by Susan Gloss
“You didn’t tell me you were staying with them,” Violet said. “I take it things are still uncertain with your husband, then.”
Amithi’s voice cracked as she said, “Yes.”
Violet opened up her arms for a hug. When Amithi didn’t react, Violet went ahead and embraced her anyway. At first, Amithi’s body felt stiff, but then she dropped her shoulders and relaxed.
Amithi had tears in her eyes when Violet pulled away. “I am sorry to bother you with my troubles. I know you are very busy today.”
“I’ve got quite a few troubles of my own, so at least I know I’m not the only one,” said Violet.
“I am glad you will have a chance to meet my daughter.”
“I can’t wait,” Violet said.
Seeing the pride in Amithi’s face when she talked about her daughter reminded Violet of the question Sam had asked her the night before, about whether or not she wanted kids. She hated that the conversation came to mind now, after everything Sam had done for her in the past twenty-four hours. He had been such an incredible support, making calls for her and running errands to get clean-up supplies for the store. Even as she was grateful for his help, she sensed something had shifted between them since the previous night. She willed herself not to worry about it, but nevertheless, Sam’s confession about not wanting a family changed the way she saw their future, if they had one. Between Sam, the incident with Jed, the eviction action, and the revue, Violet felt like she was standing on a suspension bridge ready to snap and send her plunging into unknown currents.
Lane came over and checked something off on her clipboard. “So, Violet, have you thought about how you want to do the auction part?”
“I’m sorta stuck on it,” Violet said. “I think I’ve ruled out a live auction because it would just be too much going on onstage, with the fashion show and everything. And anyway, I don’t have an auctioneer lined up. So I was thinking of doing a silent auction and opening it up for bidding after the show, but I need to get programs printed so people can take notes while they watch the models and mark off things they’re interested in, so they know what to bid on later.”
“That makes sense,” Lane said. “We need to get those programs printed quickly, though. The revue’s only a couple of days away.”
“I know. I kept meaning to get to it, but between cleaning up after the vandalism and all the other last-minute stuff, I don’t know how I’m going to find time.”
Lane shook her head. “I still can’t believe what happened at the store.”
“It looks awful,” Violet said. “You haven’t even seen it, and hopefully you won’t have to. Sam is already working on getting rid of the graffiti. What I’m most worried about, though, is my ex coming back and doing something worse. I’ve got a restraining order in the works, but it’s only helpful if someone catches him near my property.”
Two models came out onto the stage, bickering about the order of the lineup.
Violet had lost her patience. She shouted, “There will be no more changes to the order of the show. Please let everybody else know.”
One of the models, a leggy drag queen in a purple seventies jumpsuit, stomped off through the wing at stage left. The other model, a petite girl with dyed red hair and a nose ring, gave Violet and Lane an apologetic look and followed her cast mate off the stage.
“Is there anyone you could delegate the program project to?” Lane asked after they’d gone.
Violet thought about it. April was good at computer stuff—she could probably design and print out the programs in plenty of time. And there was still the auction to organize. Violet still thought April had overstepped her bounds. But she’d been so sincere in her apology about how she’d acted that Violet felt she deserved another chance.
Violet called her at the shop. “Hi, April? It’s Violet. How are things going over there?”
“Pretty good,” April said. “Sam got the mannequin put back together.”
Violet smiled, thinking about Sam fussing with the sundress-clad mannequin. It made her love him even more.
“Hey, Lane said you’ve been on bed rest for the last two weeks. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I figured you had enough to worry about.”
“Next time something important is going on in your life, good or bad, keep me in the loop, promise?”
“Promise,” April said. “How’s the rehearsal going?”
“Okay,” Violet replied. “Can I entrust you with an important task?”
“Absolutely. What do you want me to do?”
“The whole auction component of the revue.”
“Really?” April sounded excited.
“Yes, really. I was thinking we’d do a silent auction, and take bids for about an hour or so after the runway show while people have cocktails and things. I need you to work with someone to get the programs printed, and organize and make all of the bidding materials. You can hire someone to help you with it if you want, but I can only give you a budget of a couple hundred dollars to do it.”
“Oh, that’s no problem. I’m good at working within a budget.”
“Great. Do you think you could have a mock-up for me to look at by the end of the day tomorrow? I want to take a look at it before it goes to print.”
“Sure. I’ll have to make some calls, but don’t worry. I’ll get it done.”
“Thank you for doing this on such short notice.”
“No, thank you. I was really hoping I could still be involved with the revue somehow.”
“In case you didn’t figure it out, this also means you can have your internship back.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Violet said. “What kind of boss lets a teenage mother work for no pay and no college credit?”
“You joke, but I know it’s really because you love me,” April teased.
When they hung up, Violet realized how much she’d missed April in the weeks she’d been away. Not just her head for numbers and way with technology, but also her friendship.
On Wednesday, the day before the revue, the store was busier than usual. The line for the checkout counter stretched from wall to wall, with people waiting to purchase outfits to wear to the show. Violet should have been ecstatic about the constant stream of sales, but she felt on edge as she stood behind the counter ringing up customers. Every time she saw a male figure on the sidewalk outside, her heart pounded and her body froze. The police still hadn’t found Jed, and as the days went by, she was starting to lose hope that they ever would.
As Violet rang up customers’ purchases, she reminded them to come to the show and bring a friend or two. When the line finally died down, she noticed a blond boy she didn’t recognize standing inside the doorway of the store, shifting his feet in his leather flip-flops. He looked no older than twenty-one or twenty-two.
Violet walked over to him. “May I help you with something?”
The boy gave her an apologetic smile and said, “My name’s Charlie Cabot. I’m actually looking for April.”
Violet surveyed his pastel polo shirt, crisp khaki shorts, and tanned skin. The only way he could have looked more like the picture she had of him in her imagination would have been if he were carrying a tennis racket.
“April’s not here right now.” Violet wasn’t sure how much to reveal to him. She knew that if her own ex showed up at her workplace asking questions about her whereabouts, she wouldn’t want him to walk away with any information. Unfortunately, Jed knew all too well where Violet worked.
“When do you expect her in next?” Charlie asked.
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that.” Violet thought quickly for an excuse. “It’s our store policy not to give out employees’ personal information.” She figured it wasn’t exactly a lie. It was a good idea and probably a policy she should implement.
“Can I maybe talk to you about something?” he asked.
“Sure, let’s have a seat.”
They sat down in the orange lounge ch
airs, and Charlie leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.
“I don’t know how much April told you, but I guess you probably think I’m a pretty shitty human being,” he said.
Violet didn’t say anything, so Charlie continued. “I know I am. I made a mistake. I let my parents make my decisions for me instead of doing what I knew was right—and what I wanted to do.”
Violet leaned back in her chair. “Why are you telling me this? You should tell April.”
“I’ve tried. I’ve been calling her and e-mailing her all summer, but she’s been shutting me out. I even went to her house once and rang the doorbell, but no one answered, and I felt kind of stalker-ish just lurking outside her door, so I left. My aunt told me April was working here. I guess she came here when she was in town for my graduation party.”
“It sounds like April doesn’t want to talk to you, though.” Violet had just met Charlie, but she could tell from the look on his face that he was hurting.
“That’s why I need your help,” Charlie said. “I just need to talk to her once, so I can tell her I want to be with her and the baby. If, after I’ve had a chance to apologize, she still doesn’t want to be with me, then fine. I’ll back off, and maybe we can work something out so I can have time with the baby. But I need to at least try to get her back. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t give it a shot.”
“That’s no small feat. Especially since she won’t even talk to you.”
“I know,” said Charlie. “But I’m up for it.”
The earnestness in Charlie’s eyes dissipated some of the distrust Violet had been feeling.
“Do you think you can help me?” he asked.
“How?”
“Well, since she won’t pick up her phone or return my e-mails, it has to be something big. Something really special, like in the movies. You know, like in Once, when that guy buys his girl a piano. Or in Love Actually when that British dude learns Portuguese so he can ask his housekeeper to marry him.”
“You’ve seen Love Actually?”
Charlie’s face turned red. “April made me watch it.”
“Well, I don’t have any connections to people who can teach you Portuguese, sorry,” Violet said. “And I don’t think April knows how to play the piano.”
“It doesn’t have to be that, exactly. It just needs to be something she would love, something that would surprise her.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. See, that’s where I need you. I’m a science guy. I’m no good at creative stuff.”
Violet knew April and Charlie’s relationship, or lack thereof, was none of her business. She also knew that April had guarded herself against him for the last few months and that his efforts would probably be rebuffed. Still, she’d always been a romantic, and she knew how hard it was to find someone to care for, someone to count on. If April and Charlie had even a chance at achieving that, she wanted to help.
“Well,” she said, “give me a few days to think about it. The store is putting on a big fashion show in a few days, so I probably won’t be able to get back to you until after that. I’ll try to come up with a few ideas to give you a place to start, but it still needs to be your thing. You’re the one who needs to win her over, not me. And if your plan flops, I don’t want to be blamed for it.”
“I won’t, don’t worry,” he said. “Hey, the show you’re talking about, is that the one I keep seeing posters for? The Hourglass Revue?”
As soon as she mentioned it, Violet felt a pang of regret. She knew what Charlie was thinking—that April would be there. Now he would probably show up, with the hopes of seeing her. And Violet wasn’t sure April would be happy about that.
Violet didn’t know why, but the Majestic Theatre seemed bigger on Thursday evening than it had during the auditions and rehearsals. The stage—framed in gilt and red plasterwork—looked so official, so professional. As the hours crept closer to curtain time, Violet grew more and more anxious, wondering what she had gotten herself into. What if the place was empty? What if she didn’t make enough money from the auction even to cover the rental fee for the theater?
As if Violet weren’t stressed enough, some of the drag queens and more demanding women in the cast kept coming up to her and asking ridiculous questions like, “Are you sure ‘I Believe in Miracles’ is the right music for when I walk down the runway?” or “Can I be moved up sooner in the lineup?”
Lane did her best to handle all the cast-related questions, but some of the models’ complaints still overflowed to Violet. While Violet ran around making sure that everyone knew where they were supposed to be and what they needed to do, Amithi took care of last-minute wardrobe mishaps backstage.
When April arrived with a box full of programs, Violet felt a wave of relief. “Oh, thank God. Another pair of hands. How were things at the store this afternoon?” She hugged April.
“It was a pretty good afternoon,” April said. “We made a ton of sales. Everyone was asking about the revue tonight, and some people were even shopping for outfits to wear to it. I think we’re going to have a lot of people.”
“I hope so.” Violet pulled back. “I was too distracted earlier to notice that you’ve gotten bigger in the last couple of weeks. In a good way, I mean. I hope I look half as cute as you if I ever get pregnant, which is a big ‘if.’”
Violet didn’t mention how much she’d been wrestling with that question ever since Sam told her he didn’t want kids. She had way too much to worry about with the revue to delve into such a complicated decision, so she’d been trying not to think about it.
“I feel huge, but thanks.” April patted her belly. “So what can I do to help?”
“The theater crew set up some tables in the back for the silent auction. Do you think you could arrange all the bidding forms and the raffle stuff?”
“Are the auction items actually going to be on the tables? You know, the clothes and things?”
“Yep,” Violet said. “The girls—and queens—have been instructed to bring their wardrobe items back there after they’ve changed and to place them in the same order they came down the runway. If you could set up some numbered signs or something, so they know where the items are supposed to go, it will make your life easier later, so you don’t have to answer a thousand questions.”
“Sounds good. What time do the doors open?”
“Eight.”
“I’d better get working, then.”
As April walked toward the auction tables, Violet noticed that her gait was slower and more deliberate than it had been a few weeks ago. She imagined it was getting difficult for her to move around.
Amithi came rushing up the middle aisle wearing a sari. A round, red bindi sparkled on her forehead. A younger version of herself trailed behind her.
“Violet, I would like you to meet my daughter, Jayana.” Amithi gestured toward the girl, who looked to be in her early thirties and had the same dark hair and vivid eyes as Amithi. That was where the similarities ended, though. Jayana wore jeans and a tank top, with no jewelry except for a plain gold wedding band.
“Nice to meet you. My mom talks about you all the time,” Jayana said. “I can’t believe you got her to help you with this.”
“She’s a talented seamstress,” Violet said. “I couldn’t have gotten all the clothing ready for the show without her.”
“I guess I just never pictured my mom sewing drag queens into their bustiers.” Jayana turned to Violet. “I don’t get it. My mom freaked out about me not wanting an Indian wedding, but she has no problem with gender ambiguity.”
“They are nice people, those drag queens. They make me laugh.” Amithi’s smile lit up her whole face, so that the red circle on her forehead was the rising sun and her cheeks were round hills bathed in pink light.
“I haven’t seen you in a sari since the day you first came into the shop,” Violet said.
“I couldn’t imagine a big event like this without one.”
Amithi’s face turned serious. “Fine, but have you seen the man who is supposed to be running the lights and the sound system? Shouldn’t there be some kind of testing going on?”
“What?” Violet felt panic rise in her chest. “The tech guy should have been here hours ago. He’s not backstage?”
Amithi shook her head. “I thought he would be out here.”
Violet balled up her fists. “Fuck.” Then she realized that the elegant and composed Amithi would never say such a thing and added, “Sorry.”
“No, you’re right,” Amithi said. “Fuck.”
Jayana giggled, then said, “I know it’s not funny, but it’s just that I’ve never heard my mom swear. Okay, so what can we do? Do you have the tech guy’s number?”
Violet dug her phone out of the pocket of her red, bubble-hemmed dress—something she’d found in the store’s collection of 1980s prom dresses. Amithi had added the pockets for her. “I’ll call him,” she said. “But we only have forty-five minutes before the doors open, and an hour and fifteen before the curtain goes up. We need a backup plan in case he can’t get here. Do you know anybody else who knows how to do sound and lights for a theater?”
Jayana and Amithi stared back at her with blank expressions.
“Maybe Lane knows someone,” Amithi said.
“Good idea. Will you go talk to her while I make this call? And, Jayana, see that blond girl over by the tables?” Violet pointed at April.
Jayana nodded.
“Would you go ask her if she’s seen the tech guy and, if not, if she knows anyone who can help us out?”
“Sure.”
While Jayana hurried over to April, Violet dialed the number she had for the guy she’d hired to do the sound and lights. As the phone rang and rang, she chided herself for not having gone with the theater’s recommendation of whom to use. Instead, she’d hired a student to save a few bucks. She should have known that, like buying a vintage Burberry trench coat, sometimes it was better to spend a little more for the real deal.
Violet left an angry voice mail for the student. She stuck her phone back in her pocket and saw Lane, looking glamorous in a black shift dress, running across the stage. Her silver flats tapped against the wood floors, and to Violet’s amazement, she jumped off the stage’s edge instead of taking the stairs.