“Can I help you?” she says, pausing at the mouth of the hall a few feet away.
I take her in: raven hair, long locks not sacrificed to that blunt-bobbed style all the dames are wearing. Rail-thin frame, almond-shaped eyes that stay locked on the empty glass of shine in my hand. She’s got a decent-sized basket resting on her hip.
“I’m looking for a friend, Howie Matthews. I was told he was here.” I hold the glass up as evidence. “I’m thinking this is his?”
“You’re thinking right.” She gives me a smirk. “He’s in the john, giving a shine-induced sermon to the wall on the meaning of life. You can hear him from the hallway if you’re after free advice.”
“Christ.” I turn Howie’s empty shot glass around in my hand. Having Howie high as a kite the night I meet his cousin was not the plan. Having him shot to another planet does nothing to help work Win Matthews over for me. “You know about how long ago he took this, by chance?”
She shrugs. “Maybe twenty minutes.” Then she studies me the way I was studying her. “You need a shot of shine yourself, sir? We try to keep a few extra ounces of the stuff around for the Shaws and their guests, from the previous night’s performance. And sorcerer’s shine only lasts a day—”
“No thanks, I’m set.” Remembering my manners, I put the glass back on the table and rush toward her. “Sorry, let me help you with that—”
“It’s okay, it’s my job.” She shakes me off, a note of pride in her voice. “Besides, it’s light as a feather.” She tips the basket toward me as evidence. Inside are hundreds of white feathers. “Literally.”
I smile. I guess she’s some sort of stagehand. “So you work here?”
“Nah, I just like to wander off the street sometimes. Smuggle out random props.”
I laugh. Quick, as well as cute. And more than cute, I realize, as I study her again. Pretty damn breathtaking. I find myself flustered for a minute, all my old come-ons stalling out. It’s been a while. “And how’s that working out for you?” I try to recover. “Tricking sorcerers?”
“It’s working out just fine.”
“Maybe they’re just tricking you into thinking that.”
As she laughs, I glance back to the door, wonder when Win’s going to arrive. I need to get Howie, run him under cold water, slap him sober. “What’s your name?”
There’s a rumble of noise from the back of the performance space. Two middle-aged chaps roll a cart loaded with glass bottles to the base of the stage, which spans the entire back wall. They clamber up the stairs to the stage and call down, “Hey, Joan, Grace is looking for you. Something about the right dress?”
“I’m coming!” the girl answers, then mutters to herself, “Lord, that woman is obsessed with details.”
“Joan,” I repeat to her, with a smile.
“Look at you, putting two and two together.” Joan gives me another smirk as she steps by me, and places her basket of feathers down in the center of one of those little performance stages near the front. Then she flits past me again on her way to the back stage. “Good luck with your friend, Alex Danfrey.”
I hurry down the dim, windowless hall studded with a few wall lanterns, stop in front of the door marked GENTLEMEN, and step inside. Like Joan promised, Howie’s standing at the sink, arms outstretched, pupils tiny pinpricks, smile as wide as the Potomac River. He sees me in the reflection of the mirror, and his smile breaks even wider. He turns around with a flourish.
“Alex Danfrey!” he announces loudly to the bathroom stalls. “Get the hell over here.” Howie wraps me in a full body hug, holds the shaky embrace one, two, three seconds too long.
“So you’re already all shined up?” I pull away and fake a smile.
“Shiny as a freaking new penny, man,” he whispers.
“And that’s the best idea, when we’re about to meet Win and get started?” I put my hand on his shoulder, keep on my forced, hollow smile.
“A trip like this is always a good idea.” He closes his eyes. “We’ll work hard, play hard. Every night, Danfrey, we’re going to be partying here until dawn.”
I take a deep breath. This will work out. Howie has to be coming down soon, shine’s high doesn’t last more than an hour. “Why don’t we go wait outside for Win? Don’t think your cousin wants to meet us in the john.”
As I push Howie out the door, he gushes, “I swear, brother, you need to try this shine now. Your eyes—they’re like, two radiant beams of light.”
I lead him into the hallway. “I think you’re beyond shined, How.”