, then laughed. “Sorry I stole Laurie from you out there. He’s such a sweet old thing, isn’t he? How did you get so chummy with the bartender? He won’t give me the time of day, cruel man.”
“My friend’s one of the waitresses here,” Vivian said. She tried to hand the lipstick back, but Mags gestured her away with a careless wave.
“Keep it, honey, it looks swell on you.”
Vivian glanced down at the lipstick in her hand. The tiny silver tube had a red stone on the cap—the sort that was part of a set, that you could take to a makeup counter and have refilled with your personalshade when you used it up. It probably cost more than the shoes she was wearing. She closed her hand around it enviously, then hesitated. “You sure?”
Mags didn’t even glance down. “Of course. If you need to pay me back, you can introduce me to your bartender friend sometime.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Lovely. If you see my fella out there, tell him I’ll be another minute, will you?”
“The grumpy-looking one from the dance floor?”
“That’s the one,” Mags agreed, seeming not at all bothered by the unflattering description. “Roy’s a peach when you get him dancing, but Lord, can he be a stick-in-the-mud!” She waved over her shoulder as she headed toward the back room. “See you out there.”
The bright notes of a quickstep pattered down the hallway as Vivian emerged from the powder room, but for the moment it was empty. There was a brief, welcome draft of cool night air as someone opened the door to the alley, and she shivered as it hit her flushed skin. She glanced over, expecting to see a giggling couple finding their way back inside, but it was a single man, tucking a carton of cigarettes inside his jacket as he let the door slam behind him. In the hallway’s dim light, it took her a moment to recognize Mags’s date. His former surly look was smoothed into a pleased smile, and Vivian couldn’t help enjoying the view. He was decidedly good-looking, with the sort of square-jawed, tanned face, framed by thick wavy hair, that smiled out of ads for Barbasol and Coca-Cola. No wonder the pretty brunette kept him around.
He caught sight of her as the door closed, and for a brief moment his smile faltered. “You looking for me, sweetheart?”
“Not especially,” Vivian said. “Roy, right? Your girl said to tell you she’d be a minute more.”
“She’s always a minute more,” he said, his brows drawing down into a scowl once again. “Well, thanks,” he added, brushing past her without bothering to meet her eyes. “Suppose I have time for another drink.”
Roy drew up sharply at the door back into the dance hall, nearlyrunning into Bea as she came through. For a moment they both eyed each other in surprise before Bea pulled back to let him pass, eyes fastened on the ground and head ducked protectively down as he looked her over. Vivian couldn’t hear what he muttered, but she saw Bea flinch and pull even further into herself as Roy pushed past and disappeared into the crowded room.
Bea didn’t move, her back still pressed against the wall, even after he was gone, and Vivian hurried over. “Bea? You okay?”
“Fine.” Bea shook her head, sliding into the hall so she was out of sight from the other room. “Just got careless, is all. Can’t do that anywhere. Not even here.”
Vivian nodded, still keeping a little bit of distance between them, though she reached out to squeeze her friend’s hand. Bea wasn’t the sort of girl who liked to be cuddled or hugged, even when she was upset, but after a moment she squeezed back.
