of a song.”) But Olive had instantly shut down the idea.
“Come now, Olive,” Peg had begged. “Let us do it. It’s funny. The women and children in the audience won’t catch the reference, anyhow. This is supposed to be a racy story. Let’s allow things to be more spirited for once.”
“Too spirited for public consumption” was Olive’s verdict, and that was the end of it: Roland didn’t get his song.
Olive, I should say, was not happy about any of this.
She was the only person at the Lily who didn’t get caught up in Billy’s excitement. On the day he arrived, she commenced sulking, and the sulk never lifted. The truth is, I was beginning to find Olive’s dourness awfully irritating. The constant niggling over every dime, the policing of sexually suggestive material, the slavish devotion to her rigid chain of habits, the way she gave Billy the brush on every clever idea he proposed, the constant fussbudgeting, and the general quashing of all fun and enthusiasm—it was just so tiresome.
For instance, let’s consider Billy’s plan to hire six more dancers for the show than we normally had onstage. Peg was all for it, but Olive called the idea “a lot of fuss and feathers for nothing.”
When Billy argued that six more dancers would make the show feel more like a spectacle, Olive said, “Six more dancers adds up to money we don’t have, with no discernible difference to the play. Rehearsal salaries alone are forty dollars a week. And you want six more of them? Where do you propose I get the funds for this?”
“You can’t make money without spending money, Olive,” Billy reminded her. “Anyway, I’ll spot you.”
“I like that idea even less,” Olive said. “And I don’t trust you to deliver. Remember what happened in Kansas City in 1933.”
“No, I don’t remember what happened in Kansas City in 1933,” said Billy.
“Of course you don’t,” Peg put in. “What happened is that you left me and Olive holding the bag. We’d rented out that massive concert hall for the big song-and-dance spectacle you wanted me to produce, and you hired dozens of local performers, and you put everything in my name, and then you vanished to St. Tropez for a backgammon tournament. I had to empty the company’s bank account to pay it all back, while you and your money were nowhere to be found for three solid months.”
“Geez, Pegsy—you make it sound like I did something wrong.”
“No hard feelings, of course.” Peg gave a sardonic grin. “I know how you’ve always loved your backgammon. But Olive’s got a point. The Lily Playhouse is barely in the black as it is. We can’t go out on a limb for this production.”
“Naturally, I’ll be disagreeing with you now,” said Billy. “Because if you ladies will go out on a limb for once, I can help you to create a show that people will actually want to see. When people want to see a show, it makes money. After all these years, I can’t believe I need to remind you of how the theater business works. Come on, Pegsy—don’t turn on me now. When a rescuer comes to save you, don’t shoot arrows at him.”
“The Lily Playhouse doesn’t need rescuing,” said Olive.
“Oh, yes, it does, Olive!” said Billy. “Look at this theater! Everything needs to be repaired and updated. You’re still using gaslights, practically. Your seats are three-quarters empty every night. You need a hit. Let me make one for you. With Edna here, we have the chance. But we can’t go slack on any of it. If we get some critics in here—and I will get critics in here—we can’t have the rest of the production looking ramshackle, compared to Edna. Come on, Pegsy—don’t be a coward. And remember—you won’t have to work as hard as usual with this play, because I’ll help you direct it, like we used to do. Come on, honey, take a chance. You can keep on producing your catchpenny little shows and creeping along toward bankruptcy, or we can do something great here. Let’s do something great. You were always a reckless dame with a buck—let’s give it a go, one more time.”
Peg wavered. “Maybe we could hire just four additional dancers, Olive?”
“Don’t you let him Ritz you, Peg,” said Olive. “We can’t afford it. We can’t even afford two. I have the ledgers to prove it.”
“You worry too much about money, Olive,” said Billy. “You always have. Money’s not the most important thing in