Hidden Riches by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.
Published: 2010-02-28T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

“Happy New Year!”

Jed was greeted at the lobby doors of the Liberty Theater by a bald beanpole of a man dressed in a red leather jumpsuit studded with silver stars. Caught by surprise, Jed found himself bear-hugged and back-patted.

His new friend smelled strongly of wine and Giorgio for Men.

“I’m Indigo.”

Since the man’s skin approximated the color, Jed nodded. “I can see that.”

“Marvelous party.” Indigo took out a slim black cigarette, tucked the end into a gold cigarette holder and posed with one hand on his narrow hip. “The band’s hot, the champagne’s cold and the women . . .” He jiggled his brows up and down. “Are plentiful.”

“Thanks for the update.”

Cautious, Jed started to ease by, but Indigo was the friendly sort and draped an arm over Jed’s shoulders. “Do you need some introductions? I know everyone.”

“You don’t know me.”

“But I’m dying to.” He steered Jed through the lobby crowd toward the concession stand, where drinks were being poured by two quick-handed bartenders. “Let me guess.” He stepped back half an inch, cocked his head, drew once on the European cigarette. “You’re a dancer.”

“No.”

“No?” Indigo’s mobile face creased in thought. “Well, with that body, you should be. Gene Kelly had the most marvelous athletic build, you know. Champagne here.” He waved his cigarette toward a bartender. “And one for my friend.”

“Scotch,” Jed corrected. “Rocks.”

“Scotch, rocks?” Indigo’s almond-shaped eyes danced. “Of course, I should have seen it instantly. An actor—dramatic, naturally—down from New York.”

Jed took his drink and dug out a buck for the tip jar. Sometimes, he decided, it was best simply to cooperate. “Yeah. I’m between parts,” he said, and escaped with his drink.

The lobby of the Liberty Theater was fashioned in Gothic style, with yards of ornate plasterwork, pounds of curlicues and gremlins decorating the gilded molding. Over the doors that led into the theater itself were bronze masks of Comedy and Tragedy.

Tonight the area was packed with people who all seemed determined to be heard above the din. The space smelled of perfumes and smoke and the popcorn that erupted cheerfully in a machine beside the concession stand.

Dora would have told Jed that it quite simply smelled of theater.

Guests were milling around, and the attire ranged from white tie to torn Levi’s. A group of three in somber black sat wedged on the floor in a corner and read aloud from a collection of Emily Dickinson. Through the open doors he could hear the band tear into a blistering rendition of the Stones’ “Brown Sugar.”

The Winter Ball, Jed mused, it wasn’t.

The house lights were up. He could see people crowded in the aisles, dancing or standing, talking and eating, while onstage the band pumped out rock.

In the box seats and mezzanine and into the second balcony were still more partygoers, shooting the noise level toward sonic with the help of the Liberty Theater’s excellent acoustics.

An instinct in Jed gave a fleeting thought to maximum capacities and fire codes before he set about trying to find Dora in what seemed to be the population of Pennsylvania.

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