Someone calls Irma's attention and she floats off, peppering Sawyer and Natasha with kisses as she goes.
Soon, Sawyer is deep in conversation with some of the other lighting designers present, and Natasha hovers by her elbow, trying to nod in the right places but feeling more lost by the second. She tries not to say anything kooky. She squeezes Sawyer's fingers, whispers in her ear that she's seen someone she knows and needs to say hi.
It's a lie. She hangs around the canapés and stares at the groups, all chatting animatedly. She can see Sawyer from across the room, the most striking of women in the most beautiful dress.
"That's a beautiful dress," a voice next to Natasha murmurs.
"It's lovely," Natasha breathes, "her best friend made it, bespoke."
"Her? Oh! No, I meant yours. I love the hem. It reminds me of a coral or something."
"Thank you! Thank you very much!" Natasha turns and grins at the other woman. She's young and dark haired. Shorter than Natasha or Sawyer, with smooth skin under her eyes and a dimple in her chin. She's pretty, Natasha thinks.
"Are you an actor?" The girl asks.
"No, I, er, I came with my girlfriend. I work at the Boston Women's Art Centre."
"Oh yeah! My friend performs at that scratch night sometimes. They're a friend of, Christ, I've forgotten her name. It's like a Russian one or something."
"Lucia Vanski. I think it’s either Polish, or Yiddish, by the way." Natasha supplies.
"Yes! That's her."
"I couldn't do without Lucia, she's just this fucking Erté liquid latex poodle devil bitch from hell, or heaven, who knows?" says Natasha.
"You someone important then?" Meghan asks.
"Not particularly important, no," Natasha gives Meghan the slow bat of her eyelashes, the even slower reveal of her big white teeth. It's an expression that she often deploys on Sawyer, has deployed on many women before her.
Meghan giggles and steps a bit closer into Natasha's space. "So, this is probably a bit up itself for you, yeah?"
Natasha laughs, "I don't think this is anyone's thing. I think it's just one of those things people feel they have to say is a good idea, like open plan offices or organized religion."
The girl's eyes crinkle when she laughs, and she taps her fingers on Natasha's wrist.
"You're real funny." She smiles and doesn't remove her fingers from Natasha's wrist.
"I'm Meghan. I'm an actor, I've not been nominated for anything though," Meghan laughs airily and rakes her hand through her hair. Her hair is thick and glossy and it takes a moment for the strands to fall back into place on her shoulders. Her breasts are pushed firmly together in her dress, and Natasha's eyes flicker over them before she makes herself slide her gaze away from them. She sees Sawyer's golden hair shining from across the room.
Meghan starts again, "Are you going anywhere later? Like, to party? I've messaged people to tell them to come here for a free drink before we bounce."
Natasha shrugs, "It depends on my girlfriend, I guess. It's her night, really."
Natasha feels the need to say girlfriend again, just in case the girl missed it the first time. She has a strong feeling that the girl didn't miss it the first time.
Meghan gives Natasha a sidelong glance. "Well let me know if you change your mind."
Over the speakers, a voice invites people to take their seats for the beginning of the awards. Natasha picks her way through the crowd. Sawyer is already sat, talking to the other people allocated to their table. She hears Sawyer say, “- yes, it's a small place but they have a tiny cinema and gallery as well as a theatre and cafe. And they do classes, groups stuff too. It's all very rooted in the community."
Natasha feels warm all over at the thought of Sawyer doing her best to promote Natasha as well as herself. She thinks of Meghan's fingers on her wrist and acid works her way up her esophagus. She swallows it down, determines to do her best for them both for the rest of the evening.
"Natasha!" Sawyer exclaims, turning to the woman next to her and pointing at Natasha, "This is Natasha! Natasha, this is Shea. I was just telling Shea about you. Can you believe that Shea has also just moved here from Chicago? Boston is so small compared to home, you know? I was telling her about the cool places that I've found since I've been here."
Sawyer's face is so open, so earnest, that it makes Natasha kind of want to die.
The lights dim, and Sawyer reaches to put her hand over Natasha's knee. She wants to pick it up and take Sawyer's fingers into her mouth, feel her knuckles with her tongue and teeth.
The awards are a series of titles, names and faces that Natasha doesn't know, apart from one girl that Natasha thinks she might have known from school. Unlike the Oscars, they don't have a clip from every production nominated so Natasha has limited ways to even guess whether A Ring For Barbara or Shot! has made better use of sound design. For Sawyer she keeps a smile on her face the whole time, even when the sound on the microphones fades in and out and Sawyer digs her nails into Natasha's leg.
Eventually, the award for best lighting design is announced. Sawyer's grip on Natasha's
