Take It With Me

That night, Kitty went out for the first time since she'd gotten to New Orleans. She had spent the evening listening to Tom mumble lyrics and scratch things in a little notepad and make phone calls to the various band members that were apparently scattered around the hotel. She had no clue how she hadn't met any of these band members, but whatever. In the bathroom, she stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her shirt and adjusting her bra strap. It felt good to be in a bra again. She'd never take that small luxury for granted again, that was for sure. She looked in the mirror again, and blushed, knowing how she must have looked, walking around in a thin t-shirt. She wondered if Tom had noticed. A small part of her hoped he had noticed, hoped that he found her attractive, but the bigger, modest, Catholic part of her was mortified at the thought.

"Wanting a man to stumble, Maria Theresa, you are terrible," she mumbled to herself.

"You say something?" Tom called from the bedroom. She heard him pace again.

"No, you keep... doing your thing!" she said, knowing that he was going from the sliding door to the bed, to the hotel door, than back to the sliding door.

He'd only been pacing for two hours.

That was new to Kitty. She wasn't used to musicians. Her father's father had sung in bars sometimes, but Grand-pop was nothing like Tom. She wasn't sure if she could go along with the mood swings and strange rituals and inevitable smoking and drinking that seemed to come along with musicians.

The closest she had gotten to an "artsy" person was her writer brother and poet sister, and even they weren't this bad.

"Warm beer, cold women, warm beer, cold women... platinum blondes... and... damn. Tobacco brunettes! That's it!"

She heard him scratching frantically in the notepad.

"Writing lyrics an hour before a show. Nice planning," she whispered. He didn't hear her.

She continued to get ready, and was brushing her hair out when she heard a knock on the door.

Tom padded out to the door.

"Hey, Anthony! You got it!"

"Yeah, man. Anything for my best bar singer! Where's the girl?"

The girl?

Kitty narrowed her eyes, looking out towards the hall.

"Thanks again, man. I'm sure she'll appreciate it."

"But where is she?"

The man's voice was slightly less chummy than it was before, and Kitty could hear his nasally Jersey accent.

"Goodbye, Anthony. I'll see you at the show."

The door closed, and Tom was suddenly leaning against the door frame, grinning.

"Who was that?" Kitty asked, still primping in the mirror.

"My booking agent, slimy Anthony. But, he brought you something," Tom stepped forward, holding out a white garment bag and a cloth tote. "His girlfriend... well, I told him about you today on the phone, and he said he thinks you're about the same size as his cheating girlfriend, so he brought you over a dress for tonight. And some makeup, even though I don't know if it'll be... the right color, or whatever. But here you go, anyways."

He handed her the dress and the bag and then stepped out of the room, fiddling with his tie. Kitty closed the door, not knowig quite what to do. Breathing in, she laid the garment bag on the counter and unzipped it, pulling the dress out into the open air.

It was beautiful. Deep purple, with a little rhinestone adorning the deep v-neck. The straps were wide and the material was silky and it looked like it would go all the way down to the ground. There was a pair of soft ballet slippers -actual ballet slippers- at the bottom of the bag, and a pair of silver hair combs with little rhinestone flowers on them.

They were beautiful.

She slipped into the dress, and sure enough, it fit, even though it was little snug on her bosom. But other than that, it was perfect. She swept her hair up with the combs and slipped her feet into the slippers and looked in the mirror.

She looked nice. Real nice.

Kitty turned this way and that, watching the way the fluorescents shone on the material. She felt pretty.

Peeking in the makeup bag, she quickly shut it again, seeing from the colors of the stuff inside that slimy Anthony's cheating girlfriend was most likely blond haired and fair skinned. Oh well. She'd just have to do without.

She still felt pretty. And on top of all of that, she was excited. She was going to go out. With Tom.

Another little thrill ran through her. She liked Tom. She really liked Tom. She just hoped she wasn't falling in love with him.