![]() ![]() He tilted the china pitcher over a glass, but nothing came out. ![]() It was vilely hot onstage, especially under the costumes and makeup. Lord, I’m parched.” Robby reached for the pitcher. I’m wet as the Hudson in unmentionable places. “You hardly even break a sweat,” Jenny complained. She’d managed to outrun her age so far, though Robby figured she had to be nearing forty. She played Lady Macbeth in their current production, and easily convinced the audience she could bend a man to her will with her raven hair and green eyes. Jenny Daley was a huge star of the New York stage. “Tis the reward of a pure and saintly heart,” Robby said, laying on a thick Irish brogue. “How you have a scrap of energy after three shows a day, I’ll never know.” In the mirror Jenny Daley appeared, looking like an exotic flower in her red kimono. His name, ROBBY RIVERTON, was on the door, and there was a water pitcher and a single rose on the table. “Seeeing Nellie hoooome!” he bellowed in the big finish as he banged into his dressing room. The standing ovation they’d just received had put him on top of the world. He exchanged winks, grins, or backslaps with everyone who squeezed past him. Robby’s melodic tenor echoed in the narrow corridors backstage as he made his way to his dressing room. “It was from Aunt Dinah’s quilting party, I was seeing Nellie home!” ![]()
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