It was eight-thirty by the time Val and Karen checked into their suite at the Ritz. They were both busy looking at the room-service menu. Dr. A’s shots had really taken away all thoughts of food. Karen looked at Val and laughed.
“Why the furrowed brow? Can’t you decide what to order from column A?”
“I wish it was that. It may be me, but when we were reading through the script today, I felt as though they’d trimmed down my part quite a lot. Honestly Karen, when I first read the script, I thought I would have a problem learning all my lines. Today I seemed to be standing around doing nothing. That creep of a fellow, what’s his name, Danny Lane? Well his part has grown. He never had a solo; now he has two. One of them was mine.”
“You know it’s the first time I’ve ever heard you speak like this. You really are showbiz and all that jazz.”
“I suppose I am. I’ll tell you this, Karen. I’m not going to let him do it. It’s my show. I’m the fucking star.”
“That’s my girl. But right now can we concentrate on something really serious, like ordering? I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry, and it usually takes forever for room service.”
Karen had skillfully changed the subject. They ordered everything in the h’or d’oeuvres column along with a bottle of Beaujolais. Once the food was delivered, they enjoyed picking at their picnic, which was laid out on the bed, as they watched TV. She knew she had to stay up in Boston for a while, number one, to make sure Val was together and number two, she needed to have a chat with H.R.
Val was given her new nightly ration to help her sleep. One yellow. By the time she’d brushed her teeth, she was ready to drift off. Karen didn’t take her nightly dose right away; she had a few chores to attend to before she closed her eyes.
She had been a generous angel for H.R.’s previous shows and had been invited to the backers’ audition for this newest venture of his. She’d invested quite heavily in this new one and was able to get a few other people interested enough to invest. She called the desk and asked to be put through to his room.
Val had been right. Her part had been trimmed down. Karen had heard some of the decision making that afternoon at the theater. It was time for her to hear from the source and find out what exactly was going on. H.R. didn’t beat around the bush.
“What else can I do? I’ve heard rumors. You know how it is. I can’t take the risk of bringing in a multimillion dollar show with a star surrounded by scandal.”
It made sense. Karen couldn’t argue with him, but she tried to emphasize the importance of making Val still feel like the star. H.R. said he understood, but wouldn’t commit to anything further. She had to be satisfied with that. She mentioned she’d be staying in Boston for a while just before he hung up.
Still wound up, she found her address book and started turning pages. She wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, just someone she could talk to. A friend. Out of all the names and numbers in her book it was amazing how few of the people filling the pages fell into that category. She got to the G’s and found one! Glen Grayson.
She had grown up with Glen. They had both been chauffeured to the same private school and described themselves as “Trust-Fund Babies.” She didn’t know if he’d be in the city, since he was always traveling. But, as he had put it the last time she ran into him, “I love the city in the fall. It’s so civilized. New Yorkers are here.” She hoped he’d be around and dialed his number.
They didn’t see each other that often but had bumped into each other at a house party in the Hamptons just before Labor Day. Glen made his entrance just late enough, just tanned enough, and with just the right arm piece. He was more subdued than usual, explaining to her privately that he was off everything for a while and therefore was feeling a little insecure. She had tried to convince him that he was still light years ahead of most of the other mortals there. In her opinion, Glen was truly a genius. His voice broke into her thoughts.
“Hello.”
“Hello, you’re home. How marvelous!”
“Karen? This is fucking unreal. I mean I just got into town and I was just about to call you. I love when that happens. Good vibes. Why don’t I come over instead?”
“I wish you could, but I’m up in Boston.”
“It must be divine, if it got you to Boston.”
She was laughing and happy.
“Funnily enough, it’s nothing like that. I’m up here because a friend of mine just went into rehearsal for the musical based on our favorite novel, The Best Of Families.
“I have money in that.”
“Who do you think put you on the angel list?”
“I should have known. So how’s it looking for my money?”
“Why don’t you come up and see for yourself. I’m staying at the Ritz for a few days. H.R. can’t say anything. We own most of the show anyway.”
“I’ll be there tomorrow. Can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too you.”