“I feel naked,” Vivian whispered, blushing, which made Archie laugh.
“All right,” the blonde said, gathering her troops. “We’re all heading down, and we’ll just hope that whoever’s trying to cause trouble for our new friend gets thrown off the scent by so many beautiful girls all together.”
Vivian felt wobbly with nerves, but she knew how to put on a good show. As they left the washroom, she looped her arm through Archie’s, walking as carefully as she could on her injured ankle. She began asking him about his costume and how the masquerade winners were judged, a wide, dazzling smile on her face.
They reached the first floor before she spotted the two men. They were lurking near the staircase, watching both the stairs and the doors.
She was only a few feet away when she felt their eyes on her. Vivian didn’t look at them, laughing loudly as Archie and another girl described the ball gown one of last year’s winners had worn. Her skin was crawling, and she wondered if her ankle would give up completely if she had to run again. The one with the mustache took half a step toward her.
But his eyes weren’t on her face. They were traveling over her exposed midsection and her pearl-draped hips. Vivian felt a hysterical laugh bouncing around in her chest. Half of her wanted to shrink away from his leer. But the smarter part of her leaned into the spectacle, swaying her hips deliberately so the panels of silk shifted and whispered against her stocking-clad legs, and the rhinestones scattered over her body sparkled under the electric lights of the chandeliers. When his eyes traveled up to her face, catching hers for a moment, she winked and blew him a kiss.
Mustache’s eyes lit up, and for a moment Vivian wondered if she’d made a mistake. But he was still leering, and he took another half step toward her before a jab from his friend’s elbow caught his attention. He winced, turning away to glare at Hulking Shoulders as the two began whispering heatedly, their survey of the room growing more lackluster with every sweep of their heads.
“—stay here or tell him she’s long gone?” she heard Mustache grumble, rubbing at his ribs where his friend’s massive elbow had hit him.
Vivian didn’t wait to find out what they’d decide. She was shakingwith relief as she was swept out of their sight and into the ballroom, where the girls scattered, heading to the dance floor or to the bar.
Vivian caught the blonde’s eye. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You okay from here? Or you think you’ll need an armed guard for the rest of the night?” the blonde asked. “Looked like pretty rough types.”
Vivian shook her head. “They looked right past me,” she said, barely able to believe it.
Leila, who was holding the blonde’s arm, laughed. “Well, not right past you,” she said. “I think rightatyou is more accurate.”
Vivian felt herself blushing, and the heat in her face only grew as the blonde looked her over once more. “Can’t blame them,” she said with a wry grin before sliding her arm around Leila’s waist. “Come on, love. That dance floor is calling our names.”
“And how,” Leila agreed. “Enjoy your new duds!” she said over her shoulder as they disappeared into the crowd.
“All right, doll,” Archie said, giving her arm a squeeze. “You need help finding your people?”
Vivian wanted to beg him to stay with her. But she didn’t know him, and he didn’t owe her anything, and she could see that he was already looking longingly after his own friends. She shook her head. “I’m good from here. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“We gotta stick together when the fellas get nasty,” he said with a wink. “Good luck out there. You find your friends and get out of here while the getting’s still good, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” Vivian said, meaning it. She returned his wave as he swanned off into the crowd, then took a careful step. Her ankle was sore, but the sharp pain had mellowed. She needed to get off it soon, but if she sat down, she wouldn’t have the energy to get up again. So she began a slow circuit of the room, trying not to limp as she headed in the direction of the bar. It was hard to blend into the crowd in Leila’s costume; no one batted an eye, but plenty of folks looked her up anddown, and a few started to move toward her. Vivian changed direction more than once, dodging between clumps of people as she scanned the room for familiar faces.
She didn’t see anyone from downstairs, and she hoped that meant they had given up on finding her. But she was still sweating with nerves. The band was shifting from the hot, frenzied tempo of the last hour into something a little gentler when she finally spotted Leo and Mags, just at the edge of the dance floor, applauding the end of a song.
Vivian hurried over to them, stumbling a little on her sore ankle. They were looking in her direction, but Mags’s eyes went right over her. Leo’s lingered before he began to turn politely away. Then recognition dawned, and his head snapped back toward her.
“Viv?” he said in disbelief, grabbing Mags’s hand and hauling her off the dance floor while she protested. “Sweetheart, what…” He didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t looking her up and down with open, heated appreciation. “Not that I’m complaining, but what happened to your clothes?”
“Good golly, Viv!” Mags exclaimed, though luckily the noise of the people and the music meant her surprise didn’t turn any heads. “You look like you joined a burlesque troupe since we seen you last.” She looked excited by the thought.
“I’ll tell you in a cab,” Vivian said, glancing around. “But the night’s over. We’ve gotta head out.” When Mags started to protest, Vivian shook her head. “Right now.”
Leo, to her relief, didn’t stop to ask questions, just put an arm around each of their waists and led them toward the door. On the way, he spotted a coat someone had hung over a chair, and he slowed long enough to snag it with one hand and drape it over Vivian’s shoulders.
When she protested, he pressed a single finger against her lips. “As much as I’m enjoying the view, I don’t think you should be strolling down the street in that getup.”
“But it’s stealing,” Vivian hissed.
He pulled it around her like a cloak. “Not the worst thing I’ve done in my life. Come on.” He frowned at her. “Are you limping?”
“Turned my ankle a little,” Vivian said, shaking her head. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here.”
It might have taken them an hour to reach the door, or maybe it was only a few seconds. Before Vivian was quite sure how it happened, they were back on 155th Street, where people were still arriving, laughing and smoking and clamoring to get into the party. Leo led them through it all, sliding up to a cab that three men had just left and ushering Vivian and Mags in without missing a beat. Vivian was still catching her breath as she slid across the back seat.
