Rouge Read Free

our friends. Mary was stocky and loud, but a good dancer; Frank and Carla were the only married couple in our troupe. Carla was somewhat plain with almost-black hair, small eyes, and a long nose. But she was tall and lean like her husband, who was hired to compliment me onstage. I drew the male patrons, and Frank drew the female. Light on his feet, with slim hips and luscious, black waves, Frank was a male-dancer fantasy. Occasionally, I could even hear the female swoons from the audience when he appeared.
    “Hale!” Evie jumped down and rushed to embrace me. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
    I hugged her tightly, remembering the day she arrived. She’d been the first girl my age in the show, and at fifteen-almost-sixteen, she was so proud of herself—a runaway from a Memphis farm turned New Orleans showgirl.
    A glass of champagne was placed in my hand, and we all raised a toast to Evie. I sipped and Roland took my elbow, leading me from the group.
    “It appears you’ve worked your magic on the dashing Mr. Lovel,” he said. “I believe that was the Fox Trot he was doing when he left your room. Maybe he should be Frank’s understudy.”
    My cheeks burned. “I didn’t see him leave,” I lied.
    Roland just laughed. “Come now,” he turned to face me. “I know you’re happy about this one. I certainly would be.”
    “Freddie’s nice. But I’m not sure of him yet. These fellows lose interest as quickly as they find it.”
    “If you’re comparing him to Octavia, don’t. That smelly hound was only seeking a willing partner from the start.”
    “Aren’t they all?” I breathed, turning away.
    Roland caught my chin and made me look at him. “No. And this one’s different.”
    “Because Gavin found him?”
    He nodded. “That helps. He’s very serious. And seriously smitten.”
    I turned away from his amusement. “If only he could get us out of here—”
    My reply was interrupted by a loud laugh from Evie. I glanced at her still sitting among the people I’d known since childhood—our strange family—and my mind traveled back to the first night she and I saw what really went on after hours in our theater home.
    I pushed that ugly memory down and looked at Roland. He was watching Evie’s birthday group with a smile.
    “How long can we keep this up?” I asked him quietly.
    “Keep what up?”
    “The façade that nothing bad happens here, that everything’s so happy.”
    He shrugged. “It is pretty happy at present. Ticket sales are soaring. Everybody’s got money, and the current supply is meeting back-room demand.”
    “At present,” I repeated, turning back to the wall. “And how long will that last?”
    “What does it matter? You never have to worry about facing those dark little rooms.”
    I shook my head. “My promise doesn’t cover everyone.”
    We were leaning against the ledge, and I surveyed the lights of the city. So many times I’d imagined taking Teeny and running away, but Rosa’s old stories kept me locked here, too afraid of ending up on the streets begging. Or worse.
    A low chord sounded in the distant night, three notes played together, one a half-step off. A line creased my forehead as I considered it.
    “Barge?” I asked.
    Roland followed my gaze across the darkening city rooftops. Then he frowned. “Train. Headed north to Chicago , I bet.”
    In his voice was a sound I seldom heard, one he never allowed anyone else to hear. It was something like longing or regret, and I glanced over at him. He was four years my senior, but in that moment he could’ve been as young as Teeny, wishing for something just out of reach. It was gone in an instant. He breathed a laugh, breaking the spell, and wrapped his arm across my shoulders.
    “Relax. Gavin’s practical, but he never forgets a promise.”
    I shook my head and looked down. He didn’t know my fears, that Gavin’s promise to my dead mother didn’t cover Teeny, and that the older she got, the closer she grew to joining