She shushes me.
“And next up, my darlings,” Belle continues, “we have the lovely, the ultratalented, the ultraflexible, Elodi Maker!”
“I think that’s them,” Annie says, nudging me. “El. Lylah’s roommate.”
We watch as Elodi lip-syncs while dancing and contorting their body in all sorts of frightening and impressive ways. But, though we literally wait at the edge of our seats, the goose never makes an appearance.
“Maybe they perform a second time and will bring it out then?” Annie suggests.
The rest of the show continues without another appearance from Elodi Maker, and absolutely no sign of the goose in any other acts.
Meanwhile, I watch all sorts of performers doing all sorts of vaguely suggestive things onstage while slowly shedding layers of clothing, and yet all I keep thinking about is Annie, and specifically the moment where I unbuttoned her coat and revealed the warm, curvy shape of her beneath.
Which I’m pretty sure is not what any of these performances are supposed to be making me think about.
Why can’t I simply transfer my desire in the direction of any of these objectively beautiful people? Why do I have to only have eyes for the brash, gorgeous woman seated beside me, laughing at Belle Époque’s bawdy closing monologue?
I mean, I know why. It’s the same reason I couldn’t hook up with Mindy when given the opportunity: Something inside me needs connection before I can think of someone that way. And connection has never been particularly easy for me.
But with Annie, it’s been easy from the moment I met her. Not just easy, but unavoidable. As if she walked into Virtu and immediately launched a harpoon into my chest, linking us before I could even register the danger.
And it is dangerous. Because she’s going back to New Jersey in a few weeks, and whether she cuts the rope or yanks out the barbed head, I’m worried I’m going to be left to slowly bleed out.
“Come on,” she says, tugging at my sleeve—her preferred method of getting my attention—as the lights brighten again and everyone around us stands. “We need to go talk to El before they leave.”
I’m anticipating having to concoct some sort of story about why we need to get backstage, but security winds up being just a petite stagehand who doesn’t think twice before telling us that El is in the second dressing room on the left.
We go in to find them along with two other performers, removing their makeup in a mirror.
“Elodi Maker?” I ask.
“Yes?” they say, finding us in the reflection. Registering that Annie is standing beside me, they continue, “If this is a request for a threesome, I’m flattered, and you two are super cute, but I’m actually seeing someone right now. We’re trying out monogamy, so—”
“Huh?”
“We’re not here to proposition you.” Annie takes over, much less thrown by El’s assumption. “Although youaresuper hot, so I’m sure you get that a lot.”
“Oh, I do,” they say with an appreciative grin. “But if that’s not what you’re here for, then…”
“We’re actually here because your roommate told us you have a taxidermy goose that belongs to a client of ours. We need it back.”
“Lylah said you were using it for the performance tonight,” I add. “But we didn’t see it.”
“Oh. Yeah. The goose. I was going to use it tonight, that’s true. I thought it would make an interesting prop. Except I brought it in for dress rehearsal two nights ago and some of the troupe got, like,reallyupset. A bunch of them are, like, hardcore vegan, and they refused to perform with it in the building. Which I understand. Itwassorta unnerving. Especially dressed in a little straw hat and glasses.” El holds their circled fingers up to their eyes, mimicking the look. “Thought it would be cheeky but kind of just emphasized how dead it was.”
“So where is it now?” I ask. “Back at your apartment?”
“Ah. No…” Elodi grabs another makeup removing wipe and rubs it over their mouth to take off their lipstick. When they’re done, they say, “I actually lent it to a friend.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Weren’t you supposed to give it back to Lylah so she could return it to where she stole it from?”
“Well, yeah. And I will. But my friend is a photography student at the art school and he’s got this big project due. He said the goose would be perfect for the assignment when he saw it in my car the other day. So he’s borrowing it. He’s supposed to bring it back to my place tomorrow night, though. And then Lylah can do whatever she needs to do with it.”
“We would really rather not wait,” I say. “Can you give us your friend’s info so we can get in touch with him? Then it will save everyone a lot of time.”
“Sure, I guess.” Elodi whips out their phone and reads out a number, which I save to my contacts. “His name is Roland. Roland Eady.”
“Is it too late to call him?” Annie asks, glancing at the clock on the wall showing that it’s almost eleven.
