coming. I had been back and forth, back and forth, seating people all night. I stood near the door, waiting for the late-night crowd to trickle in from the theater or the movies. The band was playing, and the dance floor was packed.
About midnight the door opened, and two men walked in, dressed in snappy suits and hats. I saw the hatcheck girl’s face as one of them handed her a tip, a folded bill that obviously pleased her. Some swells from Boston, I guessed. Then one of them turned around and it was Jeff Toland.
“Providence!” he called. He strode over, smiling, and took my hand.
“Mr. Toland!” I couldn’t believe he was right there in my hometown. “We don’t see a Hollywood star in here every day.”
“Call me Jeff — you did this summer at the theater. Hey, you promised to come and see my show.”
“I’m sorry, I was planning to …”
“It’s all right — it was a dog, and we’re closing out of town. The producers pulled out, the skunks.” I could tell he was a little drunk.
The other man slipped a twenty in my hand and asked for the best table. I showed them to a booth that gave them the best view of the dance floor but was still private, so Jeff couldn’t be seen from the door.
“Perfect,” he said. “Now if you dance with me I’ll feel even better. You should see this girl dance,” he told the other man. “I’m not kidding.”
I remembered the last time we’d danced, outdoors at midnight underneath a big fat moon, showing off for the cast.
“I’m not allowed to dance with customers,” I said. “Sorry.”
The opening chords of Tony’s act began, and I hurried toward the bar for the glass of water to use as a prop. I gave the high sign to Sammy, the manager, that there was a VIP in the house. Then I waited through the beginning of the act for my cue.
“Sorry, folks, I’m a little hoarse tonight. Anybody got a glass of water for a dying man?”
The couples in front held up a glass of water if they had it. Some drunk usually yelled out that water went better with Scotch. I made my way through the tables, holding the glass high and throwing out my first line. I could feel the pleasure of the audience and hear their laughter, and I could tell by Tony’s upstage wink that the night was going well.
I sang my first song, and then we did the duet. I looked over at Jeff’s table and saw him applauding madly. He beckoned to me. I looked over at Sammy and he nodded. A Hollywood star was in the house, and he would get whatever he wanted. Including me.
I walked over to the table and he stood. “That was terrific, kid.”
I realized that he was calling me “Providence” and “kid” because he didn’t remember my name.
“You were really something. And you look like a million bucks. Did you grow up or something?”
“Or something, maybe.”
“Sit down and have a drink. Okay, not a drink — a soda. Meet my friend here. This is Mr. Tommy Fabian. He’s a very big agent, so smile at whatever he says, and maybe I’ll forgive him for talking me into the turkey that’s closing tomorrow. Tommy is from Providence, how do you like that, so he’s showing me the town. Just to get my mind off my misery. We’ve got a room at the Biltmore. He’s Paying.”
Nervously, I slid into the booth. Jeff appeared to be drunker than before, but I guessed he was blowing off steam after a bad show.
He waved at the waiter, and I saw Jamie enter with Billy. Billy scanned the room and I shrank back, but he saw me.
Of course, I thought. Just my luck.
Billy registered that I was squeezed in next to Jeff Toland. Even from here I could see how he stiffened.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said quickly, “I have to get back to work.”
“Ah, duty calls. Well …” Jeff slid out of the banquette and stumbled a bit just as I got out. I reached out to steady him, my hands on his arms, and he leaned over and kissed me on the lips. “Sorry to get fresh. I’ll regret that in the morning. But then, I’m going to regret the whole last six months. Ten years ago I was golden, and now I’m doing stock. And schlock.”
“You’d better sit down, Mr. Toland.” I pushed him back down.