The Life Fantastic by Liza Ketchum

Author:Liza Ketchum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 2017-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

30.

Teresa, Maeve, and Pascal practiced for the Lafayette all day. While Teresa went over her songs, Pascal and Maeve worked on a new trick. Finally, at Maeve’s insistence, they all took naps. “We’ve got to be rested and ready,” she said.

The Lafayette was as elegant as any theater on Broadway, with bright lights blazing on the marquee. Teresa’s palms were damp and her throat was scratchy and dry. She watched Maeve dress in a crowded dressing room below the stage while questions swarmed like bees in her mind. Why had Pietro asked them to come? He read newspapers all the time—had he seen Papa’s ad? He wouldn’t turn her in—would he?

Floorboards rumbled above them as the audience filed in, and stagehands rushed up and down the stairs, carrying props. Teresa snapped her fingers at Edna. “You go on for me, pooch.” The dog set her head in Teresa’s lap, waiting for an ear rub. Maeve stood with her back to Teresa, putting on her makeup. She wore a tight red skirt and a low-cut blouse. “You look nice. But I can’t do this,” Teresa said.

“You don’t have a choice, doll. The orchestra has your music—you’re going on.” Maeve opened her lipstick. “My hands are shaking. You trust me to make you up?”

“Do what you want,” Teresa said. “They’ll hate me.”

With their makeup in place, they combed each other’s hair. Pascal brushed the dogs. “Ready, Pascal? We’re on second,” Maeve said.

Pascal nodded. Teresa glanced at her brother. His face was pale and his eyes seemed dull. Guilt twisted in her belly. She gave him a quick, sideways hug. “Just one more night,” she said. “You’ll be great.”

He shrugged her off and lifted his juggler’s bag. It rattled and clanked as they started up the stairs.

“Brattleboro meets Harlem.”

Teresa recognized Pietro’s voice before she turned around. He was dressed in the cutaway suit and white starched shirt he’d worn in Brooklyn. His flower was the only change: a white carnation in his buttonhole. “Nervous?” he asked. Before she could answer, Pietro reached for Pascal’s bag. “That’s heavy, young man,” he said, and hoisted it over his shoulder. “You have new tricks up your sleeve?”

Pascal finally smiled. “Maybe,” he said. “Don’t look in the bag.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Pietro said. “You’re smart not to give your secrets away, even to your friends.”

Friends. Teresa flushed, embarrassed that she’d thought badly of Pietro. “Is your father here?”

“Right behind you.” Teresa glanced down the stairs. Mr. Jones tipped his top hat to her but didn’t smile. He looked as nervous as she felt. They climbed to the stage together. The wings were full of performers, some in fancy dress, others wearing acrobats’ costumes. Except for a blonde woman in a ball gown, every other face was brown or black. She and Maeve and Pascal pulled the dogs into the wings on stage left. Edna licked Teresa’s hand. “Thanks, girl,” Teresa whispered. “That helps.”

“When do you go on?” Maeve asked Mr. Jones.

Pietro held up seven fingers.

“How did you get your lucky number again?” Teresa asked.

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