of her life. Dennis had not been there to greet her, nor had she expected that he would, and she was relieved not to have to see him again so soon after their last meeting.
Halfway through lunch, which Ann ate at her desk, Donna appeared at the door. 'You have a visitor,' she said. 'Your daughter?'
Donna stepped back, allowed Terri to enter the tiny room, and left them alone. 'Sit down,' Ann said. 'Here, let me move these papers.'
'You look like you've settled in,' said Terri, who remained standing. Ann noticed that she had her portfolio with her. 'Are you feeling particularly fulfilled yet?'
'Terri dear, when you are all grown up and married, I hope you have a daughter exactly like mine.'
'Thank you, mother. Now. Who do I have to… bribe to meet Marvella Johnson?'
Ann thought for a moment. She had made whatever loose arrangements she had with Dennis, and had no idea if he had even mentioned the situation to Marvella Johnson. Then she looked at the phone on her desk, at the initials next to the push buttons, in particular the one marked DKH, and made up her mind. 'Hold on,' she said, picked up the receiver, and pushed the button. Sid answered, but in less than a minute she was talking to Dennis, who sounded happy to hear her voice, and told her to bring Terri to the costume shop, where he would introduce them to Marvella.
Terri followed Ann silently down the hall and up the stairs. The place was such a labyrinth that Ann felt secretly proud that she remembered her way there. When they entered, Dennis was standing next to Marvella, his beaming face in harsh contrast to her wrinkled and frowning countenance. After the introductions, during which Marvella did not speak one intelligible word, Dennis walked Ann back to her office, leaving Terri and the costumer alone.
'I don't think they hit it off,' said Ann, as she sat behind her desk.
Dennis chuckled as he leaned against the door frame. 'Marvella doesn't hit it off with anyone. The costume shop is her domain, and she sees everyone else as interlopers – at least until they've worked with her for a while and she realizes they don't have smeared chocolate on their fingers or sabotage on their minds. Don't worry, they'll get along. And if Terri's good, she'll get the job.'
'I hope so. I'd like to see her happy again.'
'Again? How long has it been?'
'Oh, since she was six.'
They laughed, and Ann realized she felt comfortable with Dennis. Maybe, she thought, this could work out after all. They seemed to be friends now, and there was no reason they could not remain so, no reason they had to become anything more.
~* ~
Marvella Johnson's frown was a forced one. It took a great deal of effort to make her facial muscles press the sides of her mouth down so far, but, she thought, it was worth it. If she could get them crying, or at least get that lower lip trembling, then she knew they were busted, and would go away thanking sweet Jesus that they weren't going to work with the tyrannous Marvella Johnson.
But this girl – this Terri – was one tough cookie. She gave Marvella back stare for stare, and slapped her designs on the work table as though daring her prospective boss to criticize them. Marvella liked that. It meant the girl wasn't prepared to put up with bullshit. Marvella hadn't put up with bullshit for years. 'This all you brought?' she asked Terri, her steely black fingers flipping through the contents of the portfolio like a harrow through weeds.
'You want more, I can get more. But I don't have it here.' She sounded, Marvella thought, just pissed off. There wasn't the trace of a sob.
'No, I guess this's enough to show me what you can do. The designs are fine, but what about the construction? You good with a machine?'
'I've built everything you see there.' The girl took a colored envelope from her purse. 'Here are the photos.' She tossed the envelope so that it spun twice before it hit the table.
Marvella snorted, picked it up, and looked through the pictures inside. They were damn good, she thought, with the disappointment she always felt when she found someone she knew was good enough to work for her. It had to be done. She needed someone even now, for the bulk of the work was creeping up on her. Alone, she would be in no condition to costume the show due to open in the spring. Nope, no way around it. She could hire some of the people she'd worked with before, and when the time came, probably would. But she needed someone now, someone who would work like hell and take no shit except from her, and was damn good at what she did. Who knows, she thought, maybe I might even learn to like the little bitch.
Marvella tossed the pictures on the table and looked up at the girl. 'You start next Monday. Work out the salary with Miss Franklin.'
~* ~
Sweet Jesus! Terri thought, and felt the smile burst across her face before she could contain it. She thought about pushing it back, then decided what the hell, Marvella Johnson had already seen it. The only thing more uncool than losing your cool was doing it and then pretending you hadn't. 'Thanks, Ms. Johnson.'
'Don't load any of that 'Miz' crap on me. That's what my mama used to call the ladies she did floors for. Marvella'll be fine. We're on an equal footing here, except for what I say goes.' She nodded her head several times as she looked at Terri appraisingly. 'Yeah, you're gonna be fine. But get outta here now, I got work to do.'
'Sure. And thanks.' Marvella waved a hand in reply and turned back to her work. Terri couldn't call her Marvella. Not yet.
She felt jubilant as she walked down the hall to the elevator she had passed on the way up. For a moment she thought of finding her mother and telling her that she had gotten the job, but decided not to. She would drop it at the dinner table tonight, subtly, as though it was no big thing, just something that she deserved. Although Terri was surprised Marvella had chosen her, she didn't want Ann to know that. No, she would let Ann think that the real surprise would have come if Marvella had not offered her the job. That would piss her off royally.
The elevator doors opened, and Terri got on and pushed 1. The three story ride was slow, and Terri started to think about Dennis Hamilton. He was good looking, there was no doubt of that, and the way that he carried himself was a real turn-on – like someone born to be rich and famous. And too, when he had looked at her in the costume room, was she imagining it or had he examined her with more than ordinary interest? His smile had been very warm, and she was sure she had caught him, just for a moment, looking at her legs.
She giggled as the elevator doors opened, then stepped out into the large, elegant lobby, too busy with her thoughts to see the vast and priceless oriental rug over which she walked, the marble arches that spread over her, the Emperor looking down on her from the mezzanine balcony above.
~* ~
I shall have this one. Perhaps the mother later, but first the young one. I'll have her flesh, and with it I shall do whatever I want.
Whatever the Emperor wants.
Scene 10
That evening Marvella worked late in the costume shop. She wouldn't have normally, but Robin had sent a script down from New York by Federal Express. It was the script, the one that looked like the best possibility for production by the New American Musical Theatre Project, and Marvella decided immediately that she would have to see what pieces already existed for the 1930's American city milieu in which the show was set.
She had gone to the costume shop after dinner, climbed up the rickety stairway to the fifth-floor loft, and begun to go through the racks of unironed (and in many cases uncleaned) clothes that she had not yet explored. When she found a costume she thought might be serviceable, she threw it over the edge of the loft and let it float down to the floor of the shop below. By nine o'clock, when she paused to look over the edge, she discovered that she had quite a pile below, and decided to take a break.
Marvella always took her own coffee grinder and drip coffee maker wherever she went. To offer her coffee from a machine was tantamount to giving pork to a rabbi. It simply wasn't done, and no one did it twice. Now Marvella ground six scoops of Blue Mountain beans, one of the few luxuries she allowed herself, poured fresh water in the reservoir, turned the switch to on, and sat back for a minute while the coffee brewed and the air filled with its deliciously bitter-smelling steam.
The ragged bubbling had nearly stopped when the door to the costume room opened. 'Looks like I'm just in
