Lana’s darkly penciled eyebrows lifted, and she smiled at Lily before she looked at Betty. “The China doll will have a martini too.”
Lily wasn’t sure if she should feel flattered or insulted.
Lana offered her silver cigarette case around the table, and Claire said, “I’ll take one. Did you hear about Ruth Schmidt?”
“Ruthie from San Mateo?” Lana said.
“Yes. Have you heard?”
“No, what happened?”
Claire leaned into the lighter that Paula held out for her, inhaling quickly. “She told me some G-men asked her to be an informant.”
Lily—and everyone else—stared at Claire in surprise.
“An informant!” Lana exclaimed. “I thought she was working over at the shipyard.”
“Yes, as a typist. But apparently the feds think her new boyfriend is a pinko.”
Lana’s eyebrows rose again. “Really? You mean little Marty Coleman? The car salesman?”
Claire laughed. “The shoe salesman. Yes. The feds think he’s involved in a Communist organization, and they want her to spy on him for them. I told her she should throw him over for a real woman.”
The word Communist was jarring to Lily, as if someone had thrown a rock through a glass window, but the women at the table continued talking and smoking as if nothing had happened.
“I thought they were done with that kind of snooping now that McCarthy’s out,” Paula said.
“Apparently not,” Lana said.
Claire blew out a stream of smoke impatiently. “You’d think they would avoid asking Ruthie to be an informant, given her past association with homosexuals.” She said the word homosexuals sarcastically, as if it were a joke, but the word still sounded obscene to Lily.
“Do you really think the feds know?” Lana asked doubtfully.
“Oh, they know all right,” Claire said. “She said I should be on the lookout in case they came to interview me, because they told her they knew about us.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” Paula said, startled.
“It doesn’t matter,” Claire said casually, but there was a tension in the way she brought the cigarette to her mouth and drew on it, deeply. “I’m a nobody. I work in a dentist’s office. No Russians could possibly be interested in anything I do.”
Lily was increasingly bewildered by the conversation. These women were talking as if it were all a good joke, and yet there was an undercurrent to their tone that suggested something darker. She wanted to ask for more details, but she didn’t think she had the right. She barely knew Claire; she barely knew any of these women. She glanced at Kath, who had a slightly puzzled expression on her face as if she didn’t really understand either.
The waitress returned with their drinks, and Lana scooted her chair out of the way so that Betty could set down the pitcher of martinis, four cocktail glasses, and a beer. “It’s on the house,” Betty said.
“Thanks,” Lana said. “Say, what are you up to after the second act tonight? We’re having a little party up at our place. You want to join us?”
“I’m supposed to go out with Cheryl,” Betty said.
“Bring her.” Lana smiled archly. “Tommy loves Cheryl.”
Betty laughed and shook her head. “If by love you mean hate. No, but thanks, doll. I’ll tell Cheryl you said hello.”
“You do that,” Lana said, and then Betty had to leave to attend to another table.
Lana poured the martinis, then raised hers in a toast. “Cheers!” she said as she clinked her cocktail glass against Claire’s.
Lily did the same, holding hers carefully to avoid spilling the clear liquid. The drink smelled astringent, practically medicinal, and when she took a tiny sip, it was sharp on her tongue and a shock to swallow, like cold fire. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.
“You should come too, Claire,” Lana was saying. “All of you should come over after the show. It would be lovely to have some new faces around. I’m getting a little tired of Tommy’s friends.” She said the word friends dryly, sharing a knowing look with Claire.
Lily wondered what Lana meant. She wondered if the invitation to her party truly included her and Kath, and then she began to hope that it did.
31
After the second act, Tommy came through the crowded room with an entire bottle of the cheap champagne and pulled up an empty chair between Lana and Claire, who made room without being asked. Lily caught Claire looking around a little selfconsciously, as if she knew others in the club were eyeing her proximity to Tommy and wondering who she was. Lana called Betty over to clear away the empty glasses and bring over fresh ones. As Tommy reached over to pour champagne, her cologne drifted toward Lily. The scent was heady, like being drunk on a leather sofa. It made Lily’s skin go warm.