“Darlene’s brother owns the bar,” Jane explains, switching from pushing to tugging. “Their grandfather had a ton of memorabilia, and they’ve been all over the Eastern Seaboard for the rest. Tonight’s show is the kickoff for the bar’s opening weekend.”

I nod, still agog. The show’s title is Red, White, and Boobs. I was prepared for something patriotic, but this is next-level.

Jane gets me to the far end of the bar, where Ming waves to us from beside an oversized Uncle Sam I Want YOU! army recruitment poster. She’s dressed in a navy blue onesie, a red kerchief in her hair à la Rosie the Riveter, though the way her jumpsuit is unbuttoned to expose the center of her coordinating polka-dotted bra is more in keeping with the “and Boobs” element of the evening.

“Would you get a load of this place?” She points up, one arm hugging Jane. “It has a freaking plane!”

I get a hug, too. When she releases me, I fold my hands in prayer. “Is there any way I can get a rush on the dress I brought you last week? That party for my day job is this weekend and I found incentive to step it up.”

Ming’s smile turns knowing, and she flicks the little tie at my bust. “Does this incentive have a name?”

“Our Kitten is on her second outing of the evening.” Jane pats me on the shoulder. Between my texts on the subway ride and our conversation after we met up at the station, Jane is well informed of Wickham’s many redeeming qualities. He couldn’t believe how thoroughly I’d spilled my guts to the guy. “He has my approval,” Jane said. “Anyone who cracks you open on the first go has to be worthy.”

I wiggle my eyebrows, and Ming cackles.

“I’m close to done, anyway,” she says.

“Thank you! Seal the deal with a beverage?”

She gestures to the bar. “Obviously.”

I raise my hand for the bartender’s attention. Ming orders a beer and I get a cherry Coke, still feeling the effects from drinks with my “incentive.”

Jane declines. “I’m gonna go warm up.” He tips his hat, a new fedora he’s wearing to cover his stitches. It’s one of four he and Charles—which is to say, Charles—splurged on after this morning’s checkup.

Ming nods toward Jane, who disappears through the curtains at stage right. “So. Thor’s backing Andrea’s bid for the building.” She doesn’t bother to phrase it as a question.

“Yup.”

“Hm.” Ming takes a pull from her beer. “The god of thunder was at your place when I checked on Jane earlier. Jane was totally gaga. Showing off his new hats, blasting Madonna. I haven’t seen him like that since he was with Marcus.” She smiles, but it doesn’t meet her eyes.

“What’s up?”