Hansel knew nothing of the combination of chores and rituals that Sugar and her staff went through to close the club, and the dressing room was tucked into a windowless corner of the storage room. He might have been asleep for ten minutes or two hours when the sounds of his own snoring woke him. Sugar had returned and noiselessly taken up her spot in front of the largest and best-lit mirror. The confection of colored chiffon in which Hansel had last seen her hung half off a handy hook, and she was wrestling with the sky-blue up-do wig in nothing but a bra and a pair of basketball shorts when she espied Hansel rustling in the mirror and said hello.
“Gretel said I might find you down here,” she said. “When I didn’t see you in The Cage after the show, I figured you’d gone home.”
Hansel shoo
