Tender Deception Read Online Free PDF Page B

later when she drove to the theater. “What is this? Drive-myself-buggy day?” she groaned furiously. She never did this to herself. Maturity had long since risen to squelch reproach as well as careless passion. Her decisions had all been made three years ago. It was all water over the dam.
    Sliding onto her dressing-room stool, Vickie greeted the other four permanent female members of the troop as she switched on her mirror lights, listening and joining into their banter as she carefully began to apply her makeup base with a damp sponge.
    “Vickie?”
    She turned from her concentration to see Connie Weber calling her from the other side of the room. Connie was the troop’s youngest member, a petite redhead, still struggling for confidence.
    “Would you mind running through the song again before curtain?” Connie asked tentatively.
    “Sure!” Vickie agreed, remembering her own days of stage fright with compassion. She and Connie harmonized on “Where Are You Going,” a song Vickie considered to be the loveliest in the show despite the popularity of “Day by Day.”
    Painting a large red heart on her cheek, Vickie smiled. “I’ll be with you in just a second.” A few final touches completed her zany makeup and she was on her feet, slipping into her ragamuffin wig and heading for the door.
    “I don’t know why you’re bothering,” Terry Nicholson, a former New Yorker, jeered smugly. “She never gets it right.”
    “Terry!” Vickie admonished, surprised and wondering what had set off the venom from the tall, sophisticated brunette. Maybe Terry was angry about Othello. She had been cast in a variety of small roles, mostly male, and she heartily resented the fact. But Monte tolerated no prima donnas—they were lacking males for the play and Terry was the most likely candidate to make up for the deficiency because of her height and throaty voice. Little Connie had been chosen for Bianca, the role Terry had wanted.
    “Be nice!” Vickie said with a touch of amusement for the attractive friend she didn’t quite trust. “Monte promised you Lady Macbeth for next year, and, besides, Connie has a beautiful voice. She just needs a little push!”
    Terry grimaced dryly and sniffed. Shrugging, Vickie left her behind and hurried to the depths of the left stage wing to find Connie, peeking her head discreetly around the curtain to check out the size of the house.
    It was full. Handsomely dressed customers sat at every table, some boisterous, some quiet, all eating with apparent pleasure. Vickie felt the small tug of excitement she always did before curtain, no matter what the play, no matter how long she had worked in the theater. Still, Godspell was special. The rolling repartee of the play worked well with their close-knit ensemble, drawing to the inevitable ending of the death of Christ with a poignancy that sent many an audience member off into the night teary-eyed and sniffling. Even atheists! Vickie thought, laughing to herself.
    “Places—ten minutes!” The strict command of Jim Ellery, the stage manager, drew Vickie from her meanderings.
    Hurrying back, she found Connie with Lara Hart at the practice piano. Lara, a fortyish woman of simple, quiet dignity, gave her a grateful smile. Monte’s brilliant but often perplexed musical directress had been with him off and on since he had opened the place. All cast members had to be able to carry a tune, just as they had to know some rudiments of dance and mime, but they were not singers per se, a fact that sometimes left Lara sadly frustrated. “Thanks for rushing, Victoria,” Lara said softly. “Connie does seem to do better when she’s had a run through.”
    “I didn’t rush!” Vickie assured her. “And I never mind rehearsing the song.”
    They worked on the song and Connie hit every note unfalteringly. What quality she has! Vickie thought with a touch of open envy. Her own voice was a pleasant alto, strong and melodious, but more from training than