Madison Blake's Arc

Chapter 4 of 7

Madison went upstairs the moment Victoria left. The back room sat at the end of the hall, door still marked STORAGE in peeling tape. She pushed it open and saw what she had been avoiding for a week. A folding table. A cracked mirror leaning on a chair. One bare bulb. The contract had promised a private suite. This was a closet with ambition. She measured the room with a tape from the bar's toolbox. Twelve by fourteen. Small, but workable. She had one night and whatever cash Harper would sign loose from the bank. Madison called the contractor Victoria had used for the stage. She read him the clause from the contract line by line. Mirror lights. Clothing storage. Styling station. Private bathroom. "The bathroom's the killer," he said. "There's a utility sink through that wall. I can tie in by morning if you sign now." She signed. Harper cut the invoice release before dinner. The crew worked through the night. Madison stayed with them, holding a flashlight, handing up screws, painting the last cabinet door at four in the morning. At ten, Scarlett arrived. Red hair pinned high, black gloves to the elbow, heels loud on the stairs. She did not say hello. She walked past Madison like Madison was furniture and stopped in the doorway of the finished room. Mirror bulbs blazed around the vanity. Dresses hung on rods along both walls, spaced the way Victoria said theater people liked them. A curling iron and flat iron sat charging on the counter. Brushes stood in a jar. The new door to the small bathroom was still tacky with paint. Scarlett walked the perimeter. She opened a cabinet. She closed it. She ran one gloved finger along the vanity and looked at the fingertip. She flicked the bathroom light on and off. She sat in the chair, faced the mirror, and turned her head side to side under the bulbs. Madison stood in the doorway and said nothing. Her hands were paint-stained. She kept them behind her back. "The bulbs are warm-white," Scarlett said. "I prefer daylight. Change them before Friday." "Done," Madison said. Scarlett stood. She pulled off one glove, finger by finger, and dropped it on the vanity like a claim. "I'll be here Thursday at six for hair," she said. "If my glove is still there, I stay. If it's moved, I walk." She left without looking back. Madison heard the heels down the stairs, then the front door. Harper appeared at her shoulder with the ledger open. The overnight build had cleaned out the week's invoice buffer. The contractor's second-half payment was due Thursday, before Scarlett's call time. No invoice yet. No release yet. And the bank would not move a dollar without both. Madison looked at the glove on the vanity and started counting hours.