Mr. Moonilgio folded his bony arms and stared at Madison with his bleary, seen-it-all gaze. “Your voice is nice. The crowd liked you some.” He turned his pointy chin, scanning the mix of people in the audience, and Madison looked with him. The couples were trying to look cool, unattached and with it—essentially they were trying to look like the singles—and the singles were trying to look together, forward-thinking and date worthy—essentially they were trying to look like the couples. All in all, they were what you’d expect for the given situation, but Mr. Moonilgio wasn’t satisfied. “The door was okay, but the bar isn’t doing that well. That’s where the money is, you know. I don’t give a shit if they like the show—really, all that matters is how much they drink. I’m not going to make any money on you. I’m going to make money on the drinks they buy while watching you.” He looked her up and down, saying pointedly, “You need to sex it up. That’ll get ‘em to buy drinks.”
