The lido looks rich tonight. String lights, white linen, donors in good shoes.
I carry a tray of warm wine and try not to drop it.
Bev: Kira, love. Breathe. You're staff, not a stain.
Justine: Careful with that tray, apprentice. That shit costs more than your rent.
She says it loud enough for the whole table.
My face goes hot, and I smile like a fool.
Malcolm: This is Kira. My late wife's daughter. She's the apprentice here.
He says apprentice like it's my whole name.
Not family. Not Mamie's girl. Just the help he pays for.
Trey: There's my girl. Come get a picture with me, yeah?
Trey's smile is a door I can hide behind.
I take his hand before I think about it.
Trey: Smile, Kira. They're all watching.
Then his mouth is on mine in front of everyone.
The cameras go off in a white burst.
His lips are warm and sure and completely wrong.
My eyes stay open. I count the flashes.
This is the mask. It fits, and it makes my chest ache.
Justine: Look at that. The little lido girl got herself a microphone.
She laughs into her glass, and the women laugh with her.
I keep smiling. If I stop, they win.
Malcolm crooks two fingers at me from the donor booth door.
Malcolm: Kira. In here. Now.
Not a question. My feet move before my brain votes.
The booth is small and dark. It smells like his cologne and cold stone.
Malcolm: Close the door.
I close it. My heart is loud in my ears.
Malcolm: Sit down. You're shaking, and people notice shaking.
He pulls me onto his lap like it's a chair he owns.
My knees land either side of his thigh, and my whole body goes still.
Malcolm: You did well out there. That boy's mouth on you, though. That was not for me.
His thumb slides over my bottom lip, and I let it.
I hate how much I let it.
Then he kisses me. Slow. Like he has all night and I have no say.
My fingers dig into his jacket, and I kiss him back.
God help me, I do.
Malcolm: Mamie's girl. Hm.
He says it soft, and it lands like a slap.
I don't know if it's a compliment or a warning.
Malcolm: Fix your face. Go back out there and be the apprentice.
He straightens my collar. His hands are steady. Mine are not.
Outside, Trey waves me over for another picture.
Justine watches me like she already knows.
Malcolm's handprint is still warm on my hip.