Andrea swirls her martini. “As relieved as I am anyone was available tonight, it would have been nice if it had been Jane. No offense, luv.” She pats my hand. “Jane can also perform.”

I take another sip. I didn’t take offense in the first place, but the idea that I wouldn’t be able to contribute more to the show rubs me the wrong way and nudges against a promise I made. I have more to offer.

“I . . .” My heart lodges in my throat. This may be my one opportunity to have a design realized. I know I have the strength to ask. I just need to use it.

My airway clears. “I want to talk to you about that.”

Andrea’s smile is knowing. “I wondered when you’d get around to this. You’re the longest-running kitten we’ve had and the only one to ever content herself with the position.” She flicks her attention toward the stage. “You want to get up with the big girls?”

“Not quite. What . . . what do you and Charles have planned for renovations?”

Her smile shifts to something more curious. “It will depend on the final number, whatever the purchase agreement is, though we have that pretty well hammered out. We’ve been looking at design firms. Astronomical, any of the ones worth a damn. A few haven’t been interested in being involved with a venue with nudity, the prigs.” She takes a drink. “Why do you ask?”

I shake my head; this would be better with a visual. “I don’t have my file—”

Andrea eyes me over the rim of her glass. “Your file?”

“Of designs I’ve been working on. I have ideas I’d like you to consider for the renovation.”

She crosses her arms, thin brows knitted together. “Do you have experience with interior design?”

“It’s what I went to school for. I’m good,” I say firmly. “I won an internship after I graduated, before I moved out here.”

“Aren’t you a receptionist by day?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “Things got complicated with the internship. I—” I run out of steam. “Really complicated.”

She snorts a laugh, revisiting her martini. “You find me one person without a complicated past and I’ll show you someone who doesn’t belong in New York.” She tips her head. “I’d be delighted to take a look. No promises, mind you, but after the paperwork’s been signed, you and I can have a sit-down with Charles, and we’ll look at these designs of yours.”

My jaw goes slack. All I had to do was ask?

Andrea laughs again. “You should see your face right now. You’re looking half-soaked!”

I assume what she said is some Birmingham equivalent of “shocked dumb,” because I’m at a loss for words. “Thank you?”