Vintage (25 page)

“I didn’t see a list,” said one of the younger models.

“I’m gonna speak for myself here,” said the man—Violet’s hairdresser, in fact—who’d soon be transforming into the vivacious Ivanna Martini and would be emceeing the show. “But I’m pretty sure I’ll need some things that aren’t on that list that I don’t really want to discuss in mixed company, if you know what I mean.”

The other men onstage piped up. Some of them wore street clothes and some had shown up at the rehearsal already in drag.

Violet held up her hands. “Okay, okay. What I meant was that the list has everything on it
from the store
that we want you to wear. But obviously you need to bring your own undergarments and nylons and what have you. You are welcome to add whatever, um, enhancements you need to make yourself look beautiful on the big day.”

This seemed to clarify things, because several of the models onstage nodded.

One of the curvier women, a thirtysomething burlesque dancer, said, “Thank God, because I need my corset and my Spanx.”

“Oh, I’ll give you Spanx, honey, don’t you worry,” said the man next to her. He was wearing what Violet thought of as “half drag”—false eyelashes and a wig, but jeans and a button-down oxford with the sleeves rolled up. He whacked the burlesque dancer on her round backside and she giggled.

“Where did you find a corset?” one of the other girls asked. “I’ve been looking for one, too.”

“We have some in the shop if anyone needs one,” Violet said. “And don’t worry, they’re new, not used, but they’re made specially to go under vintage garments. Does anyone have any more questions on wardrobe?” When no one spoke up, she continued. “All right, so you all have about half an hour to get backstage and get in costume, and then we’ll do the run-through. Ready? Go.”

The models scattered off the stage.

Amithi turned to Violet and said, “Did I tell you my daughter and her husband are coming to the revue? I’ve been staying with them for the past few weeks.”

“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 chairs, 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.

V
iolet 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?”