wasn’t closely attending the grand finale. He was standing apart from the crowd, his gaze fixed purposefully on me, and I had the sense that he had been watching me for some time. Our eyes met and I lifted my hand in a diffident salute,but Guy made no gesture in response. Then, just to unsettle him, I nuzzled Madeleine’s neck with my lips, tightening my grip on her waist. “Oh, look,” she said again, softly. The sky seemed to be raining stars into a tide of blood steadily rising to meet it. I looked back at Guy, who hadn’t moved a muscle. There’s something wrong with him, I thought, but I got no further than that, for the show was over, and Madeleine, who had turned in my arms, brought her lips to mine.
P hebe’s is spiffed up these days, and surrounded by other buildings, but in the ’70s it was a glittering oasis in the desert of the Bowery, the haunt of panhandlers, drug dealers, and actors. At Phebe’s the beer was cheap, the food wouldn’t kill you, and the proprietor was actor-friendly I went there two or three nights a week. Sometimes Teddy came with me, but he preferred the more literary scene at the Cedar which was closer to Fifth Avenue and the world of his heritage.
I’d never seen Madeleine at Phebe’s, but that Monday night when I went to meet Guy and give him the fifty dollars in exchange for my life, there she was at a corner table, dragging fried potatoes through a pool of ketchup and biting off the bloody-looking ends, while Mindy rattled on across from her. They spotted me and beckoned me to join them, but their table was a two-top and pulling up a chair would have put me in the aisle to the peril of the waitress. “Thanks,” I said. “Thanks, but I’m meeting someone.” Madeleine swallowed more potato, somehow managing to smile around it.
We had returned to the city separately with no particular understanding, but I had her phone number and had promised to call, which I had every intention of doing. I wanted to get the Guy matter over with first. I could tell by her smile that she assumed the someone I was meeting was another woman and that, should this prove the case, she would affect indifference. Mindy had some gossip about an actor who’d been sacked at the behest of the leading lady, who said she couldn’t stand kissing him, and we laughed over that, though actually it wasn’t funny. The power struggles that go on backstage can be brutal and destructive, and I couldn’t help imagining how I would feel if something like this happened to me, which naturally led to some thoughts about the quality of my kissing. “Couldn’t they just get the poor guy a kissing coach?” I suggested and got not only the laugh I was after but an unexpected and deeply reassuring compliment from Madeleine, who said, “You could hire yourself out for that.”
“Do you think so?” I said lightly, disguising the deep seriousness I felt about her answer. Mindy was silent, looking from one of us to the other, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“Oh yes,” Madeleine said. “And I’m a good judge of that. I’ve had a wide experience.”
“I’ll bet you have,” I said.
She took up another potato and wagged it at me. “On the stage of course,” she said.
“That’s the only place it really matters,” Mindy added.
We all laughed at this and then Madeleine announced much too cheerfully, “Look, it’s Guy Margate.”
“He’s coming to meet me,” I said.
He passed inside and stood near the door, surveying the room critically.
“Excuse me,” I said to the girls, leaving them to cut him off at the bar. The last thing I wanted was witnesses to the money exchange. When he saw me, his expression changed only slightly. Fortunately the room was crowded and we were forced to take a seat at the bar.
“So how are you?” I said after we’d ordered our beers.
“Pretty good,” he said. “I have a callback. I just found out.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said. “That’s something to
P hebe’s is spiffed up these days, and surrounded by other buildings, but in the ’70s it was a glittering oasis in the desert of the Bowery, the haunt of panhandlers, drug dealers, and actors. At Phebe’s the beer was cheap, the food wouldn’t kill you, and the proprietor was actor-friendly I went there two or three nights a week. Sometimes Teddy came with me, but he preferred the more literary scene at the Cedar which was closer to Fifth Avenue and the world of his heritage.
I’d never seen Madeleine at Phebe’s, but that Monday night when I went to meet Guy and give him the fifty dollars in exchange for my life, there she was at a corner table, dragging fried potatoes through a pool of ketchup and biting off the bloody-looking ends, while Mindy rattled on across from her. They spotted me and beckoned me to join them, but their table was a two-top and pulling up a chair would have put me in the aisle to the peril of the waitress. “Thanks,” I said. “Thanks, but I’m meeting someone.” Madeleine swallowed more potato, somehow managing to smile around it.
We had returned to the city separately with no particular understanding, but I had her phone number and had promised to call, which I had every intention of doing. I wanted to get the Guy matter over with first. I could tell by her smile that she assumed the someone I was meeting was another woman and that, should this prove the case, she would affect indifference. Mindy had some gossip about an actor who’d been sacked at the behest of the leading lady, who said she couldn’t stand kissing him, and we laughed over that, though actually it wasn’t funny. The power struggles that go on backstage can be brutal and destructive, and I couldn’t help imagining how I would feel if something like this happened to me, which naturally led to some thoughts about the quality of my kissing. “Couldn’t they just get the poor guy a kissing coach?” I suggested and got not only the laugh I was after but an unexpected and deeply reassuring compliment from Madeleine, who said, “You could hire yourself out for that.”
“Do you think so?” I said lightly, disguising the deep seriousness I felt about her answer. Mindy was silent, looking from one of us to the other, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“Oh yes,” Madeleine said. “And I’m a good judge of that. I’ve had a wide experience.”
“I’ll bet you have,” I said.
She took up another potato and wagged it at me. “On the stage of course,” she said.
“That’s the only place it really matters,” Mindy added.
We all laughed at this and then Madeleine announced much too cheerfully, “Look, it’s Guy Margate.”
“He’s coming to meet me,” I said.
He passed inside and stood near the door, surveying the room critically.
“Excuse me,” I said to the girls, leaving them to cut him off at the bar. The last thing I wanted was witnesses to the money exchange. When he saw me, his expression changed only slightly. Fortunately the room was crowded and we were forced to take a seat at the bar.
“So how are you?” I said after we’d ordered our beers.
“Pretty good,” he said. “I have a callback. I just found out.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said. “That’s something to
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