“Kath.”
“Did you come from the club?” Sal asked. “How was the show tonight? I missed it.”
They talked about the Telegraph Club for a few minutes—or Kath and Sal did, while Lily sipped her drink and tried to pretend as if she went to these sorts of parties all the time. Over in the corner by the record player she saw two women laughing, one woman’s arms looped around the other’s neck as if they were about to start dancing.
“We don’t see many Orientals around here,” Sal said to Lily. “Do you speak English? Where are you from?”
Lily stiffened. “Chinatown. I was born here.”
Sal looked impressed. “You don’t even have an accent. That’s amazing.”
“I was born here,” Lily said again, a bit more sharply.
“I thought all the Orientals in Chinatown only spoke Chinese.”
“No.” She hoped that her short tone would make Sal drop it.
“Hey, Patsy,” Sal called across the room, “there’s an Oriental over here—where’d you meet that other one? Over at Blanco’s?”
Lily was grateful for the sofa then, for allowing her to sink back; if only she could sink through it to the other side, where it would hide her from their scrutiny.
Patsy turned out to be a redhead in a red-and-white-checked dress that reminded Lily of a picnic blanket. She came over and perched on the arm of Sal’s chair, while Sal’s arm snaked around her small waist. “Hello, I’m Patsy,” she said, extending her hand.
Lily sat up with some effort and shook Patsy’s hand reluctantly.
“Where was that?” Sal continued. “Blanco’s? Is that where you saw that girl?”
Patsy leaned against Sal’s shoulder. “I’ve never been to Blanco’s. That place is for Filipino dykes. What do I look like?”
Sal laughed and squeezed Patsy’s waist, causing her to squeal. “Where was it then? I swear it was recent—you said there were gay girls there.”
“The Forbidden City,” Patsy said promptly. “Have you ever been there, hon?” She looked at Lily.
“No,” Lily said again.
There was a commotion over in the dining room, and a moment later Tommy entered the living room with a martini in one hand, scanning the faces as if she were searching for someone. Tommy had taken off her tuxedo and put on gray flannel pants and a blue collared shirt with the top button undone. Of course, Lily realized, the tuxedo was a costume, and now Tommy was at home. And yet she still carried herself the same way, as if her onstage persona was barely more than a gloss over her real life.
Sal yelled, “Terry! Over here!”
Lily didn’t know who Terry was, but when Tommy saw Sal, she came over to join them, pulling over the other Chinese chair. Patsy smiled at Tommy and lifted her face for a kiss, and Tommy obliged, planting one on her cheek. “You look good, Pat,” Tommy said, and then reached over to shake Sal’s hand. “It’s been a while. Glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for the invite,” Sal said. “Sorry I can’t make it to your show tomorrow night—my budget’s kinda tight.”
Tommy shrugged and sat down, placing her martini glass on the coffee table. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. “So’s mine.”
“You could make some extra bucks with those fans of yours,” Sal said, grinning. “Remember that dame who followed you up to your dressing room?”
Tommy looked bitter. “If she figured out I’m actually a woman, she would’ve called the cops.” She shook her head. “How’re things with you?”
“Good. We were just talking about the Forbidden City, since you have an Oriental guest here.”
Sinking through the couch wasn’t enough, Lily thought. She wished she could sink all the way through to China. At least then she’d blend in.
Tommy’s eyes flickered from Sal to Lily. “Yeah, the China doll’s been to my show a few times. You like it, sweetheart?”
Lily’s face burned, and she felt Kath tense up beside her. “Of course,” she forced herself to say politely, reminding herself she was Tommy’s guest. “It’s wonderful.”
Tommy grinned. “Wonderful.” She sat back, crossing her legs, and took a deep drag on her cigarette. “You know, I heard the Forbidden City had a male impersonator once.”
“Really?” Lily said warily, but she was interested in spite of her discomfort. “When?”
“A few years back,” Tommy said. “Maybe during the war? I can’t remember, it was before my time. But I’ve heard about her—she did herself up in a suit, like Marlene Dietrich, Gladys Bentley. Not exactly the same as my gig, but I wonder what happened to her. I heard she was good.”
The praise, delivered in such an offhanded tone, curled through Lily as if Tommy had offered her a personal compliment. She couldn’t imagine a Chinese woman putting on a show like Tommy’s, but she was immediately proud of her. She wanted to ask more about her, but Lana came into the living room looking for Tommy.
“There you are—you slipped right past me,” Lana said. “Where’s the tonic?”
Tommy had to get up and go back to the kitchen, and Patsy and Sal sat quietly for a moment, smiling fixedly at Lily and Kath, before Patsy got up and took the chair that Tommy had vacated. Lily raised her glass to her mouth and realized, to her surprise, that she had finished her drink.
“Let me get you another,” Kath said.
“I don’t need another,” Lily said, but Kath didn’t appear to hear her. She stood up abruptly, causing the sofa cushion to heave like a wave, and took both of their glasses—Kath’s was empty too—off to the kitchen. Lily felt the distinct absence of Kath next to her, as if part of her own body was suddenly missing.
“How long have you two been an item?” Patsy asked after Kath left the living room.
Lily was taken aback. “Me and Kath? We’re—we’re not.”