the time to be at each other’s throats. I understand being competitive, because trust me—I am! And I understand wanting to be the best performer in the show, because ditto—I do, too. But we’re also professionals, so dial it down.”
“Hear, hear,” Ann said from her cot.
“These snide comments and personal attacks,” Vi continued, “have got to stop. They’re not helping the show.”
“And they’re upsetting me,” Gertie said, her voice trembling. But she had her chin up, and Vi flashed her an encouraging smile.
“Oh, you’re one to talk.” Frances’s cheeks were flushed as she glared at Vi. “You’ve been just as rude to me as I’ve ever been to you. And your wop sidekick there has called me a whore multiple times. Don’t think I don’t know what ‘buttana’ means. I asked Luciana.”
Marcie’s dark eyes snapped. “It doesn’t mean whore; it means cun—”
“I realize I haven’t been as gracious on this tour as I could have,” Vi said, cutting Marcie off while conceding Frances’s point. “I have regrettably spent too many years fighting for stage time as a solo dancer, which is about as dog-eat-dog a world as one can get. I forgot what it takes to stage a good play. But it’s come back to me over the past few weeks, and I apologize for anything hurtful I might have said.”
Ann applauded softly. “Nicely said.”
Frances snorted. “Words are cheap. And it’s not like I heard Miss May say anything conciliatory.”
“In your dr—” Marcie started, but Vi stomped on her foot. “Ow.” She glanced at Vi, frowned, and then turned back to Frances. “Fine. For the good of the show, I will stop calling you a cunt.”
Gertie gasped at the vulgarity. Vi rolled her eyes.
“And . . . ,” she prompted her travel buddy when Marcie didn’t continue.
Marcie sucked in a breath. “And I’ll try not to say anything else rude.”
Sue entered at that moment, a notebook in her hand, her face—recently washed free of makeup—lined with fatigue. “What are you gals still doing up? It should’ve been lights out ages ago.”
“Tell me about it,” Frances groused before falling back onto her cot, her mood clearly no better for the apologies. Vi wanted to smack her despite calling for a production-wide truce.
Sue glanced around, her brow furrowing as if becoming aware of the tension in the room. “Is there something going on I should know about?”
“Yes.” Ann pushed up onto her elbows, and Vi winced, sure she was about to be called out. “Gertrude was wondering what will happen if Luciana can’t continue with the tour. And I have to admit, the possibility has got me worried, too.”
Vi felt her shoulders droop in relief. God bless Ann.
“Well, I wouldn’t let it keep you up at night.” Sue tossed her notebook onto her cot by the door. Vi suspected now that it was less about keeping the dancers from going out than it was not letting amorous soldiers sneak in. “Mr. Stuart and I were just talking about what to do in case misfortune falls upon anyone else.”
“What about having the dancers as understudies?” Frances asked eagerly.
“We talked about it.” Sue dug around in her suitcase. “But for now, let’s all hope and pray for a speedy recovery for Miss Rossi.”
“Yes,” Gertie agreed fervently. “Let’s all pray for that.”
The rest assented with varying degrees of sincerity, but at least a semblance of peace settled over the room. Vi, wanting to escape the others for a while, pulled the covers over her head. She had never liked sharing bedrooms with people, not even with her sister when they had been forced to bunk together so that Vi’s aunt and uncle could have Fern’s bed. The desire for a separate bedroom had always mystified her parents, since Vi shadowed her older sister the rest of the time, all but forcibly inserting herself into Fern’s life. But not at bedtime. That was Vi’s time to be herself, free of the competitiveness that usually needled her.
No different now than she had been as a child, she snuggled down farther under the blanket and relaxed, turning over the night’s events in her head.
The performance could be counted as a success. She might be reprimanded tomorrow for running onto the stage, but at the moment she was proud of herself. She liked to think she had helped Luciana feel a little better about the situation, since the show hadn’t fallen apart due to her mishap.
Another small success of the night was Sergeant Danger’s backhanded compliment about the show.