The rest of the week dragged after my eventful Monday. Pearl made herself scarce, and I neither saw nor heard from Mathieu; nothing about contracts or screen tests, but no news was good news. Although, a simple hello would have been nice. There was Lou’s voice again, but it wasn’t as loud this time, maybe because he’d be here soon, and I’d hear the real thing. 

My free time not worrying if Mathieu was still alive was spent altering Lou’s gown into the fantasy he… Drew was an exaggeration. My phone rang just as I set up my mirror, and the flutter of hope I had gave me indigestion.

“Hello?”

“Well, don’t sound so happy to hear from me,” Daniel said. “Are you busy?”

Goddammit. “I’m not, and yes.”

“What could you have to do on a weeknight?” Daniel went silent and added, “Actually, I don’t wanna know what you do other nights.”

“I’m knitting more sweaters to upset Dad with. What should I wear the next time I come over? A poodle skirt, maybe a tutu and tiara.”

“Don’t joke like that,” he sighed. “And I was calling about that, anyway. I wanted to apologize.”

“Mama or Nanny?”

“What?”

“Who put you up to it?”

“Come on, Darzsa. I’m serious. I kinda pushed Dad to say all that, and I let him get on you bad. Mama’s still pretty hot with him.” Daniel breathed into the phone and grunted. “It was Pops.”

That was a surprise. Among the grandparents, I won out over Daniel. His apology was more sincere than his last ones, but my dad’s views weren’t changing, and it wasn’t on Daniel to apologize for him. 

“Don’t worry about it. I know you think you meant nothing by it.” Successive knocks on my door commenced the Lou part of my night. “Hey, I got company.”

“You do?” Daniel coughed, and I was sure he struggled to keep several comments to himself. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Tell Mama I said hello.”

“I will. Oh, and Darzsa?” Daniel hummed before he said, “Enjoy your night.”

Great, someone else thought I was dating Lou. I hung up and opened the door before my neighbors complained about Lou’s incessant knocking—again.

“Took you long enough.” Lou skipped the hug and marched straight to my bedroom. 

He sat at my desk and unzipped his bag, laying out his brushes and makeup. The dress was already on the bed, and I needed a last-minute fitting to complete it. Lou changed into his undergarments and banished me from my room because “a lady needed her privacy,” then called me back to zip the dress. 

“Now that I see the dress on you, we may need to go with a different lipstick color,” I suggested.

“Maybe,” Lou replied.

“So I was thinking more of this color.” I picked up a raspberry shade. “Since I added some more appliques, this pink would be fab with the gold.” 

“Sounds good.”

Lou was an oddball, but this was screwy, even for him. By now, I’d have an arm colored in eyeshadow because we’d change the look several times, and I’d be on the verge of pulling my hair out. 

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Lou adjusted his wig, “unless you count utter betrayal by your best friend.”

“Lou, what are you—”

“It’s Miss La Flor when I have my hair on.” Miss La Flor dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Do you have any cookies?”

“How have I wronged you this time?”

“Cookies first, then maybe I’ll talk.”

I raided my kitchen for my stash of Oreos and handed them to my dramatic friend. “Talk.”

Miss Manic Mari La Flor crunched on the cookies and got crumbs all over the beautiful gown I reconstructed. “For starters, you stabbed me in the back. After all I’ve done for you to get you out of the house and...and you just… What do you have over me—”

I snatched the wig off, and after a round of squalling, my eye twitched, but Lou put a lid on it. “What are you talking about?”

“Josiah, that’s what I’m talking about.” Lou stuffed tissue in his bra for safekeeping. “I’m the one who’s been frequenting the diner and leaving him big tips. I even unbuttoned my shirt a bit and wore my corset—those splits go straight to my midsection—and you know what I get? Questions about where you are and what other foods you don’t like.”

“So?”

“So, you jezebel, give me my man back.” Lou collapsed on the bed, still managing to do so gracefully. Honestly, I couldn’t tell if this was part of his act or not. “You already have one who doesn’t want you; why do you need mine?”

I took Lou’s jabs about Mathieu in stride, but his low blow battered what little denial I had. We’d go days without seeing each other in the past, and it was part of our usual tug-of-war. But I was tired of playing this game. The worst part was that I came closer to believing Lou was right.

“Get up before you wrinkle it,” I said.

“Darzsa, I’m sorry.” Lou elongated on the bed. “You know I didn’t—”

“You meant it.”

“—mean to say it out loud.”

Lou’s brand of honesty came at the wrong times, but after how ridiculous he just was over a man who was probably too nice to put out a restraining order, it was hard to stay mad. I took my measurements before he had another spell, and we finalized his makeup.

He stepped out of the dress, and I hung it back in the closet. “I am sorry about earlier. I’ve been in a slump, that’s all. It’s not easy to find a decent man around here. So you have my blessing with Josiah.”

“Thank you, what would I do without it?”

“Just go for it. If you didn’t turn him off with your high-maintenance food orders, he’s a keeper already.” Lou waddled toward me with his slip around his knees. “If not, there’s still plan B. Just a night where you let loose and have some man take your body to the heights of ecstasy.” 

“You’ve been reading those dirty pulps again, haven’t you?”

“A girl can dream.” Lou unhooked his bra and stuffed his padding into his bag. “Think about it, okay? Besides, it’s a one-and-done thing. Unless it’s tops, then you find out where he works. Oh, and make sure he’s clean.”

We moved to the living room and stuffed our faces with cookies after he washed up. He still convinced me that this new cook in town was head over heels for me.

“From my records, he moved here less than a year ago, he’s worked at the diner for six months, and, most importantly, he fought in the world war,” Lou said. “So he might be a little...off, but that works, right? You don’t have to worry about food, and if you get a look at him from behind that counter, you’ll have a better excuse not to leave the house.”

“Are you done planning my love life?”

“No. There’s no ring on his finger, not a tan line or indent—I doubt he has any kids. Too bad he doesn’t work on Sundays. You could’ve asked him out when we went to breakfast.”

“You’re basing all this off him remembering my order? That means he’s good at his job. And he’s probably got even gay.”

“Believe me, that man hasn’t touched a papaya a day in his life. But, you will get your mind off that country bumpkin chump.” Lou paused and asked, “Was that harsh?”

I shook my head and helped him repack his Mary Poppins bag. I knew Lou meant well, and I probably should follow some of his advice, but I wasn’t asking anyone out. No one who was Lou’s type, anyway. 

“See you Saturday, and don’t be late. Also, wear something hep in case you want to get lucky upstairs.”

I told Lou good night and locked the door behind him. While cleaning up my room and arms after our colorful evening, I glanced into my open closet. It might be worth picking out an outfit just in case.