Read Fallen Angel (Club Burlesque) Online

Authors: Logan Belle

Fallen Angel (Club Burlesque) (12 page)

BOOK: Fallen Angel (Club Burlesque)

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She was taken aback. Gavin had no idea that she had lost all interest in a legal career—that the firm was just a way to pay the bills while she established her real career, the career that had become central to her identity and to her relationship.

“I think I drank too much wine to talk shop,” she said, and it was true. Her thinking was slow and fuzzy, and she was smiling for no reason.

“Fair enough,” he said, returning her smile. She let her head drop back against the leather seat, wishing it was the summer so Gavin could put the convertible top down. But even in the dark, in the closed car, with the late October chill, she felt lighthearted, warm, and more carefree than she could remember in a long time. And she realized that while Alec made her feel sexy, Gavin made her feel like a lady.

And she liked it.

T
he following night, almost exactly twenty-four hours later, Mallory stood outside of the Blue Angel, trying, without success, to psyche herself up for the show.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so lackluster on the night of a performance. She hated to admit it, but it probably had something to do with the fact that she had almost never done a performance without Alec at the club. He was her primary audience of one, the person who inspired most of what she explored and expressed in her act, and the person she trusted to give her feedback on her performances.

But tonight he would not be there.

And she was confused by how much she had enjoyed Gavin’s company last night. When she didn’t see him at work all day because he was in court, she was disappointed. It made her think that her misstep the night at the Plaza—and maybe all of her arguments with Alec over the past year or so—had happened for a reason. It wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t his fault. This was what happened when people tried to stretch a college romance into the real world.

She spotted Poppy strolling down the street, her mile-long legs impossible to miss.

“Hey,” Mallory said.

“Why are you standing out here?”

“Just, you know, psyching myself up for the show.”

“Oh.” Poppy put her hand on the door and then hesitated, turning back to Mallory. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You and Alec have been in a long-term thing, right?”

“Well, yeah. Although now probably isn’t the best time to be asking me about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Ignore me. Go on.”

“Okay, well, in all the time you guys have been together, did the sex ever get kind of boring? Like, routine?”

“No,” Mallory said, without hesitation.

“Never?”

“No. Why? What’s going on? Are you and Patricia having problems?” She really didn’t want to hear about her the sex life of her former boss, Patricia Loomis, but Poppy was clearly in distress.

“Yes. I mean—no. We’re not fighting if that’s what you mean. But I don’t feel attracted to her anymore. The sex is always the same. It was good in the beginning but now it’s . . .”

“Too predictable?”

“Yes, that. But also . . . sometimes I’m attracted to other people.”

Mallory sighed. “I think it’s normal. I mean, I see people I’m attracted to. But when you’re in a good relationship, you make the conscious decision not to act on that feeling. But those feelings never stop just because you’re in a committed relationship.” Poppy was visibly pained. “Is it someone in particular?”

“Yes. And no. There’s someone, and I’m going to try not to see her anymore—I know she’s bad news. But more than that, I still keep thinking about Bette.”

“Oh, Poppy. You have to let that go. Bette is in a whole other world right now. And she’s in love with Zebra.”

“I know, I know. It’s ridiculous. I just had to . . . say it aloud. Maybe that will help me let it go.”

“Yeah, just think of her as someone you would see in a magazine or in a movie. Not accessible. Not an option.”

“I know. You’re right.”

“But if you’re not satisfied with Patricia, maybe you should end it. Don’t string her along.”

“I care about Patricia. Sometimes I’m even happy with her. I’m just confused.”

“Well, stay away from other women until you figure it out. You’re not going to see things more clearly by messing around.”

“Okay. I’m going to just keep reminding myself of that.” She held Mallory’s arm. “Don’t mention this to anyone.”

“Of course not.”

“Thanks, Mallory.”

“Sure,” Mallory said, checking her BlackBerry for the time. “I’m going to head in now, too.” She couldn’t procrastinate outside any longer. People would show up for tickets soon, and she didn’t want audience members to see her in her street clothes before the show. But she was dreading seeing Violet for the first time since the night at the Plaza. She was relieved to have Poppy with her.

The club was decked out in keeping with the Halloween theme, tables covered with fake cobwebs, orange glitter, and as centerpieces, silver jack-o’-lanterns glowing with votive candles. Blocks of dry ice were set at the edge of the stage to create the illusion of fog, to eerie effect. Even the small, cramped backstage area was decorated with plastic skulls and pumpkins.

Despite the festive atmosphere, Mallory was tense. She noticed that for some reason, Poppy looked uptight, too.

The dressing room was full. All the girls were there: Cat-o’-Nine-Tails, Scarlett Letter, Kitty Klitty, and, of course, Violet, who looked particular fetching, her green eyes almost glittering against her bright stage makeup.

“What character are you supposed to be?” Kitty asked her.

“Why don’t you watch me and find out,” Violet said, and Mallory could feel her eyes following her as she staked her claim on a vanity in the farthest corner of the room.

Suddenly, a scream erupted. Mallory jumped, and then realized the MC for the night, Rude Ralph, had lurched into the room wearing an executioner’s costume and thrown a fake, decapitated head onto Kitty Klitty’s lap.

“Get out!” Scarlett tossed shoes at him.

He laughed and ducked, the shoes hitting the wall.

“Hey, Violet, I need you to check the props you have out here and make sure we’re setting it up right. That thing is heavy.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Ralph bounced a rubber eyeball at Poppy.

“Eww!”

After a rousing chorus of “get the fuck out,” he left.

“Ugh. So annoying. Why isn’t Alec here tonight, Moxie?”

“He’s in LA interviewing Kendall James.”

“She’s hot,” said Violet.

Mallory focused on her makeup and costume, ignoring the bait. She was dressing as a super-sexy Snow White, in a blue corset with red bustier and custom cap sleeves with blue ruching that were reminiscent of Snow White’s traditional dress. Her ass was squeezed into yellow hot pants, under which a few inches of bare leg showed before her thigh-high white stockings began. Her favorite part of the costume was the mid-calf length white patent leather platform boots. On her head she wore a black, bobbed wig with a headband, and on her right arm she had a press-on tattoo of one of the Seven Dwarfs.

Agnes, looking weary and a bit aggravated, opened the door.

“The lineup is Violet, Poppy, Kitty, Cat, and Moxie with Scarlett.”

Mallory was doing an act together with Scarlett Letter. They were performing to the Hole song “I Think That I Would Die,” off of one of Mallory’s all-time favorite albums,
Live Through This
. In the song, Courtney Love sang with melancholy and passion about loss, and the character Rose Red was central to the chorus. To accompany the tune, Mallory and Scarlett had choreographed a dark interpretation of the Snow White and Rose Red fairy tale. As she had told Alec weeks ago, they needed a bear on stage with them. Since Alec was gone, they had enlisted Scarlett’s boyfriend, Eric, who told them the last time he had been on a stage was his fifth grade Christmas pageant.

“We have two stage kittens tonight because of all the costumes and extra glitter and who knows what,” Agnes said. “But be careful on the stage because they might miss this or that. I don’t need any problems tonight. That’s all. Moxie, I want to speak to you outside.”

Surprised, Mallory put down her eyelash glue and followed Agnes outside, where they stood directly behind the stage curtain.

“I see you have a special guest on the list tonight.”

“Yes! Bette is here. Is that okay?”

Agnes smiled. “Yes. Tell her to come by and say hi after the show.”

Mallory felt good thinking about Bette in the audience tonight. She hadn’t forgotten that she would be there, but in all of her stress about Alec and trepidation about seeing Violet, she’d pushed the one bright spot of the night to the back of her mind. But she knew that once she was out there on stage, she’d feel the rush of knowing her mentor was there cheering her on. She could almost forget about Alec in LA, almost forget Violet’s eyes following her every move.

Her BlackBerry beeped with a text:

Sneak out and watch the first act w / us? Table in front. I’m with Martha and Justin
.

Mallory typed back:

Is there a seat? Agnes will kill me
.

To which Bette responded:

Blame it on me! We have a seat. Get your hot ass out here.

Mallory smiled and threw on a robe.

Out in the audience, she spotted Bette immediately. Even among the dark and glittering decorations, she was the most dramatic sight in the room, with her luminous pale skin, trademark black bob, and pillowy, heart-shaped lips always painted a deep, matte red. She was wearing a floor-length, red suede trench coat that must have cost a fortune. Mallory wondered if she was getting free clothes from designers now that she was being photographed everywhere with Zebra.

“Hey, beautiful,” Bette said, jumping up when she saw her. She pulled Mallory into a hug, and Mallory felt all the eyes in the room on them. She remembered the first time she was at the club—she had spotted Bette before the show and had been immediately fascinated.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mallory said. Justin Baxter and Martha Pike were at the table. “Hi! It’s great to see you guys.”

“Hi, doll,” Justin said, hugging her warmly.

The lights dimmed, and the audience settled down, a frisson of anticipation in the air. “So what’s the deal with this Violet chick?” Bette whispered.

“You’ll see for yourself. She’s opening.”

The curtain rose, and in the center of the stage was a floorto-ceiling pole. Mallory and Bette looked at each other. This was a first.

The staccato, military-style opening to the Marilyn Manson song “The Beautiful People” began, instantly changing the vibe of the room from anticipation to nervous excitement. Violet appeared, wearing a Belle mask from
Beauty and The Beast,
a black leather jacket cinched tightly at the waist, black fishnet stockings, and combat boots. Her platinum, cropped hair was covered with a long, dreadlocked wig.

She marched in place, her body rigid and almost robotic in motion. As the song picked up momentum, she unzipped the leather coat, baring her breasts, her nipples covered in skull and crossbone pasties. The crowd cheered and clapped wildly, and Mallory saw that Bette was watching the performance with rapt attention.

The chorus of the song began, and Violet jumped onto the pole, clambering up it like a dark spider. At the midway point, she released both hands, and, supporting herself with only her legs, leaned back so she was virtually lying on her back in midair. And then, to the collective disbelief of the audience, she started rotating around the pole in a complete 360 degrees.

“Oh . . . my . . . God,” Bette said.

“I thought I’d seen everything,” said Justin Baxter.

Mallory could only imagine what Agnes was thinking. She hated anything that smacked of stripper culture. To her, there was a world of difference between burlesque and the modern day strip club, and to blur the lines was the worst kind of affront to the discipline she’d built her life around.

Violet continued to wind her body around the pole, finally leaping down to tear off her fishnets, leaving her in only a thong and combat boots and the Belle mask.

“Walt Disney must be rolling over in his grave,” said Bette.

“Agnes is probably digging one for Violet,” said Mallory. Bette laughed.

At the end of the act, the audience whistled, cheered, and stomped their feet in a frenzy Mallory had rarely—if ever—heard before.

She was torn between wishing Alec were there so she could talk about it with him, and feeling competitive and relieved he hadn’t seen it. She hated how exhilarated she felt from watching the performance. She had to admit it was the most interesting thing she’d seen onstage in a long time.

It would be a hard act to follow.