Darzsa saw all this in the mirror as he brushed on an extra coat of mascara. He glanced at the other girls who were still as stone, not so much as grabbing Ruthie a tissue while she stood shaken, nursing her cheek and stifling sobs. It was close to time for the performance Chéri sold out all the tables for, and Darzsa couldn’t bear to keep the girls from putting on a show.

He fanned out his dress and adjusted his turban. Ellie and Barb rubbed his shoulders, but he reassured them that he was okay. Darzsa’s eyes creased as he smiled at Ruthie, acknowledging her for the first time tonight. “You and I have gotten off to the wrong foot.” He glided over to her with a delicate sway of his hips. “Why don’t we get a fresh start? Water under the bridge.” Darzsa held his hand out for Ruthie to shake.

What was that saying about catching more flies with honey than vinegar? Darzsa's words were stuck together with saccharine wiles. Ruthie wiped her tears and smacked his hand away. 

“Don’t try to be friends with me now, Darzsa. You’ve been nothing but cold to me since I started here. You’re rude to everyone.” She addressed the remaining ladies behind her for support, but they knew not to get caught in the crossfire. “Casting a kitten over everyone’s makeup and dresses, but if we say one thing to you, we get taken for a ride. 

“And you had no right telling my business to everyone. How would you like it if I told Pearl about the times you’ve snuck out the back door or siphoned hooch off Mathieu?” 

Her business? If Ruthie wanted to keep it a secret, then she should have been more discreet. Or the boys in the band shouldn’t have loose lips. Darzsa rubbed the back of his hand to assuage the light soreness. 

The Cheshire Cat smiled down at poor Alice, who didn’t heed the rules. 

“Truth hurts, darling.” Darzsa shrugged and adjusted the straps on this dress. “I was merely calling a spade a spade.” Darzsa bent down until he was inches from Ruthie’s face. “While you’re telling your Auntie Pearl about my indiscretions, be sure to explain why the books come up short.” 

Ruthie’s eyes darkened, a dingy and unappealing emerald, not like the Real McCoy dancing around Darzsa’s waist as he sauntered back to his seat. Whispers of ‘auntie’ and ‘what did he mean’ got the girls alive and moving again. Ruthie’s face and neck bloomed with crimson as deep as her aching cheek. Whispers turned to questions, which she replied to with a door slam. 

Darzsa crossed his legs and addressed the gawking and confusion surrounding him. “Don’t you dames have a show to do?”

***

The false door was off the hinges tonight when the jazz kicked up again in the front, and the piano struck in the back. The feds weren’t bothered with the city that care forgot and were the first to line up at the bar for some bill dipping and arm candy. 

Darzsa was unrecognizable to everyone who passed him. Sharpshooters waiting for their chance to have a go wanted to know who the “brown-eyed beauty with the stilts” was. He held up the bar the early part of the evening, keeping the tap flowing and ignoring all the advances from Mathieu.

“That fella coming tonight, Darzsa?” Mathieu spun one of the bottles of moonshine on the counter. “If not, that dress would look swell on my floor.”

One night of drunken boredom and Darzsa hadn’t heard the end of it. Okay, several months, but Darzsa would never admit he was head over heels for a potato like Mathieu. 

Mathieu’s crooning ramped up when different men offered Darzsa drinks or asked him to dance. None of them held his attention anyway or were too drunk to greet him properly. Darzsa tuned out Mathieu’s talk of what kind of night he could show Darzsa and into the early morning.  

“Come on, doll,” Mathieu pleaded, words slurring the more shots he took. “If I recall, you liked it when I kissed you here.” He pressed his alcohol-drenched fingers into Darzsa’s neck and snaked down to his dress strap. “How about you and I dust outta here?”

Darzsa snatched Mathieu’s hand and slammed it on the counter; the bottle jostled and nearly crashed to the floor. He’d had it with Mathieu’s antics and didn’t have the patience to deal with another nuisance. “If I recall, you couldn’t get it up because you drank too much. Now,” Darzsa dragged Mathieu across the counter by his collar, “do mind your hand since it’ll be the only thing keeping you company tonight.”

The crowd parted when Darzsa swept to the other side of the room. Doing his job was the last thing on his mind, so he held up the wall with the other duds and watched hands and feet swing to the rhythm. 

Darzsa’s night was going to shit, and no amount of flattery was pulling him out of his foul mood. He turned them down left and right when the tempo slowed. No point in wasting a dance on someone whose name or face he didn’t care to remember. Darzsa laid his eyes over the party for someone who he’d share every dance with—who made ruining his makeup worth it. He spotted Ellie and Barb in the corner sharing a drink and whispering to each other, Pearl petting some bimbo, even Henry cozying up to one of the trumpet players. 

Darzsa was down in the dumps. Someone as skittish as Henry was some lollygagger, and Darzsa was nothing more than part of the decor. All night people asked about him, and Darzsa realized that Josiah never mentioned coming tonight. Why would he miss tonight of all nights? Every encounter with Josiah was a game of tug of war, and Darzsa still didn’t know where he stood with him. Right now, all Darzsa wanted to do was dance with him.

His breaths shortened like his tolerance for this deteriorating evening. The piano belted out softer and subdued melodies, complementing the drums and bass in a metronomic reprise that ate away at the last of Darzsa’s patience. He pushed himself off the wall to take a break somewhere, anywhere quieter. Except he left one wall and ran into another; tall, firm, and wool. Josiah.

“Looking for me?” 

Darzsa choked on air at the sight of him. He quickly regained his composure and straighten the bow on his dress. “You’re late.”

“Only if you were expecting me,” Josiah smirked and extended a hand to Darzsa. “Care to dance?”

A prime opportunity to give Jo a taste of his own medicine, and Darzsa could easily deny him the privilege of his company. But Darzsa had taken too many hits tonight, and this would be another time he extinguished his pride and conceded to his desires. “Lead the way.”