“So is she.”
“Maybe,” Lily seemed unconvinced. “It’s just…her silences always seem so judgmental.”
‘Well, here’s a tip, next time, don’t use tea from her personal collection.”
“That tea chest is hers?” Jenny asked. Then she threw up her hands, smoking trailing in their wake. “How was I supposed to know that?”
“Oh, there’s absolutely no way you could have known, but that’s how it is. She’s an absolute tea fanatic. She’s also wild about costuming, so, another tip, give us more notice next time you throw a costume party. It takes her ages to perfect her costume.”
“She sounds kinda anal, if you ask me.”
Jenny shrugged. “We all have our quirks,” she said.
“Fair enough,” said Lily, blowing a stream of smoke into the damp air.
“Okay, no tea, more time for costumes…what else should I know?”
“She thinks you’re hot,” Jenny said.
“What? But I thought she hated me.”
“Oh, she does. And she’ll never admit to it, not even under torture, but she thinks you’re smoking.”
Lily chuckled. “Pun intended?” she asked, waving her cigarette.
Jenny grinned. “Of course. And one last thing: Miranda’s got huge amounts of creative talent, but she doesn’t have very much self-confidence. She knows she’s wasting her gifts in advertising and that makes her feel ever worse. She can get jealous of people if she thinks they’re doing better at life than she is, and it can take her a long time to warm up to you if she thinks you’re one of those people, which she does. You’re gonna have to show her that you’re on her side.”
“So, she’s high-maintenance, is what you’re saying,” Lily said, clearly unimpressed.
“I’m saying that, like any high-functioning machine or beautiful piece of art, she needs taking care of, but she’s worth the trouble in the end.”
“Uh huh,” said Lily, still skeptical.
“Plus, if you don’t take care of her, she’ll make your life miserable.”
“Now that I do believe,” Lily chuckled. “But you two are good friends, right?”
“Yep, she’s the closest thing this lonely only child has to a sibling. So you fuck with her and you’re fucking with both of us.”
“Duly noted,” Lily said. Flicking her cigarette butt into the tin can by the door, she changed the subject. “What are you going as next week?”
“For the party? Professor Dumbledore.”
“Who?”
“Professor Dumble…Christ, you’re worse than Miranda. The youth of today, I swear to God.”
“Oh, he’s from that wizard book, isn’t he?”
Jenny clutched her heart. “Please, just stop. You’re killing me. What are you going as?”
“Mrs. Fox.”
“Mrs. Who?”
“Yeah, from The Fantastic Mr. Fox. It was one of my favourite books as a kid – first book I ever read in English. And I absolutely loved the movie.”
“Did you read books not in English before that?” Jenny asked.
Lily laughed, nodding. “Yeah, my mom’s Colombian, so she taught me Spanish first. What about you? Did your parents teach you Spanish too?”
“My parents are from Mississauga and my grandparents were from Eastern Europe.”
“Really?” Lily looked surprised. “I always thought you were half Hispanic like me. Must be the hair.”
Jenny laughed, tugging at one of her thick, dark curls. “Nope, just Jewish.”
“My bad,” Lily smiled. “Well, I’d better get going. We’ve still got to do a sound check.”
“Break a leg,” Jenny smiled.
“Thanks. Good luck with Kezia.”
Jenny laughed. “Thanks, I’m gonna need it. God, I wish I were Hispanic. Ladies love the Latin charm.”
Lily swatted Jenny’s arm. “You’re charming enough as it is, in a goofy kind of way.”
“Goofy? You are not helping, Lily,” Jenny shook her head, laughing as she went back inside.
Kezia had kept Jenny’s beer behind the bar for her and she smiled as Jenny came back in. “I thought you’d run off on me,” she said, sliding the pint across the bar.
“Never,” said Jenny grinning back at her. Then a new customer came in and Kezia left to take their order. Looking down at her beer, Jenny noticed that Kezia had put in on a beer mat. Bored, Jenny pulled out the coaster to take a look at the logo – only to realise that Kezia had scrawled her name and number on it.
Jenny’s eyes lit up and, as subtly as possible, she waved the beer mat at Lily, pointing at it excitedly. Lily caught her eye and mimed a telephone call with her free hand. Jenny nodded and her co-worker grinned, giving her a thumbs up. Feeling very proud of herself, Jenny turned back to her beer.
Chapter 3
“I’m going as Mr. Fox,” said Miranda on Monday morning.
“Mr. Who?” Jenny asked, not really paying attention to the conversation as she stripped off her wet outerwear and hung it up to dry on the hook in their cubicle. It was raining, as per always.
“Mr. Fox from The Fantastic Mr. Fox.”
“Oh really?” Jenny asked, her eyebrows shooting up. She opened her mouth to tell Miranda about Lily and then thought better of it.
“Yeah, really. Why? Why are you looking at me like that?” Miranda asked, frowning. “What were you going to say?”
“Looking at you like what? I’m not looking at you and I wasn’t going to say anything,” Jenny replied, busying herself with her computer. “I think that’s a great costume.”
“Thanks. I’ve already got the fox mask made. It took me all weekend.”
Knowing Miranda’s detail-oriented approach to costuming, this did not surprise Jenny. “What’s left to do?”
“The tail and the feet. And his suit, of course, but that’s relatively simple.”
“Do you need help? Ooooh, we could have a costuming party. I’ll bring the wine.”
Miranda grinned. “And by ‘we could have a costuming party’ you mean you haven’t started yours yet and you want me to make it for you.”
Jenny pouted. “But you just make them so much better than I do!” she pleaded. They had this conversation every time she and Miranda had to go out in costume, which was surprisingly often considering they grown adults. It was one of the perks of theatre life.
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Make that two bottles of wine and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“You’re a star, Miranda.”
The other woman shook her head fondly. “But you’ll have to write up a description for me. Otherwise I’ll just watch one of the movies and make him look like that.”
Jenny shuddered. “Don’t say things like that in my presence. Those movies were abominations. All copies should all be burned. And then their ashes should be burned again just in case.”
“Yes, so I’ve heard you say,” Miranda snickered. She quickly grew silent as Lily had chosen that moment to walk by, her arms full of folders. Miranda narrowed her eyes at the other woman’s retreating back. “Though I have to say I’m pretty unimpressed by the fact that she’s chosen to have the party here. I mean, come on. We spend our whole lives in this place. Why would we want to party here too?”
Jenny rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, you just had to say, did you? Darling, you’re unimpressed by everything that woman does.”
“Well, seriously. You can’t deny that it seems a bit cheap. Like, is our labour not worth splurging on a better venue for?”
Jenny shrugged. “I dunno. I think it’ll be kind of fun to run around back stage with everything all decorated. It’s a total warren back there and we almost never get an excuse to explore it. Plus there’ll be lots of dark corners for doing dark deeds,” Jenny smiled, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Miranda was unimpressed. “You would take her side.”
“Aw, don’t be like that, Miranda. I’m just saying you should give her the benefit of the dou
bt. If the party’s terrible, I’ll happily spend all of November bitching about it with you. Maybe even the first week of December too. But can we reserve judgement until afterwards?”
“Ugh, fine,” Miranda replied, crossing her arms.
“Besides,” Jenny continued, “I really don’t think she drank your tea on purpose just piss you off. It isn’t labelled, after all.”
“Oh, so now it’s my fault?” Miranda replied archly. But her lips twitched and, after a moment, she smiled. “Okay, maybe I should put my name on it. That doesn’t change the fact that I think she’s a know-it-all and a show off. She never shut up during last week’s meeting.”
“I don’t suppose it could have had anything to do with the fact that she was shy and feeling intimidated by a room full of over-opinionated older women?” Jenny pointed out. Most of the senior members of the Galapagos administration had joined the workforce in the 80s, when the arts had few jobs and even fewer for women. They had all had difficult careers, and often difficult lives, all of which had combined to make them tough, blunt, and, frankly, terrifying – especially when assembled in the same small room.
They were a force to be reckoned with and, no matter how much they tried to mentor and encourage the next generation, their reputations preceded them in the tight-knit Vancouver theatre scene; the theatre’s latest hires had a habit of trying to overachieve in order to impress their venerable new bosses.
Miranda waved that suggestion away with one hand. “Young people these days don’t know how to feel intimidated. They’re self-promotion machines. Have you been on Twitter lately?”
“She’s only a year younger than you, Miranda.”
“And yet you’d never catch me advertising my latest creations on Twitter.”
“You would be doing exactly that if you hadn’t landed this gig,” Jenny pointed out. “There’s no harm in trying to eke out a living. It’s a tough economy for artists these days.”
“It’s always a tough economy for artists, Jenny.”
The other woman smiled. “True,” she agreed.
“Anyway, enough about Lily. Tell me about your bartender. Have you called her yet?”
“Pff, no. I’m playing it cool, obviously.”
“Sweetie, you’ve been going to that bar every Saturday for a month just to see her.”
“Yeah, but for all she knows I’m there for the band.”
Miranda looked skeptical but didn’t argue. “So what’s the plan?”
“Well, I was thinking about inviting her for a drink this week.”
“You should bring her to the party!” Miranda suggested, her eyes lighting up. She loved a good romance.
“What? Don’t be ridiculous, Miranda. That’s way too much for a first date. I’m playing it cool, remember?”
Miranda made a face. “But I want to meet her,” she pouted.
“Well, you could have come with me any of the past four Saturdays,” Jenny pointed out.
“You know that’s when I have drinks with the HR girls,” Miranda replied.
“Ah yes, and how are the Twigs?”
“Don’t call them that. It’s not their fault that they’re both heterosexual and incredibly thin.”
“Sure it is. Well, the thin part at least. All Alison talks about it her workout routine. Honestly, I don’t know how you manage to stay awake. I’d fall asleep head first into my cocktail.”
“They’re nice,” Miranda insisted. “And taking care of yourself is something to be proud of. Living off of take out and beer is nothing to brag about, Jenny.”
“Well, at least I get exercise,” Jenny replied, put out. “I burn it all off in kickboxing.” To prove her point, she flexed her biceps. Miranda had to admit that her friend kept herself extremely fit, even if the only vegetables she ate were the garnishes on her burgers. “But, seriously, Miranda, sometimes I think you only hang out with them because they make you feel superior.”
“What?” Miranda crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”
“They’ve done nothing risky their entire lives and hanging out with them makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something in yours. Whereas when you hang out with people like Lily, you feel like you haven’t done enough. Which is dumb, because you’re crazy talented and smart and do lots of cool things. I just wish you would realize that and stop feeling the need for other people’s validation. You’re so much better than that, honey.”
Miranda was silent. “If I was so talented I wouldn’t be working some dumb advertising job,” she said quietly. “I’d be making costumes for Cirque de Soleil or something.”
“Bullshit. It’s not a lack of talent. It’s a lack of confidence. And luck. Like I said, it’s a tough economy for artists.” Scooting her chair over to Miranda’s, Jenny slung her arm across her friend’s shoulder and kissed her cheek.
“One day you’re going to learn to trust in your talents, sweetheart. And then you’ll be unstoppable. And I’ll be there in the background telling everyone your success is all down to me and my guidance, like that Hungarian swimmer’s husband in the last Olympics.”
“Oh my God, that made me so mad,” Miranda replied angrily. “I couldn’t believe how every frigging news station kept crediting her success to her husband. Like he had anything to do with her hard work. Un-fucking-believable.”
“There’s my favorite little disgruntled renegade,” Jenny grinned, squeezing Miranda tight before sliding back to her own desk.
Miranda chuckled. “We’ve got to get these poster mock ups to the printers before lunch, Jenny. No more soul searching.”
“Okay. But just remember what I’ve told you.”
“I will. I haven’t forgotten it from the last time you told me either. Or the time before that.”
Jenny sighed. “Honestly, I’m hoping you’ll get so fed up with me repeating myself that you’ll make some drastic life changes just to shut me up.”
Miranda laughed. “It’s a definite possibility.”
Chapter 4
The day of the party rolled around and Vancouver was as grey and rainy as always. To save her costume from the rain, Jenny picked Miranda up in her decrepit VW Bug, even though Miranda only lived four blocks from the theatre. As they drove, Jenny hunched over the steering wheel, peering out into the rain. The bug’s wipers were desperately swishing endless sheets of rain off the windshield but it didn’t really seem to be making a difference.
“I feel like I’m driving through Niagara Falls,” Jenny complained, her long, white beard tossed over her shoulder to keep it out of her way.
“Well, it’s this, freezing your fingers off for six months of the year, or moving to the States. Your choice,” Miranda pointed out. Vancouverites like to moan about the rain – but not enough to move anywhere else in Canada.
“You make a good point,” Jenny replied as she circled the block, searching for a free parking space.
“Honey, why don’t you hop out and I’ll go find a parking spot. You don’t need to trudge around in all this rain. You’ll ruin your furry mask.” Looking across at her friend, Jenny shook her head. I can’t believe you dyed your hair just for this costume. You’re insane, Miranda.”
Miranda shrugged. “You know I’ve been meaning to change my look for a while. And I think the colour suits me.”
“Oh, it does,” Jenny smiled. “You look like a fox. Pun very much intended.”
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Dork,” she said, as Jenny pulled up in front of the theatre. “Thanks,” she told Jenny. “I hope you find a spot quickly. See you inside!”
The front hall was packed with arriving guests, all of them dripping wet and lining up to give their coats, hats, umbrellas, and, in one case, rubber boots to the overwhelmed coat check employees. Miranda took costumes too seriously to wear coats over them – no matter the weather – and bypassed the queue, heading downstairs to the lower lobby and the main stage.
As she wove her way through the masked and costumed crowd of actors, stage hands
, wardrobe staff, ushers, admin, sponsors, and various public dignitaries, Miranda had to admit that Lily had done a great job. Masked and tuxedoed waiters circulated with trays of murky drinks and themed finger foods while, above them, the ceiling had been covered with fake cobwebs that twinkled with hidden fairy lights. Lily had managed to strike a perfect balance between spooky, whimsical, and elegant.
Like the lower lobby, the main stage had been completely transformed. A masked orchestra was playing a waltz in the pit while costumed couples danced on the stage. In the wings, people queued for drinks under the ropes and weights that the stage hands used to change backdrops and lower in actors. Curious to see what Lily had done with the labyrinthine back passages, Miranda squeezed her way through one of the bar line ups and slipped back stage.
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