If we got that, we could have a pool.” He’d saved his best argument for last.
From the look Andy was giving him, he should have led with that.
Loretta certainly thought so. “Your own pool? Oh my God I would never leave.” Both men laughed. “Are you going to build a new house?”
“We may have to,” Victor said. “For a bunch of reasons. But there are a lot of reasons why having a spare house could be a good thing. Between us we almost always know somebody who needs a short-term rental.”
“We could see if Paige wants to take point on it again.” The idea had been too much back when they were on tour. Now, the more Andy thought about it, the more he liked it. Maybe their real-estate guy could find a way in.
“Ping Elliott. See what he can find out. Because the second you said ‘pool’
my inner goldfish went yes please.”
Andy knew he was going to laugh about this later. They were supposedly on vacation, and here they were planning a concert, rehearsing two dances, discussing another real-estate deal, anticipating another Tanith project, and launching the Shakespeare photo sessions. Their own went off without a hitch. Loretta looked great for hers. Dmitri and Patrick were scheduled for the first week of September. Dana and Rory still hadn’t decided what they wanted to do. Andy nagged Rory about it: Make up your alleged minds She wrote right back: Kiss my grits
LOL you know I’ll put you in no matter what but I’ve got other people pitching things too now that the word is out. If somebody else comes in ready, don’t come crying to me about how those were the characters you really wanted
Gaahh whatever okay
I would have expected someone with an English degree to be a little more decisive about her text
Rory sent back a sticking-out-my-tongue emoji, and followed it up with: Speaking of English have you done your audition tape yet?
Tomorrow
Is Victor reading the scenes with you?
Of course
Well knock em dead
Thanks chica. Go make up your mind now plz
The following Sunday found Loretta, Andy and Victor seated at a lounge table, about a dozen feet back from the stage at Chrome. A couple of security guys from the company they used were discreetly nearby. The club was packed, the noise level was high, and Loretta was not sure about the show’s signature cocktail, a Black Widow martini. “It’s black?” she said. “How is it black?”
“Don’t worry,” the server said. “It’s dark rum and crème de cacao with a little food coloring. Not squid ink.”
She laughed. “Oh my God that’s what I was afraid of. Okay.” They all ordered the same thing. “I think I see why this cocktail, though,” she said, looking over the show’s program. Act I started with ‘Someday I’ll Fly Away,’ by Nicole Kidman; Act II ended with ‘Bad Girls,’ by Pussy Riot.
“Yeah, this is not a case of needing a bunch of dialogue to tell the story, is it?” Victor was smiling. “Sixteen numbers though, wow. That’s a big one.”
“Everybody we know is in this damn thing.” It was a slight exaggeration, but Andy was full of righteous envy. “I wish we could have done it. I want to dance every one of these songs with you.”
“Especially ‘Bad Girls,’” Victor said. Andy caught his eye and smiled.
“That’s definitely a song we should dance to.”
“Yes it is, sweetness.”
Not too surprisingly, they loved the show. Nearly every male dancer they knew appeared at least once. There were three who had through-lines. One was Charlie’s husband Sacha, in a cross-dressed role. The second was Tomás. They inferred from the graphic novel that he would be playing a lounge pianist, in love with the lounge singer. Here he seemed to be a sort of pet for the merciless women in charge, led by Vicky. The third was Andy’s prince Zach, who had a recurring role as a seducer before being assassinated.
Every other man in the cast was also shot, strangled, poisoned, stabbed, or otherwise exterminated before the end of the show. Every female dancer was getting a spotlight moment.
Victor and Andy were cracking up at how many ways the choreographers had come up with to introduce and then end characters.
“Vicky is enjoying this an awful lot,” Andy said at intermission.
“So is Anya. What did she say about Desdemona?”
“She said, the second this fucking show closes. Those exact words,”
Andy added, listening to Victor giggle. “Terry’s going to be dead Othello and Ricky will be dead Iago.”
“Can’t wait to see that. Loretta, what do you think so far?”
“I need to take more lessons!”
So many people were dancing at the after party, the club opened up the curtain to make more space. Andy and Victor took Loretta to join a crowd of cast members on stage. They each danced with her once before Ricky cut in.
After a while they saw her over at the bar, talking to Jim. “I love you,” Victor said. He was in Andy’s embrace, dancing slow tango to something fast.
Andy turned his head for a kiss. “I love you too.” He made eye contact for a second, to see if Victor’s statement was part of a conversation, or simply a gift. Apparently it was the latter. Andy kissed him again, and kept
dancing.
When they finally got home, very late, they steered a woozy Loretta into her room, took Molly out for a few minutes, and then went upstairs at a slower-than-usual pace. Washing up was leisurely too. They were both tired, but pleasantly so. The whole day leading up to the show they’d had next to nothing to do. The night before, they’d gone to bed early and slept late. Lying in bed together now, with Molly stretched out on the floor – she almost always came up to the bed
