Before Lou came over and made a mess of my entire evening, I raided my closet for my next day’s outfit. Pearl kept it the eighth circle of hell in the main part of the store and colder than the North Pole in the back, so it was hard to choose. I made it to the end of my closet, where I kept some of Lou’s older gowns and costumes. 

He never knew what I did with most of them; I usually told him I repurposed them into garments for the shop. But I spent so much time designing them, and they did look damn good on him. I wouldn’t let Pearl get any more of my hard work. Besides those reasons, I couldn’t part with them because they were little pieces. More than that…

My everyday prison was button-downs, vests, sweaters, and slacks. These sequins and unused fabrics from work, the gowns that gave Lou that hourglass figure. I never brought myself to watch him or the other girls on stage, though he begged me. 

I got Lou stage-ready every other Saturday, but watching meant seeing something I could never have, getting so close to something I wasn’t sure I was ready to have. Look at me, I was standing in my closet lamenting over gowns a day after freaking out over buying lipstick. There was some cruel irony somewhere in there. 

I picked out a navy shirt and paired it with a cherry-patterned bowtie. Just in time for the loud knocks on my door—Lou never did anything quietly. I let him in and prepared for the headache I’d have by the time he left.

“Mi amor.” Lou threw his arms wide and held me captive in a hug that always lasted too long. “So, how was your day? You didn’t cuss that bitch Pearl out, did you?” Lou released me and squinted around the room. “Last night, or is he still here?”

“I got to leave early,” I made a beeline for the couch, “and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Darzsa. That look, that smell, that little”—Lou spread his fingers—“gap-legged gait. You’ve been with a guy.”

I stretched my legs to block Lou from sitting. He always knew. Lou had an uncanny way of suspecting when I made terrible decisions. Last night with Mathieu was the best we’ve had in months, so I didn’t need his tangential ramblings ruining that.

Lou disregarded my obstruction and pinched my calves until I confessed. “Alright. Yes, it was Mathieu, and no, I don’t want to hear it.”

Lou smoothed his fingers over his hair, adding height to his pomp. “What was the excuse this time? Work or family?”

It was the same thing every week, regardless of whether I slept with Mathieu. You can do better. He’s not going to change. There are plenty of other guys out there. All things I—mostly—knew, but Lou didn’t know Mathieu the way I did. 

“We’re both busy, that’s all.” There I was, making excuses for him.

Lou released a tired sigh and got off the couch. “Tell me about something other than your tragic love life then.”

“Pearl’s working on some contract, so I worked half a day. And I made sure to negotiate my cut.”

“Neato,” Lou exclaimed. “That’ll be some decent dough. Maybe you can get one of those pads with a gate or something. Not like you can’t afford it already anyway, but you wanna keep tabs on—”

“Lou.” Once he got going, he’d bug me about Mathieu until he got tired—which was never. “Actually, a gate means I can keep people out.”

“Anyway,” Lou clicked his tongue, “while you’re styling the stars, maybe you’ll have time for little old me. You know I can never get my eyeshadow right.”

I owed getting this far to Lou. In his own kookie way, he’s been my closest and most reliable friend since I moved here. He had the impulse control of a toddler, but he was my outlet and confidant for discovering myself—and what I was still figuring out. 

“I’ll see if I can still pencil you in,” I said. 

I lifted his bag and lugged it into my bedroom. We usually went over makeup and costume changes for his performances, but by the weight, he might as well move in.

“Oh, I’ll get that.” Lou dropped the strap on his shoulder with ease. “I’ve been struck with inspiration. We can reuse one of my old gowns—you still got the black and gold one, don’t you?—and go from there.”

Lou sat down at the desk across from my bed while I got the vanity mirror from my closet. One of those nice ones with the lights that Mathieu salvaged from the studio. I dug around under my bed and got my brushes and makeup stash Lou kept here. Sometimes I thought about testing some of it out, but Lou was one of those queens who was bitchy about people in his compacts.

“Tell me more about this deal,” Lou said, showing me a very rough sketch of his vision. “Who’s it with? What’s the amount—stop laughing—will I be allowed back in the shop after you start running it?”

“I don’t know the specifics—close your eyes—yet. Only that it’s with RGE, and I get thirty-five and more control than she tried to give me. And Pearl would let you in there only over her dead body.”

I never saw someone so belligerent when it came to Lou, not even some old flames he’d scorned. But it was one of the rare things I agreed with Pearl on. 

Lou scoffed, nearly skewing his eyeliner. “Wait, you said RGE? Isn’t that where Mathieu is?”

“Yea, what about it?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just interesting. Interesting indeed. So very...fascinating. Almost like a coincidence—is it one?—that you make this deal with Pearl, and—”

I couldn’t take him when he was like this. “Spit it out, Lou.”  

“I thought you’d never ask. More importantly, this cat-eye is the bee’s knees.” Lou angled toward the mirror and batted his eyes. “Also, are you trying to get your feelings hurt—again? Why do you need to follow him around at work? Just dump him already.” Lou rolled his fingers over his lipsticks. “Well, I guess you can’t dump someone you were never with, can you?” Lou handed me a red shade. “Let’s try this one.”

I snatched it from him and twisted the bullet. He had to pick the same color as the one in my drawer. I glided it across his lips, fighting the urge to cram it down his throat. It was beautiful on him, stunning actually. The girl at the store was right, and in proper lighting, Lou killed it. I capped the lipstick and tossed it on the bed.

“What I’m doing with Pearl has nothing to do with Mathieu. This is for me; this is the chance I’ve been waiting for.” Mathieu or not, I worked too hard to get here. “It’s coming together for me.”

“I’m proud of you, acere.” Lou hugged me, keeping his face away from my shirt. “Bad taste in men aside. Which we can fix if you’d go out on the floor instead of going home—maybe upstairs for a nightcap. And you know you can still do breakfast with us at the diner. There’s this new cook there that—”

“Put a lid on it.” Lou would understand my dilemma better than anyone, but admitting it to another soul was slightly less complicated than his dress mock-up.   

“Alright, alright. But if you change your mind, I saw him first.” Lou reached down into his bag and pulled out three wigs. “Now, let’s talk hair.”