“No . . . I mean, yes. You look . . . spectacular. I just . . . I still can’t believe you get up in front of people wearing that, is all.”

“Not me,” I said. “I’d sooner die. Cassidy.”

I’m wearing my overcoat when I enter Lava. I’ve asked Gabriel to come with me this evening. Ever since I broke that taboo and allowed him entry rights to Lava, I’ve realized that it had been a mistake to try to separate my worlds. His hand is on the small of my back, but as soon as we’re a step inside, he moves in front to clear the crowd. I walk behind him. He must spot Karen before I do, because he abruptly zigs. A few steps later, I see that he’s heading straight for her.

It’s hot in the club, and Karen’s dress bares her shoulders and arms. It gives me the best view I’ve had yet of her impressive body art, the main feature of which is a serpent that curls around her arm from her bicep to her wrist.

Gabriel gets the first double kiss, and then me. I can feel Karen’s hand on my back; it’s almost as if she’s trying to ascertain the contours of my outfit beneath my coat.

When our embrace ends, she says, “Need to see the merch.”

This time I don’t do the stripper routine. With Gabriel beside me, I can’t pretend I’m Cassidy, so I simply remove my coat and hand it to him. He drapes it over his arm like he’s a coat-check boy.

“Me likey,” Karen says.

“Thanks,” I reply.

“You’re going on at ten sharp. I’ve looked at your set list. Good choices, all of them. I think you should move the one you wrote up a slot, maybe two. Don’t get me wrong, I love that song, but closing with two up-tempo numbers is better.”

A minor change in song order usually doesn’t faze me. For some reason, however, my legs suddenly feel like jelly.

“You okay?” Gabriel asks as soon as Karen leaves us.

“Yeah . . . all of a sudden . . . I don’t know what just came over me.”

“Do you want a drink?”

I do. I’m badly in need of something to calm my now-runaway nerves.

A man vacates his stool the moment we reach the bar, and Gabriel motions for me to sit.

“Relax. You’re going to be great,” Gabriel says. “You always are, Ella.”

I want to tell him not to call me that. Not here. But instead I ask the bartender for a whisky. Once it’s poured, I reach eagerly for the drink, and finish it in two gulps.

“One more,” I say quickly.

“Take it easy,” Gabriel says. “You want to be relaxed. Not smashed.”