In the middle of the afternoon, the club was empty, except for Alec and Bette sitting at a front table. “If we’re using costumes inspired by the Ballet Russes, I think everyone has to incorporate some element of ballet into her performance or it’s not going to make sense,” Mallory said. “The Ballet Russes is not sexy,” said Bette. “Burlesque is about art, but it’s about sexuality, too. You’re getting too cerebral about this.” “Where was this insight when we agreed on the concept?” said Mallory. Bette narrowed her blue eyes at her. “I tried telling you it was a lame idea, but you’re so infatuated with your little ballet pet, Nadia, that you lost sight of the big picture.” Mallory sat on the edge of the stage, her legs hanging off. She realized she had not sat in that position since her eighth grade play, a production of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. “That’s ridiculous.” “No, it’s true. I’ve never seen that woman even successfully perform, and you let her routine dictate the whole theme.
