"Wow, I'd have liked to see Nora in full 90s acid Barbie realness." Natasha hopes that she's right in remembering that the main character is Nora.
Sawyer yell-laughs, "Bitch – it was perfect! It's all about escape from suburbia! It's literally called A. Doll's. House."
Natasha can't help shrieking. She knows her two full rows of teeth are showing, and she's flapping her hands.
Sawyer stops laughing, "It's a great centre, you can tell it's a labor of love." Her voice is soft. Natasha ducks her head, pulls at the back of her neck.
"I better get moving," Natasha says. "I have to see a man about some Romanov family photos."
After her last class of the day Natasha usually sees who is working on the front desk and the kitchen. Today she waves breezily at Lucia on the front desk and sails through the glass doors. She pulls her scarf twice around her neck, and heads off into the Fall air. It's still fairly warm, but the trees are beginning to turn a rich, burnt orange. Natasha loves Boston in the Fall. Natasha lights a cigarette, switches it between her hands. She bends her knees and does a couple of quick squats in the street to burn off some of the restless energy humming through her.
CHAPTER TWO
✤✤✤
Sawyer waits for Skype to connect, wine in hand. Finally, the faces of her two former roommates come into view.
"Mikaela! Kimberly! Hi!" They are in Sawyer's old living room. There are pictures of the three of them on the wall. Only the absence of Sawyer's vintage Barbies, and the lack of her guitar propped against the sofa betray that Sawyer has gone.
Kimberly is sketching, holding her soft colored pencils in her hand. A number of sheets are spread out around her. Next to her is Mikaela, her lap full of black fabric. She is hand sewing something that looks structured and complicated.
"You look great!" enthuses Kimberly.
Mikaela scans Sawyer for signs of something she can worry about. "Been sleeping, bitch?" Her harsh Louisiana accent never fails to make Sawyer smile.
"Yes, Mikaela."
"Eating?"
"Yes, Mikaela."
"Well I can see that, actually. You know, unlike a bear, you can just put on a coat in winter. You don't need to store blubber," Mikaela's eyes are warm and she smirks at Sawyer.
"That's seals, actually. But I'll allow it. Go on," Sawyer wiggles her head at the screen, as Kimberly elbows Mikaela.
"Why haven't you unpacked, hooker Barbie?"
"I have...a bit," Sawyer gestures behind her to the large neon pink sign which reads Get Shit Done in a swirling font, a parting gift from Mikaela and Kimberly. She had also unpacked the uplighter lamps synced to her iPhone, her guitar and a picture of the three of them in their first apartment after college.
"What are you guys working on?" asks Sawyer, wishing that she was squeezed between them on their old couch.
Kimberly holds her drawings up to the screen. The low-quality camera doesn't pick up much, but Sawyer can see drawings of a lithe blonde woman in sweeping gowns and masks.
"I'm doing some costume concept designs for this Australian singer, Courtney Act. She saw my 'Korean Evolution' piece and emailed me. There are lots of birds...angels...moving parts. It's fun!"
Mikaela breaks in, "This is not fucking fun! It's fucking Titus Andronicus with 40s Thin White Duke stylings. The Director wants everything 'authentic,'" Mikaela purses her lips and tilts her head to the side before continuing. "So, I tell her we can get these off the peg for 40 bucks each and just do alterations. But no, I'm here, doing fucking seams with my hands."
Sawyer squints at the screen, whistles.
"That's going to be a hard fabric to light," says Sawyer. Mikaela goes to the lamp and moves the fabric under it.
"Yeah, you're telling me! I wanted to pick out some details in this grey metallic edging I've got, but the director doesn't want it to be too 'faggy,'" Mikaela's sardonic tone is mirrored on Sawyer's face.
"But look at Miki!" Mikaela heads off camera to her room. She comes back, Sawyer gasps. It's a bit tight over Mikaela's tits, and it's too long on her scrawny legs but it's gorgeous. It has Mikaela's statement boat neck but after the bust it falls into layers of gauzy, silver material. It's virginal and regal, composed yet disheveled.
"Mikaela, it's -"
"Wait- " screeches Kimberly. "Wait for the severed hand reveal!"
Mikaela flips up the long sleeves of the dress, her wrists are folded under to mimic the prosthetic wrists the actor will wear. The innermost layer of the dress is blood red.
"Bitch, that is so good!" Squeals Sawyer. "You are so fucking talented!"
Mikaela is off screen, changing.
"How's your show?" asks Kimberly.
"It's good. They've blocked it and I've had the notes every day. I've been using the set box to try out a few things. Some of the smaller venues have told me fucking nothing about their rigs. We should get a full run through on Friday. We're opening in Boston, then going to New York for our first residency. Then back to Boston, then a tour through Mass."
"Where's the closest to Chicago?" Mikaela is back now, wearing her PJs and, alarmingly, a sheet mask.
"Not close," says Sawyer, picking her nails.
