Page 71 of Fallen Angel

Poppy feels hopeful for the first time since they stepped into that uptight room.

“How?”

“For starters, I think you should go meet up with Mallory. And I’ll come with you.”

“Now?” Poppy says. Patricia nods. “What about dinner?”

“Fuck dinner. Let’s go do something real together.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Baxters invited them over at seven. Mallory assumes they’re fitting them in right before they go out for the night and she takes this as a positive sign—that they’re prioritizing them.

But any illusion that they were getting a private little meeting is gone when they hear loud Britney Spears before they even reach the front door. It’s the song “Circus,” and that’s when Mallory realizes she smells popcorn.

They’ve walked into an actual circus—well, more accurately, a carnival. Red-and-white striped draping cascades from the ceiling, gathered at intervals with tasseled ropes so the entire place feels like a big-top tent. The stage is a small raised platform with a velvet curtain drawn to reveal a contortionist warming up for her act. Mallory spots a vintage brass popcorn cart. Across the room, stilt walkers brush the ceiling, and jugglers in jester hats toss silver clubs.

Mallory checks out the guests, wondering who they are. There’s always someone interesting at a Baxter party.

“Come in, come in,” Justin says, Martha by his side. She’s dressed in a shapeless, bejeweled tunic, while Justin is in his usual suit and tie. “Excuse all the excitement. We just had a spontaneous urge for a carnival.”

“Oh, no problem. Thanks for seeing us on such short notice,” Alec says. Mallory looks around for any burlesque performers. The Baxter parties almost always include burlesque, but she sees no sign of it tonight.

“Poppy is on her way,” Mallory says.

“Ms. LaRue is joining us? Well, this must be serious,” Martha says cheekily.

They move to a red leather banquette that must have been brought in just for the party. Servers hover nearby, balancing silver trays of elevated circus food: tiny corn dogs with truffle mustard, foie gras on brioche skewered like lollipops, caramelized nuts in origami paper cones.

“So you were saying that you have another idea you want to talk about?” Justin says.

“It might be a little premature for us,” Martha says. “We’re still stinging from the Blue Angel.”

“Martha is very competitive. She doesn’t like to lose.”

Mallory and Alec exchange a look. Not the best way to start the conversation. Time to shift gears.

She looks around. “Why don’t you have any burlesque performers here tonight? It’s not because of what happened with Blue Angel, is it?”

Martha sighs. “Sometimes it’s dangerous to turn your passion into profession. I’ve been lucky with the sexy toys. It worked. But trying to go pro with the Blue Angel … it was an overreach. The wrong direction. And tonight, I don’t want to be reminded of it.”

This time, Mallory is afraid to look at Alec. If his confidence in their idea is as shaken as her own, she doesn’t want to see it in his eyes. She has to take control of the conversation.

“We’re disappointed too,” she says. But we’re not willing to accept defeat.”

Martha snaps her fingers at a server to hail another drink. Justin leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Guys, maybe we should put a pin in this for tonight. Just relax and have some fun. If we can’t still do that, then we’ve really fumbled the ball.”

“Not yet,” Mallory says. “Look, it’s simple—well, not simple. But Alec and I want to open a new club to compete with the Blue Angel.”

Martha turns, her attention fully focused on her. “Good for you, Moxie. Go for it.”

Mallory was hoping she’d say something like that.

“We want to,” Alec says. “And we’ll give it everything we’ve got. But the one thing we don’t have is the financial resources to make this happen. We need investors.”

“An angel investor. Ha!” Martha says, delighted by her pun.

Justin and Martha don’t look excited anymore.