by Sara Hooper
Alice’s first instinct was to take offense. Who was he to order her around? But it wasn’t a demand; it was a request. Still, she hesitated.
“Just want to talk some first,” he said. “And don’t you want to be comfortable?”
She did. More than anything. Alice drank again and sat far from him on very edge of the bed.
Peter settled back against the pillows and smiled at her. “Is that comfortable?”
“I’m good,” she said.
“Suit yourself. Did you like my sad tale of idiots in charge and the tyke from hell?”
Alice lightly laughed. “Explains a lot,” she said.
He flashed her a smile over his glass. “Now I think it’s time for you to shed a few secrets. “Give me some days in the life of Alice Rogers.”
“What do you want to know?” she asked.
“Vermont. Tell me about Vermont.”
She looked away from him and into the dark bubbles slowly popping away in her glass. “It’s cold.”
“So I’ve heard. And felt.”
He had been there right before they met, but their paths had never crossed.
“It’s… home.”
“And home is where the heart is, right?”
A little clichéd? Sure. But Alice had never been of the opinion that he was an original. Why back away from that assumption now?
“Right,” she said.
“And who’s in your heart?”
Her mother. Naturally. Evelyn and Lenore. The girls from dance class. Her friends from school. Basically everyone she had ever known. But Peter said he only wanted a few days from her life.
“My mom,” Alice condensed.
“Okay. What’s she like?”
“She’s…she’s strong. She had to be.”
“Why was that?”
Alice felt that she should be more uneasy in the face of his line of questioning. What Peter was asking her to share trumped anything he had revealed. Yet, it was nothing to be ashamed of, and Alice pushed aside any doubt to answer. “Because it was just the two of us. I never knew my dad.”
Peter emptied his glass and turned it around and around in his hand. “Something happen to him?”
“Something sure did.” Something translated into a woman that her mother only ever referred to as Hair and Nails. On the few occasions when she dared to elaborate, it became apparent to Alice that those weren’t the mystery woman’s only assets.
“So total deadbeat?” Peter asked.
“You got it. But whatever, you know. My mom was great. I actually…” She stopped herself in her tracks before stating what she thought would strike him as disgustingly obvious. Alice did want to win for herself because she wanted the fame and the chance for something more. But she also wanted her mother to have a shot at the things that she’d always denied herself so that Alice didn’t have to go without.
“You were saying?” he pressed.
“Nothing. Just that my mom’s awesome.”
“I’ve heard similar stories.”
It was glaringly obvious to Alice that he lacked firsthand knowledge of anything even remotely connected to motherly love.
“Peter?”
He was on his feet and started to fix himself another drink. There was no more rum, so he did vodka, straight. Peter sat next to Alice on the edge of the bed.
She made no move to put any distance between them.
“Must be nice,” he mumbled.
“What must?”
“Making someone proud.”
“Come on. I’m sure someone’s proud of you.”
“Let’s see.” He finished the vodka. “Dad’s dead, mom’s in the pokey, and I ain’t got no one else.” He said it like it was the most natural state of being.
Alice realized that it was just that for him and Peter was just numb to the whole thing.
“Have you ever…?”
“Hey! What’s this?” He stroked the skin just under her eye and wiped a tear away.
Alice hadn’t even realized that she was crying. “Nothing.”
Peter wrapped his arm around her neck and pressed his head to hers. She could smell the vodka and rum mixing with the heat from his mouth.
“It’s okay, Alice. Believe me.”
She did. Somehow that made it worse. “Please tell me you had someone some time?”
He lowered his eyes. Alice kept her gaze on his face. She watched for any curl of his lip or arch of his eyebrow. There was, there had to be, a memory of someone. Or was he too jaded to ever open his heart…
“Once. For a while.” Peter closed his eyes and stayed locked inside himself as he spoke. “I wanted her, she wanted more.”
Alice could barely breathe as his eyes opened again.
He smiled, sadly. “And who can blame her, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Would you want to be a comic’s wife? Always either on the road or waiting alone for him to come home?”
Alice gave it a second of serious thought, and she knew that she wanted to be honest with him. “I think I’d be okay with it,” she said. “Think I might even like it.”
Peter fell away from her with a laugh and stretched his arms above his head. “Brave woman. Well, she sure wasn’t down with it.”
Alice shifted her position to his side and rolled on her back. She could feel his eyes turn to her, but she kept all of her attention on the ceiling. “Her loss.”
Peter nudged her with his elbow. She smiled but still did not look at him. “You want to hear the punch line?”
She murmured softly and nodded.
“She ended it up with an accountant.”
Their eyes met again, and Alice raised her eyebrow.
“Oh, Peter. That’s not funny. That’s tragic.” Alice broke into a smile that quickly morphed into a laugh. Peter was instantly in on the joke, and curled his hands behind his head with a sigh.
“Thanks,” he said. “I needed that.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“This,” she said. “I’m glad we talked. Feels nice. Feels like---”
“Like a team, right?”
Alice nodded. She wanted to touch his face but Peter was suddenly on his feet. He started pacing the room.
“So, how are going to play this?”
He wanted to focus on the act. Alice had to believe that his shared secrets and effort to learn more about her was in service of that alone. She wanted to win, too. Yet, a few drinks and the briefest of thoughts of being paired with him on a somewhat more permanent basis had her imagining other victories. She had to figuratively slap herself. One tender exchange did not eradicate her real reason for being alone with him in her hotel room.
It was still a competition. Alice had to remember that..
Alice sat up and stared at him with a smile. Now was also not the time for another argument. “I’m not sure.”
“Seriously? You have no ideas?” he gently teased.
“I wouldn’t say that exactly.”
Peter freshened both their drinks.
“You’ll take this straight?” he asked as he held more vodka above her glass. Alice accepted but resolved to drink it down slowly. The last thing she needed was to get too drunk to strategize.
He sat across from her on Darlene’s messy bed. “Okay. So what would you say?”
She took the smallest of sips. “Do you do anything… physical?” she asked.
“What do you have in mind?” he asked with a wink.
Alice grabbed the pillow where her head had just rested and gently swatted his knee. “We’re talking about the act, right?”
“Absolutely. I’m all ears.”
“Physical. Like…I don’t know what you call it. Oh you know.”
He leaned towards her with a mocking kind of intensity. “Enlighten me.”
She moaned and fell back against the bed. “You know. Pretending you’re trying to do… something.”
“Like hail a cab?�
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Alice shot up and looked at him sheepishly. “I am sorry for that. I don’t know how many times…”
“Forgiven. I’ll drop it.”
She was beyond relieved. Their first encounter wasn’t her. This was the real Alice, the one who would win but not at any cost. Something about that realization relieved her.
“Good. Now I’m talking about… it’s when a comic slips and falls…”
“It’s called a pratfall.”
“Okay. Great! Do you do them?”
“Absolutely not. Cheap way to get a laugh. Come on, Alice.”
“Okay, okay. But maybe I can.”
“You?”
“Think about it! You can tell some a story or…or something. I can make clumsy look graceful and then… wow.”
Peter appeared deep in thought. The more she rolled it around in her mind, it seemed like it could actually work! Alice had a vision of falling and rising to a single drum beat while Peter regaled the crowd with a litany of complaints against a woman standing him up at a bar, and Alice would interpret all the possible reasons that she might be late through the power of dance. She could even put her shoes on the wrong feet to heighten the stakes and enhance their standing with the voters.
“No,” Peter finally said.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t want you looking foolish.”
Alice was truly shocked, and she forgot her resolution to forego arguing with him. “Come on! You’ve had no problem with it so far.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“Because now you’re on my side.”
It was kind of sweet. Alice was willing to do anything for the act. She knew he felt the same way, but more jokes at her expense were no longer on his agenda. “Okay.”
Alice searched her mind for another idea. It had to be something that would flatter them both. Suddenly, she had it. “I’ll strip,” she declared.
For the first time since they had met, Peter was speechless.
Alice jumped up from the bed and started removing her clothing. First she lost her button down blouse, then the jeans. Only her blue bra and panties stood between Peter’s eyes and all of her ebony flesh. “Like the view?” she teased.
He swallowed and recovered his voice. “Um… yeah. Yes. But this is primetime, Alice.”
Alice laughed as she playfully snapped the elastic about her taut waist. “I know, Peter. We’ll keep it very Gypsy.”
Peter looked at her like she had lapsed into Latin.
“The stripper? The musical? Her gimmick was that she never really showed everything. It was a tease.”
“Oh. I get it. I guess. But what am I supposed to do?”
That was a good question and one that needed answering. Professional that he was, Alice had to consider the possibility of him losing his place in the routine if she kept losing more and more of her clothing under the hot lights of the main stage. He wouldn’t want to joke about her body, and as she saw his eyes running up and down her bare legs, she was fairly certain that he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Alice sighed and started to pull up her jeans. She caught a trace of disappointment wash over his face as her legs left his view.
“I’ve got it!” she cried out as she fell before him and grabbed his knees.
Peter was roused as if from a daydream. Flattering as that was, they had work to do. “Got… what?” he stuttered.
“We’ll do it in reverse!”
It’s Showtime
Show night was disastrous for some. Ella Miles and Randy’s Rovers tried their hand with Ella covering “Disturbia,” off key, while the terriers jumped through hoops. The dogs’ movements were completely out of sync with Ella’s vocals.
“Uh, judges?” The Shark asked.
“I don’t know what that was,” Wesley snapped.
Arnold quickly concurred. “It was like Ella’s doing her thing, the pups are doing theirs, how is that a new act? On what planet is that a new act?”
Randy took the criticism like the obedient dogs he had trained so well. Ella cried and even had the gall to blast the judges for shaking things up. In the wings, Peter held Alice and her newly shorn hair as
Ella was crashing big time.
“Young lady,” Wesley said. “I advise you to keep your opinions to yourself. This is a business where you don’t get a choice. You just need to make it work.”
Ella stomped off the stage before The Shark could remind the home audience of the digits required to send votes her way. The crowd in the theater gasped and muttered to one another. After The Shark did his thing, Randy and the dogs exited stage left with their tails between their legs.
Darlene consumed a tub of oysters to the strains of Beethoven’s Fifth. Unlike the dogs, Darlene moved with the music.
“Really fun,” Arnold said. “I would pay to see that again and again. This is a novelty act.”
The musicians slapped Darlene’s back as she wiped her mouth with a hand towel.
“I agree,” Leticia said as Darlene caught her fishy breath. “But it’s still two separate acts. I have to say that I expected a bit more.”
Darlene and her gang deflated some as The Shark told the crowd at home just what to do if they wanted to see her again.
“Maybe your friend should have expanded her menu,” Peter said.
Alice glared up at him. “What? Like you’re not a little glad. Things just keep looking up for us. She’s my friend, Peter.”
“And you’re my partner. I’m looking out for you.”
Alice smiled at Darlene as she left the stage, but the competitive eater was already shaking her head.
“I should’ve gone with the cupcakes.”
Porter Cole and Louis and Mortimer were next. And they were totally in sync. Mortimer sang “You Gotta Have a Gimmick.”
Alice nervously elbowed Peter at the irony. “This is from “Gypsy!” What did you tell them?”
Peter held up his hands. “Not a word. Coincidence.”
When it came to the parts of the song where actresses playing strippers would show off their stunts, Porter Cole rapped about the tricks employed by the government to keep the working man down.
Alice locked eyes with Peter again.
“Come on, Alice. Porter’s whole shtick is show tunes. And you were the one that said it had the best book of any musical ever.”
She listened as the crowd cheered and the judges applauded the first true act of the night. Porter high-fived Mortimer and tousled Louis’ hair as they exited the stage exuberantly. They were too high on the sound of victory to pay Alice and Peter any mind.
“Next up, Peter and Alice!”
Alice felt her legs start to shake as Peter took her hand. She was frozen where she stood. Peter turned back and placed his free hand on her cheek. “Alice?”
Why couldn’t they have followed the dogs? Alice had the feeling that they were going to let the audience down. What was worse, she was going to let the act down.
“Peter, I can’t…”
“Too late for that now. Come on, my lady.”
He guided her to center stage. There was a mike and a simple trunk. Alice looked out over the lights. For a second she felt that she would drown in the sea of faces. She needed something to focus on. Peter was at her side. He smiled with a nod.
Fears couldn’t matter. They were here, and a lone drummer started pounding out a beat. It was the one thing that had made it to show night from Alice’s original idea.
She removed the robe to reveal her slender fame clad in a white lace bra and panties. The hoots from the audience worked like a tonic on Alice’s nerves. They hadn’t even started, but people already liked what they were seeing.
Peter winked at her and launched into his routine. “I got this girl,” he started. “Great girl. Smoking hot chick. Or is it just me?”
More cheers poured forth from the audience. Alice drank in the noise and quickly extended her leg then brought it back down for a 180 sp
in. If the crowd was to be believed, and Alice was growing more and more certain that they were, the view of her back impressed as much if not more than her front. She popped her hip and waited for Peter to continue.
“Tomorrow’s her birthday.”
She twirled forward and dipped her hands into the trunk. Kicking the lid off, she reached within and pulled out a green tank top. After slipping it over her head, Alice jumped over the trunk and fell into a split. Then she folded her arms and glared up at him.
“I mean…today?”
Alice leapt up and to her feet then fell to her hands. She extended her body over the trunk. When she made it to the other side, she went down and quickly reappeared with a short denim jacket. She stretched her arms into the sleeves and moved around to his other side.
“Then when?”
She spun away from him. Her leg came up in a wide kick that came perilously close to his face. Despite Peter’s claims that he couldn’t do anything physical, he backed away to avoid the blow. Alice could hear the audience chuckling, but it was far from the uproarious laughter that she knew they needed to make their mark.
Now it was Peter’s turn to riff while she smoothed her hands though her shortened hair and flexed and pointed to each tap from the drum.
“Why is she so hung up on this? It’s not like she’s five. I can get her a cake and a card any day of the year. How does my inability to recall this exact date make any real difference? You know what?”
It was Alice’s cue. She slinked back to the trunk, arching her back with each step. Then she waited.
“It makes no difference. So she’s a little steamed. I can take a little sulking. I mean, what’s the worst thing that she can do?”
Alice reached into the trunk one last time and pulled out a wraparound skirt. She moved back to him and pressed him to his knees with the palm of her hand. Then she wrapped the skirt around all that she would deny him for the forgotten birthday. Peter slammed the mike against his brow as the drumbeat ceased.
The crowd applauded. It wasn’t what Porter and Louis had received, but the judges’ comments made up the difference.
“What I liked about this,” Wesley said, “was that it told a story. We didn’t expect Peter to dance or Alice to suddenly transform into Ellen. But you met in the middle and did something clever. Nice job, guys.”