“That’s what makes it work,” said Gwen. “Jade will be our magician. Ellis will be her apprentice and I’ll be her girl, and I don’t know exactly what that means, but there’s always a girl who stands around in a pretty dress and no one thinks too hard about why she’s there. And Rory, you can be Pierrot.” She cleared her throat. “Our sad clown.”
Rory narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that, it’s ingenious,” said Gwen. “We can’t expect you to keep up an act and this way you won’t have to. All you have to do is frown and you’re very good at that.”
Rory’s eyes narrowed further.
“Think about it, kid,” added Ellis. “Anyone asks you why you’re there, well tough shit, you can’t answer, you only communicate in pantomime. You don’t have to come up with some story; all you have to do is keep your mouth shut and make hand gestures.”
“I got a hand gesture for you right now,” said Rory.
But Jade looked persuaded. “It’s actually a very good disguise, and really a rather clever way to keep you from having to try to lie,” she said to Rory, and how could he argue with that?
“I already spoke to Carmen,” said Gwen. “She has costumes we can borrow.”
“Well, the rest of us can borrow.” Ellis pointed at Arthur. “She doesn’t have a tuxedo that’ll fit this giant.”
“I’m not that big,” Arthur protested. “Just—you know.” He gestured at himself with both hands, biceps flexing. “Shouldery.”
Rory’s gaze lingered on Arthur and the way his arms filled out the jacket. “Giant’snot an insult,” he said, with feeling. “But what’s Ace gonna do for a tux, then?”
Arthur sighed. “I may be able to find a tailor. I used to know at least three here in Paris who could suit me.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw, his pale skin stubbled with jet black. “I’ll need a barber too.”
“If you can clean up for tonight and get your ticket,” said Gwen, “we’ll handle the rest.”
Arthur stiffened. “You want me to separate from Rory?” he said, looking at Jade.
“Do you see any other way?” she said softly. “It’s already past eight and the show starts at six.”
Rory furrowed his brow. “You don’t think the seller will take the siphon into his box at the show?”
Gwen shook her head. “He’s been paranoid the entire time. I suspect he won’t trust Arthur not to show up with an army; he’ll probably have it close but under guard.”
“If we want to search backstage, pretending to be part of the show is our best option,” Ellis added.
Rory looked over at Arthur. The tables were all full and crowded now, and as much as Arthur had said this wasn’t America, Rory was pretty sure he still didn’t get to kiss Arthur in the middle of a sidewalk café, no matter how nervous all of this made him.
Rory held Arthur’s gaze. “I’m only gonna do it if you promise to be careful.”
“That’s my line,” Arthur said softly.
They returned to the cabaret, where most of the others went to look for costumes. But Rory found himself corralled by Arthur into the single bathroom on their floor, which had blue-and-white-striped wallpaper and ashtrays on every surface.
Arthur pinned him up against the sink, the porcelain pressing into Rory’s lower back. Rory ached for the closeness too; this plan put Arthur in too much danger.
Their bodies were close enough Rory could feel Arthur’s body heat through his suit. Arthur bent his head and brushed his jaw along Rory’s. “If you’re going to paint yourself like a mime, you have to shave.”
Rory made a face. “Barely worth it,” he protested, snaking his hand up between their bodies to run it over the light stubble on his own face.
“Sorry, I have no sympathy.” Arthur held up a shaving kit. “There’s a safety razor in here if you’d rather that than the straight blade. I’m personally stopping at the barber’s, if you’d prefer a professional—”
“Nah,” Rory said hastily. “I don’t know how you let some other fella shave you. I’m doing it myself.”
Arthur darted in close again. “Let me do it some time,” he whispered, breath against Rory’s ear, low voice rumbling across his skin.
Rory’s entire body reacted to the thought, the idea of Arthur’s muscles hemming him in, his hand on Rory’s throat to hold him steady as he slid a straight razor blade over his skin.
Yeah, yeah, let’s do that, Rory tried to say, but all that came out was an embarrassing squeak.
