Michael gives me an insistent look, and I try to rein in my enthusiasm, but my heart skips. “Her backer is an old-money guy from California,” he says. “The only competition is some flaky nephew of the owner. Things look good.”

I nod to myself, thinking of Jane. At the very least, scheduling should get back to normal. “Is there a timeline?”

“If all goes well, they’ll be closing the end of next month. She also wants to renovate, but that timeline is a bit looser.”

The word “renovate” has me tracing the outside of my left hand, feeling for the calluses along my pinky. Three years away from the drafting table has softened them, but traces of the tougher skin remain. I glance down, half expecting to see the smears of graphite that were as much a part of me then as corsets and false eyelashes are now.

My attention lands on the faint white scar on my palm, and I come back to myself with a start. “Thank you for the scoop.” I hold out my hands and splay my fingers. “Sir?”

Michael fetches a quintet of champagne flutes. He wedges three into my right hand, two into my left, then nestles the bottle between that thumb and forefinger. “Got it?”

“You can take the climber outta Colorado but you can’t take away her grip.”

“Noted. Have a good show. And not a word to the others,” he warns. “They’ll swarm Andrea and she’s already stressed enough. I can’t guarantee she’ll be in a charitable mood.”

I sneak another look at Andrea, still at the end of the bar. She frowns at something on the page, then takes a long pull from her martini.

“You’re the bartender,” I reply, and raise the bottle of prosecco. “Charitable moods are your job, no?”

CHAPTER

2

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Johnny calls. The band begins a sax-heavy rendition of “Harlem Nocturne,” sending my butterflies into flight. “Beautiful people of all identities, show some love for Ming DyNasty.”

The spotlight shifts to illuminate Ming, who’s tracing lazy circles over the top of the green egg with a gloved finger. She’s a vision in crimson, from her towering showgirl headdress to the boa on her shoulders and the gauzy robe over her gown. From my spot a few steps below, I inventory the pieces to look for when I’m picking up after her set—seven, depending on whether she takes the boa when she leaves the stage.