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on the face of the planet. She followed the woman’s directions to a corridor near where they had entered the room. She’d only had half a glass of champagne, but something about the layout of the bathroom made her completely disoriented. The entire room was glass—floor to ceiling windows! She couldn’t pee in front of a gigantic window overlooking Manhattan.
    She decided to just touch up her makeup. She wished she’d paid more attention to those magazine articles about taking your makeup from day to evening in two easy steps, or whatever the advice was. A lipstick rolled around in the bottom of her bag, and she uncapped it for the first time in months.
    And then there was a knock on the door.
    “Um, someone’s in here,” she said.
    “I know. It’s me, Bette—open up.”
    “I’ll be out in a second,” Mallory said, shoving her lipstick back in her bag.
    “Just open the door.”
    Mallory complied, about to leave the room for Bette to use it when Bette pulled her back inside and closed the door behind them.
    “Cool space,” she said, walking over to the window and pressing herself against the glass.
    “It’s a little much for a bathroom,” Mallory said.
    “Hmm. You must not have very strong exhibitionist tendencies. I thought you might have, after last night.”
    She locked eyes with her, and Mallory found herself leaning against the sink for support.
    “Come over here and check out this view. Might as well appreciate it, even if you don’t approve.”
    Mallory crossed the small space and stood beside Bette. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff.
    “Put your hand on the glass. Don’t you feel like you’re on top of the world?”
    “Yes.”
    Bette turned to her and brushed the hair away from Mallory’s face. She ran her hand down the length of Mallory’s hair, to a spot between her shoulder blades.
    “I’m not usually a fan of long hair. But on you, it’s hot.”
    Mallory tried to keep her eyes focused on the city stretched beneath them, but Bette walked to the toilet and started pulling up her skirt.
    “Oh! I’m going to give you some privacy. I’ll . . .”
    But before she could leave Bette was peeing, her fishnet stockings around her ankles.
    “What’s the big deal? We’re both girls.” She nonchalantly finished, pulled her skirt into place, and washed her hands. She turned to Mallory.
    “You can go too if you want. I won’t peek.”
    “No—that’s okay. I’m fine.”
    “I dare you.”
    “What?”
    Bette laughed, a full, throaty laugh that would have been contagious if Mallory weren’t so unnerved.
    “Just kidding.”
    Mallory realized she’d been holding her breath a little. Looking for something to do with her hands, she went back to the mirror and pulled out her lipstick.
    “Wait!” Bette said.
    “What?”
    “Don’t put that on.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because I’m just going to mess it up.”
    And with that, Bette put her hands on Mallory’s face and brushed her lips against hers. The touch was so whisper light, Mallory could almost tell herself she imagined it.
    “See you back out there,” Bette whispered. And with that, she was gone.
    *   *   *
    Mallory took her third glass of champagne from the waitress. Alec threw her a glance, making sure she was holding steady.
    “The best part of the shows happens away from the audience,” Bette was saying. “If you want the real inside scoop, you should have Mallory hang out with me backstage.”
    “I’m writing the article, not Mallory.”
    “Yes, but you’re a guy. I could never bring you into the dressing room. But it’s different when it’s just us girls, right, Mallory?”
    The image of Bette with her fishnets around her ankles flashed through Mallory’s mind.
    “Interesting idea. Okay, I might take you up on that. My deadline is in a week. Any shows coming up soon where you could make that happen?”
    “We’re doing our Christmas show next Saturday night. It’s pretty crazy.” She