I pulled out of that old war-horse years ago. Right now I'm in the process of locating some fresh new talent. We're mounting an Equity showcase of Peter Pan Grows Up. It's fascinating really. We've created a whole new chapter in Peter's life."
"You don't say?" the man exclaimed, mouth wide with delight. "Peter Pan is one of my very favorite favorites!"
"Another coincidence," T.S. declared brightly. "See, in my new show, he grows up, marries Wendy and moves back to London. They have children of their own and my show is all about his struggle to mature while still maintaining his childlike wonder. And, of course, Tinkerbell is terribly jealous—she represents the younger woman figure—and all of this threatens his very… Peter Panishness. In the end, he comes to realize that his childhood will always live on in the form of his children and grandchildren. So he gives Tinkerbell the boot and he and Wendy retire to Florida and open an alligator farm, a touch of irony you see, and live happily ever after. It's all very, very nineties. A guaranteed smash."
Auntie Lil stared at him in open-mouthed admiration.
The man's eyes had grown wider and wider. "Have you cast the lead yet?" he asked artfully, as if slightly bored, but willing to humor T.S.
T.S. inspected a minute flaw in his sweater. "No. We need a fresh face, a new name, an unknown with tremendous star quality. But with the maturity to handle sudden fame, of course. It's going to Broadway, you see. After nine months, if the reviews are even lukewarm or better. I consider it a waste of my time to mount anything without a strong future. Of course, the backing is relatively modest."
The man's face fell.
"But I think eleven million will be enough to get us through at least the next year."
The mention of cold cash inspired a playful leap in the man. He cast any pretense of ennui to the wind in favor of appropriately youthful… Peter Panishness. "Listen, when you start auditioning, will you give me a call?" he asked gaily, chirping like a member of the Vienna Choir Boys. "If it's a fresh face you need—God knows, I'm fresh!" He twirled violently in a complete circle, dipped down low and extended an arm, his eyes rolling up in the top of his head as he gave T.S. a large wink. He was holding a small white card.
T.S. took it gingerly and examined it. He had created a monster. gregory rogers, it read, dance master extraordinaire, equity & aftra. T.S. smiled broadly, "Of course. I see that you have your Equity standing already. Convenient." He placed the card in his wallet, then looked back at the apartment building with a worried frown. "Now, if I could only find my great-aunt. Auntie Lil here is only in town for a few days and anxious to see her sister. I've been so busy with my accountant and all, I haven't really kept up with Aunt Emily…"
"Try the sixth floor," the young man offered promptly. "I know everyone on one through five, so if she's here, it's got to be the sixth. Here." He ran lightly up the stairs, bouncing as if he had small springs imbedded in each instep. He unlocked both front doors with a flourish, and scurried back to help Auntie Lil up the outdoor stairs, not noticing her determinedly granite expression. He then bounded to the elevator and pressed the button for them.
"I think we can take it from here," T.S. assured him. Good God. Enough was enough. Any more encouragement and he'd want to carry Auntie Lil over the threshold.
"Call me?" he asked T.S. in a naughty-boy tone, wagging a finger in playful admonishment. He then gave a little half-wave and disappeared down the steps with a stride so determinedly peppy that he kept popping into view above the door glass as if he were on a trampoline.
"Good God," Auntie Lil declared once they were safely in the elevator. "If we had any respect at all for Mary Martin's memory, we'd put that young man out of his misery."
T.S. sighed. "It was kind of a dirty trick to play on him, but I didn't like his attitude."
"And I always thought I was a good liar." She looked at T.S. in keen admiration. "Of course, you inherited your talent from me."
"Probably did." It was one point he would not argue.
They reached the sixth floor and stepped out into a small hallway with cheap blue carpeting. The