Chapter 16: After the Curtain

"My grandmother's four hundred thousand dollars," I said. "My name off every building he owns."

"And I want everyone who laughed to stay in their seats and watch the rest."

The columnist wrote it down word for word.

Then she looked at the stage, where the curtain was going up on Act Two.

"Put me down for the whole run," she said.

I walked back up the aisle with my cheeks on fire.

Rafe was standing at the end of row F with his arms crossed.

He looked at me.

I didn't see the second half of the play either.

By midnight the company had gone to the bar across the street.

The shop was dark and smelled of steam and chalk.

I'd told Rafe to wait for me there.

He stood by the cutting table in the half-light from the street, with his jacket over his arm.

"You said tonight was yours to choose," he said.

"It is."

"So choose."

I locked the shop door behind me.

I crossed the floor and took the jacket out of his hand.

I dropped it on the daybed, the one I'd cried on the first night.

"Not the bed," I said.

I put my hands on his belt and walked him backward until he hit the edge of the long cutting table.

He sat on it.

It was a good table, scarred with chalk and pin marks, wide enough for a coat.

"Jo."

"Don't talk."

I unbuttoned his shirt and put my mouth on his throat, where I could feel his pulse jumping.

He groaned softly and wrapped both arms around me.

I pulled back.

"No," I said. "Hands on the table."

His eyebrows went up, and his mouth went crooked.

He put his palms flat on the wood on either side of him.

"Yes, ma'am."

I took my time with him, and I enjoyed it.

I kissed down his chest and over his stomach, and I felt every muscle jump under my lips.

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