Jerry suddenly began to wonder if the show would make it. It would be hard to tell even with the audience reaction. A studio audience loved every show. Why not—it was free. Tomorrow the reviews would come out, but reviews didn’t matter in television.
Nothing mattered but those damn numbers. They’d have to sweat it out for two weeks. Of course he would get an overnight rating, but it was the second week that counted.
Three minutes to air time. The door opened and Ethel Evans slipped in. Dan nodded coolly. Sig was the only one who stood up and offered her his seat, but Ethel waved it off. “I’ve got a photographer with me. Right now he’s taking some candids of Christie so I can service them to the papers.” She turned to Jerry. “After the show I’ll have him take some shots with Amanda and Christie.” She flounced out of the booth and headed backstage.
One minute to air time.
Suddenly there was complete silence in the control room. Artie Rylander was standing, holding a stopwatch. He threw his hand down, the orchestra went into a theme, the announcer shouted,
“The Christie Lane Show!”
The show was on.
Jerry decided to go backstage. There was nothing he could do by remaining in the booth. His place was with Amanda, in case she developed any last-minute jitters.
She was sitting in a small dressing room fidgeting with her hair. Her cool smile gave him renewed confidence. “Don’t worry, Jerry, I’ll hold the hairspray so you can see the label. Sit down and relax, you look like a nervous mother.”
“I’m not worried about you, honey. It’s the whole show. Don’t forget—
I’m
the one who made the recommendation to the sponsor. Did you watch any of the rehearsals?”
She wrinkled her nose. “For about ten minutes—until Christie Lane started making idiotic mating calls.” She shuddered. Then seeing his face, she added, “But don’t go by me. As a man he’s repulsive, but the audience will probably love him.”
The door opened and Ethel barged in. Amanda looked at her. It was obvious she didn’t place her. Ethel’s glance covered the room. She seemed surprised at finding just Amanda and Jerry. Then she quickly smiled and held out her hand. “Good luck, Amanda.”
Amanda’s expression was polite but curious. She knew she had seen the girl somewhere.
“I’m Ethel Evans—we met at P.J.’s last year. I met you with Jerry and Robin Stone.”
“Oh yes.” Amanda turned away and began spraying her hair.
Ethel sat on the edge of the dressing table, her large hips crowding Amanda. “It seems we’re destined to be thrown together.”
Amanda backed away, and Jerry tapped Ethel’s shoulder. “Off, Ethel—you’re blocking Amanda’s light. Besides, this is not exactly the moment to renew old friendships.”
Ethel’s smile was friendly as she got off the makeup table. “You’ll be great, Amanda. They’ll go hoarse whistling when you come on.” She took off her coat and, without asking, hung it on the wall. “I’ve got to park this somewhere. Listen, I came by for two reasons: one, to wish you luck; two, I’d like you to take some pictures with Christie Lane after the show.”
Amanda looked at Jerry who nodded slightly. Then she said, “All right, but it won’t take long, will it?”
“Just three or four pops of the bulbs.” Ethel started for the door. “I’ll sit out front and watch the show. And look, Amanda, you’ve got to be a sensation. God, if I had your looks I’d own the world!”
Amanda felt herself thawing. There was an urgent honesty in Ethel’s voice and she saw envy in her eyes. She said, “My aunt always taught me it takes more than looks to bring happiness.”
“So did my mother,” Ethel answered. “But that’s a lot of shit. I’ve got an IQ of one thirty-six, and I’d trade it in for half a brain and a pretty face. And I’ll bet anything that your fellow with
his
big brain would agree. By the way, is he coming to catch the show?”
“Robin, come
here?”
The idea of Robin sitting in a studio audience was so preposterous that Amanda laughed. “No, he’s watching at home.”
Amanda’s cool detachment vanished the moment Ethel left the room. She reached out and grabbed Jerry’s hand. “Oh, I hope he’ll be proud of me. Has he said anything?”
“What has he said to you?” Jerry asked.
“He just laughed and said if I wanted to get into this rat race, it was my headache.” Her eyes went to the large clock on the wall. “I’d better go down, the show’s been on for ten minutes.”
“You’ve got five minutes, maybe more.”
“I know, but I want to phone Robin and remind him to watch.
You know him—he might have made himself a few martinis, stretched out and fallen asleep.”
The only phone in the theater was near the stage door. Jerry fidgeted as she stood and dialed in the drafty hall. The music was blasting, the applause was strong, the show seemed to be going well. Amanda hung up as the dime fell into the coin-return box. “It’s busy, Jerry. And I go on in a few minutes.”
“Get going now, you’ve got to cross behind the curtain to your set.”
“Wait—I’ll try him once again.”
“Beat it,” he said almost gruffly. “You’ve got to be in place when the camera swings to you. Go check your props. I’ll call him for you.”
He waited until she disappeared behind the backdrop and appeared on the small set designed for Alwayso. Then he dialed Robin’s number. The droning busy signal continued. He kept dialing until the actual moment of the commercial. “Damn Robin,” he swore to himself. “He knows the girl is going on, why does he have to do this?”
He walked to the wings in time to give Amanda a smile of assurance. Her face lit up and he knew she interpreted it as a signal that he had reached Robin. She was poised and at ease when the camera came to her.
He watched her on the monitor. She photographed like an angel. No wonder she made so much money. She was breathless from nerves when it was over. “Was I all right?”
“Better than all right. Just great. Now you can relax for five minutes—then change, do the lipstick spot, and you’re home.”
“What did Robin say?”
“I didn’t get him. The line was still busy.”
Her eyes brightened ominously.
He grabbed her by the shoulder and steered her to the staircase. “Go up and change. And don’t you dare cry and ruin your makeup.”
“But, Jerry—”
“But what? He’s home, at least you know that. And he was probably watching while he was on the goddam phone. It might have been an emergency, even an overseas call. War could be
declared for all we know. Maybe an atom bomb dropped somewhere. Believe it or not,
The Christie Lane Show
is not the biggest happening in the universe. We only
act
as if we’re discovering a cure for cancer in here.”
Christie Lane ambled over. Bob Dixon was on stage doing his medley. “Didja hear that applause! And all for me! I’m the greatest!” He put his hand on Amanda’s arm. “And you’re the beautifulest. If you play your cards right, Uncle Christie just might take you out for a sandwich after the show.”
“Take it easy,” Jerry said, easing Christie’s hand off Amanda’s arm. “You haven’t put Berle or Gleason out of business yet. And what’s with the uncle bit?”
“Haven’t you heard what Dan-the-man has been saying all these months? I’m the family image. I remind everyone of their uncle or husband.” He turned his watery blue eyes on Amanda. “Doll, do I remind you of any relative? I hope not, because it would be incest with the thoughts I’m thinking.” Before Amanda could answer, he said, “Well, the movie star has finished his off key number. Now watch the
real
pro go out and kill them.” Then he dashed onstage. Amanda stood very still, as if she couldn’t believe what had occurred. Then she turned and started for the phone.
Jerry stopped her. “Oh no, you don’t. You’ve got exactly six minutes to change your dress and touch up your makeup.
After
the show, you can call him. And I’ll bet you a late supper at ‘21’ that he’s watched you. As a matter of fact, I’ll take you both there to celebrate.”
“No, Jerry—I want to be alone with him tonight. I’ll bring him some hamburgers.” She looked toward the stage at Christie Lane and shrugged. “Maybe I’m crazy, but they do seem to like him.” Then she ran up the stairs to her dressing room.
Amanda did the second commercial with equal ease. When the show ended, the small backstage area turned into a mob scene. Everyone was shoulder-punching one another. The sponsors, Danton Miller and the writers were clustered around Christie, shaking his hand. The cameraman was flashing pictures. Ethel came over and grabbed Amanda. “I want to get a picture of you with Christie.”
Amanda broke away and raced to the telephone. Ethel followed her. “Can’t it wait? This is important.”
Amanda ignored her as she dialed. She was conscious of Ethel standing and glowering. Jerry came and stood close at hand, protectively. This time there was no busy signal. It rang once, twice, three times. After the tenth ring, she hung up. Her dime returned. She dialed again. The same monotonous ring, and Jerry and Ethel were watching her. She could see the beginning of a smirk come to Ethel’s lips. She straightened up. She was Robin Stone’s girl! She wasn’t going to let them see Robin Stone’s girl crumple. He wouldn’t like that. When he held her in his arms last night, their bodies close, he had stroked her head and said, “You’re just like me, baby—resilient. No matter what anyone does to either of us, if we hurt, we hurt inside and no one will know. We don’t cry on anyone’s shoulders, or even to ourselves. That’s why we belong together.” She forced herself to think of this now, as the phone kept ringing to emptiness. She hung up and casually took the dime from the coin box. She faced Ethel and Jerry with a smile. “You know I’m an idiot, I guess I was so nervous about the show that I completely forgot—” She stopped, groping for some alibi.
“Was it still busy?” Jerry asked sympathetically.
“Yes! And you know why? He told me he was going to take the receiver off the hook so that no one would disturb him. And I forgot!” She turned to Ethel. “So let’s take the pictures, then I’ll dash to his place as we planned. And Jerry, would you be an angel and call Cadi-Cars? Tell them to send a limo for me.”
Then she walked toward Christie Lane and stood between him and Bob Dixon, flashed her brightest smile and quickly squirmed out of Christie’s arms as soon as the picture was taken. Fortunately he was so mobbed with the agency men he didn’t see her slip away.
Jerry called for the car. He wondered about the phone story and thought it odd that she would forget. But her smile was too genuine. She was absolutely sparkling.
Ethel had also noticed Amanda’s assurance. God, to be going home to Robin Stone—!
But once Amanda was in the protective darkness of the limousine,
her smile dissolved. She gave the driver her home address. Well—eight dollars shot down the drain for the limo. And there were plenty of cabs around. But this had been the only thing to do. She had gone off with her head held high—she was Robin’s girl, and this was the way he would want it.
Robin phoned bright and early the following morning. “Hello, star,” he said lightly.
She had been awake half the night, vacillating between hating him, renouncing him, alibiing for him, and, through it all, wanting him. And she had promised herself to play it cool when and if he did call. But the early morning call caught her off guard.
“Where were you last night?” she demanded. (Oh Lord, this wasn’t the way she had intended to act.)
“Watching you,” he said, in his same bantering tone.
“You were not!” She was breaking every resolve, yet was powerless to stop. “Robin, I called you right before the commercial and the line was busy. I called you after the show and there was no answer.”
“You’re absolutely right. The damn phone started to ring just as the show went on the air. Not that I minded—it was Andy Parino, and I’d rather talk to him than listen to Christie Lane. But after I got off with Andy, someone else called. And I wanted to catch your great performance without any distractions, so the moment you came on, I turned off my phone.”
“But you knew I’d call right after the show.”
“As a matter of fact, I forgot I had turned the damned thing off.”
“Well,” she spluttered, “then why didn’t you try me? I mean, even if you forgot you turned it off you could have called me. Didn’t you figure I’d want to be with you after the show?”
“I know what it’s like after a new show goes on. It’s insanity backstage. I was positive that you’d be the center of attention with your sponsors. I thought you’d probably go off and celebrate with them.”
“Robin!” she moaned in absolute helplessness. “I wanted to be with
you
. You’re my guy, aren’t you?”
“You bet I am.” His voice was still light. “But that doesn’t mean total commitment on either side. I don’t own you, or your time.”
“Don’t you want to?” she asked. It was a wrong move, but she had to make a stab.
“No. Because I could never fulfill my end of the deal.”