Page 3 of Fallen Angel

Mallory gasps. She’s surrounded by her friends and Blue Angel colleagues. The room is filled with the sound of champagne corks popping. A cascade of balloons in blush, gold, and black frame the stage curtain, and a glittering Happy Birthday banner hangs under the spotlight. She notices some decorative props that she’s featured in past acts: a feather fan, a giant champagne glass, a boa arranged artfully—a shrine to her persona, Moxie.

She turns to Alec.

“You didn’t!” Mallory doesn’t like surprises. But she likes this one.

He kisses her. “I knew it would be hard to compete with last year’s birthday. But I had to try.”

The room glows with amber light from strings of decorative, vintage Edison bulbs, and all the tables are covered in blue velvet with mismatched brass candlesticks.

Once she greets the first rush of friends, Alec helps her make her way to the bar, where the usual beer and wine menu has been upgraded with cocktails like Velvet Kick, Corset Martini, and Peep Show Spritz. A three-tiered cake is decorated with edible glitter and topped with a big, sparkling rhinestone 26.

The Blue Angel is the place that made her rethink the woman she wanted to be. There’s no better place to celebrate the new year of her life. And she loves Alec for knowing that.

She loves Alec, period.

In the middle of the packed room, Mallory feels a cool hand on her arm.

“It’s the birthday girl!”

She turns to see the notorious art patron Martha Pike and her husband, Justin Baxter.

“I’m so glad you’re both here,” Mallory says.

Justin and Martha are incredibly rich thanks to Martha’s sex toy empire. Her claim to fame is the Pike Kegel Ball, a device to strengthen and tighten the vagina. While Martha didn’t invent Kegel exercises, she is the first to make it trendy—with the accessories to match. Her handsome husband, Justin, is a connoisseur of burlesque. Their private parties are a coveted invite on both coasts, known for private performances by edgy and up-and-coming dancers. Last year, Mallory had to step in suddenly for her friend Bette Noire at one of these parties. Bette was her friend, her favorite partner in crime, and her burlesque mentor. And standing in for her that night launched Mallory’s career. But the downside is that she rarely gets to see Bette these days. She’s become too famous.

“Hi, doll,” Justin says, hugging her warmly.

“You look gorgeous, as always,” Martha says with a smile. Unfortunately, Mallory can’t return the compliment, as much as she would like to. Martha is short and stout, with limp brown hair that always seems to be in need of a good shampoo. Her skin is sun-damaged and grotesquely tan year-round. She’s always dressed in something shapeless and colorless—her wardrobe seems to be a dozen shades of gray and putty. In an absurd contrast, her husband is movie-star handsome and wearing an expensive suit. When she first met them, she thought their relationship was purely a business transaction: He lived off her fortune, and she was squired around town by a hot piece of man-candy. But the more she sees of them, she realizes they truly enjoy each other’s company and share a love of fine art, food, partying, and subversive sexuality.

“What’s new in the world of vaginal optimization?” Mallory asks Martha.

“Funny you should ask: I come bearing gifts,” Martha says, bending over with an effort that looks laborious to hunt for something on the floor. “Ah, here it is.” She straightens up and hands Mallory a pink gift bag that’s surprisingly heavy.

“What is this?”

“Open it,” Martha says gleefully.

Mallory lifts the weighty cardboard box out of the bag and opens it to find a glass pot filled with what appears to be green jelly.

“Apple jam?” she says.

“No! It’s for your vagina,” Martha says.

Mallory looks at her blankly, then examines the pot. The label on it reads Prom Night Deux.

“You coat the inside of your vagina with it, it makes it slick and tight—and presto, you’re a prom night virgin again,” Justin said.

“Wow. This is really … inventive,” Mallory says.

“Not everyone makes the effort to Kegel,” Martha explains. “Or their muscles are so far gone, it doesn’t work. Regardless, I’ve come up with a quick fix. It’s not even on the market yet. I’m giving you a preview. Or, a pre-slather.”

“Um, thanks.”

Poppy LaRue rushes over.

“Happy birthday, Moxie!”

Her friendship with Poppy started out toxic but has come a long way. Poppy is a tall, pretty Southern belle who had started at the Blue Angel just before Mallory. At first, Poppy was so threatened by Mallory’s appearance on the scene and the attention Mallory got from Bette Noire that she tipped off Mallory’s law firm supervisor that she was moonlighting. And for this little deed, Poppy was rewarded by the universe: She ended up falling in love with that supervisor, attorney Patricia Loomis.