“Yes, sorry,” Mia said. “Ashton, Zakiyyah. Zakiyyah, Ashton. But, Ashton, you can call me Mia. My friends do.” She smiled. “And you can call her Z.”
“Zakiyyah will be fine,” said Zakiyyah.
Mutely Ashton studied Mirabelle, and then Julian. He said nothing. He turned to Zakiyyah. “Zakiyyah,” Ashton said. “Like Obadiah?”
“What?”
“Hey ya, hey ya,” Ashton said.
She looked annoyed. “What is that?” she said.
“Um—a song? By Obadiah Parker?”
“Never heard of it. What’s it called?”
Ashton spoke real slow. “‘Hey Ya.’” He gave Julian a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look.
Meanwhile, Mirabelle was looking around the chock-a-block prop store, her jaw open.
Among other things, Ashton had a display shelf of tin Brodie helmets and gas masks. “Why do you have those?”
“Productions like to rent them,” he said. “Plus my old man was born in London during the war, so it’s a hat-tip to him. Not that he’s ever been here to see it.”
Ashton had an I Dream of Jeannie bottle, a perfect replica of the original.
“Where did you get that?” Mirabelle asked in fascination, as Zakiyyah stood with her arms crossed, saying nothing, and not looking around.
“I ask the top Jeannie bottle guy in the country to make them,” Ashton said. “One at a time.”
“And the guy makes them for you to order?” She smiled.
“Sure, he does. Because I ask nicely.” Ashton beamed his full-teeth smile back at her.
“You can get a lot, asking nicely.”
“You sure can.”
An unsmiling Zakiyyah rolled her eyes. “Mia, I gotta go, I’m going to be late. Can we hurry it up?”
“Oh, yeah. Actually, I came to ask Julian a favor—asking nicely.” Mirabelle beamed a full-teeth smile at Julian, who tried to maintain a poker face. “I have a callback for that Paradise in the Park audition at the Greek you drove me to yesterday. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Sorry it ran so late. Did you get to your dinner on time?”
“No,” Ashton said. “He was unforgivably late. But is that why he was late? Because he was at auditions with you?”
“Uh . . .” Mia said.
“Ashton,” Julian said.
“Mia,” Zakiyyah said.
“Oh, yeah, sorry, Z. Anyway, they want me to play Beatrice, isn’t that great?”
“Yes,” said Julian.
“Mia,” repeated Zakiyyah.
“I remembered that you told me you two had a prop store, and I was wondering if you might have some kind of a glittery snazzy dress I could borrow for like a day. But something spectacular. I need to look like the kind of girl Dante would go all the way to hell for.”
“That’s a lot to ask of a dress,” Ashton said.
Hitting Ashton on the back with his fist, Julian said they might have something and motioned Mirabelle to follow him to the gown room, leaving Ashton and Zakiyyah alone.
40
Free Licks
THEY STOOD. WITH HER GLARE, ZAKIYYAH QUESTIONED Ashton’s choice of attire. Ashton was wearing his favorite faded vintage T-shirt that said Free Licks. Zakiyyah was having none of it.
“What?” Ashton glanced at his chest, not one to let anything go. “You don’t like my shirt?”
“Did I say anything? I’m just standing here, minding my own business. But now that you ask—who would?”
“It’s a name of a band. I take it you’re not up on indie rock? Shame. They’re very good.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Perhaps you should get your mind out of the gutter. Unless”—and here Ashton raised his eyebrows and razzledazzle smiled—“you prefer it there. In which case . . .” He opened his arms.
Zakiyyah did a double-take. “Are you kidding me? Are. You. Kidding. Me?”
“I’m making a joke. Can’t a man joke?” Lowering his arms, he stepped away.
“What about that did you think was funny?” said Zakiyyah.
“I’m not going to explain what a joke is,” Ashton said. “That’s like explaining tennis to a Doberman.”
“So now you’re comparing me to a vicious dog?”
“Oh my God. I can’t.”
“No—you can’t,” said Zakiyyah.
Ashton studied his phone for the time.
Zakiyyah studied her watch. “Mia! Can we please hurry it up! I gotta go!”
“Great!” Ashton muttered.
They were still scowling when Mia emerged, wearing a thousand-watt stage smile and a gorgeous billowing ankle-length purple taffeta gown, Julian walking dazed behind her.
“I take it back,” Ashton said. “You found the dress Dante would go to hell for. Good job, Jules.”
Julian mumbled something, averting his eyes from her.
“Yeah, Mia, that’ll work,” Zakiyyah said brusquely. “Can we leave? Some of us work in the mornings.”
“Like us,” Ashton said.
Zakiyyah suppressed a scoff. “Did you ask him how much the rental is going to cost you?”