Page 110 of Boyfriend of the Hour
“Brooklyn,” I told him after texting a few friends. “We won’t be long. But we’ll need to stop by the apartment to change clothes first.”
TWENTY
SURPRISING THINGS ABOUT NATHAN HUNT
#17 The way he weres tshirts like coture. But those arms tho
An hour later, the cab Nathan had insisted on hailing pulled up to a warehouse in Brooklyn that had a life-size giant octopus alongside a wooly mammoth painted over the entrance.
I’d have gone for the train myself. But while he had allowed me to force him into jeans and a plain black T-shirt, my fake boyfriend had steadfastly refused to subject himself to New York’s subway system.
“Do you have any idea how many pathogens exist on one seat in the subway?” he’d called from his bedroom.
“Do you have any idea how many live on the seats of New York City cabs?”
He just chuckled but didn’t relent. And so, one overpriced cab ride later, we found ourselves in Bushwick.
“Huh. They changed it,” I said as I took in the mural, which served, in my opinion, as a festive intro to the performances I could already hear warming up inside.
“It changes?” Nathan wondered as he looked it over.
I grinned at him. “Oh, all the time. Casper can’t deal with looking at the same thing for too long, so they swap it out at least once a month. Two months ago, this dude was an orc surrounded by Barbie dolls. Before that, I think it was a collection of pegasuses doing lines. Or just pegasus?”
“Pegasi.” Nathan looked up at the octopus as if he was struggling to imagine either option in its place. “And this is the type of place where he—Shawn—would come?”
I wrinkled my nose. I honestly did not want to think about my ex this evening. “Shawn goes wherever the party is, and Casper’s been the best party in town for years. If he doesn’t actually see us here tonight, he’ll hear about it. And that’s almost as good. Maybe even better.”
At least it would be easier. If I could keep communication between Shawn and me as hearsay for the rest of my life, I’d be a very happy girl.
“Come on,” I said as I tugged Nathan up the steps. “Let’s see what’s happening tonight at Peek.”
Inside, the entry of the warehouse was more like a speakeasy, with a makeshift bar in one corner that essentially paid for the whole project and slouchy chairs and thrifted tables set up where people of all walks of life were clearly enjoying themselves. Two hallways led in completely different directions—one toward Casper’s living quarters and the rooms they sometimes lent to artists who were particularly and amorously “inspired” on given nights, the other into an enormous performance space where a band was getting ready to play.
“Darling Joni, my love, where have you been? It’s been a million years, and Iwill not stand for it!”
We turned toward the owner of the squawky voice I knew and loved. Immediately, I flung my arms out to accept a hug from the one and only Casper LaVoe.
Casper LaVoe—a name that I was ninety-nine percent sure was fake and one hundred percent didn’t care was fake—was a friend I’d known since I was about fifteen. We’d met at a master class sponsored by Alvin Ailey for kids in the Bronx. Everyone we knew thought Casper was crazy when they quit their job at the Metropolitan Opera to rent a leaky old warehouse in Bushwick. But when they renamed it Peek and started throwing some of the most innovative gatherings in the city, it quickly becametheplace for artists to gather and share their work. And party really,reallyhard.
“You look amazing,” I said when Casper finally released me from an eons-long hug. “Love the new braids. The color is hot.”
Casper acted like they were fanning themselves, then picked up one of the multi-colored braids that reached their waist. “Just about raped my bank account, but I had to do it. Blair and I are deconstructingJoseph and the Amazing Technicolor Coatnext week, andI’mgoing to play the coat. Oh! I have the best part just for you if you want to do it.” Casper looked down at my leg. “All better, I hope?”
I made a face, and Casper wilted like a flower left out in the sun too long.
“Tragic,” they said to no one in particular. “She really was an artist on stage.”
Even though I knew Casper was just as dramatic with everyone, I still loved the fact that they really understood what it meant to be robbed of my ability to dance.
Casper was right. It really had been too long since I’d been here. Or around performers in general. My people.
“Darling, what is this we’re wearing?” Casper asked as they twirled their finger, asking me to spin. “This garment. Is that silk? You look like the river at night and in the best possible way—all flowing and mysterious. I want to dive into you and soak for hours.”
The attention made me bloom. I’d kept on the dress from dinner but had taken down my hair and brushed it out to look a little edgier, along with a generous helping of eyeliner and some dark lipstick that made me feel like an underworld fairy.
This was half the reason Casper and I always got along. We were both prone to the same sorts of dramatics when things weren’t going our way, but we also knew exactly how to stroke each other’s egos when they were.
“And what have we here?” Casper demanded as they looked Nathan over with blatant appreciation. “Did someone find herself a bona fide Beatnik? Will we hear him ‘Howl’ in the night for us, hmm?”
