B00C4I7LJE EBOK by Robin Skone-Palmer Read Free Book Online Page A

coming to work tomorrow?” I asked Karen as we pulled up to her building.
    “Sure, why not?”
    “Well, you know, we did work both Saturday and Sunday, and I just thought that we’ve put in a couple of twelve-hour days so we might, you know, get a day off?” I didn’t know why I should feel hesitant about asking. It seemed as if we were always working, especially Karen, who continually maintained the costumes, mended torn gloves, glued a broken cigarette holder. And if she wasn’t doing that, she was grocery shopping or doing other errands for Phyllis and Warde. Sometimes Phyllis did some of her own shopping, but most often Karen did it in her so-called free time.
    I’d spend my mornings typing the letters Phyllis had dictated the afternoon before. In addition to that, I took all of Phyllis’s phone calls. The only calls that went directly to her were family or friends. Promoters and people seeking interviews called for her at the theater. I returned the calls in the morning, setting up tentative appointments for her to approve. I also talked to fans, promising an autographed picture to be left at the desk or giving an address where they could send a letter.          
    So, by the time we reached Karen’s on Thursday evening, it had been a long trip, and I thought maybe Phyllis would have said, “Don’t come in tomorrow,” or Karen would say, “We always take off a day when we get home from a trip.” But it was not to be. Friday was just another working day, although it was the twelfth in a row.
    Overtime pay? No such thing.
     

9
     
    A utumn in New York! It sounded good—and it was. A convention had booked Phyllis to entertain for one night. Really? They were paying for four people to fly cross-country for an hour’s appearance and picking up the hotel tab for two nights.
      Impressive! Karen was thrilled. Going back to New York for her was like going back to London for me. When Phyllis had played the female lead in the Broadway production of Hello , Dolly! , they’d been there for weeks. Karen made plans to get together with friends and show me around.
    We arrived late in the afternoon with just half a dozen suitcases this time. Phyllis and Warde had dinner with friends, so Karen and I were free to “go out and play” as Phyllis put it. Karen called her friend Marlene and we went for Chinese food. The lights of New York were everything I expected, as was the frantic pace that everyone embraced. We ate at a cozy Chinese restaurant, obviously one that Karen had patronized many times. Her friends, who owned the restaurant, were happy to see her; she introduced me. We bowed and smiled, and they spoke a language I didn’t understand. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was eating, but everything tasted so good, I didn’t want to ask. By the time we finished, I was full and tired, and happy that Karen suggested we cab it back to the Plaza.
    In the morning I simply had to explore the shops. I suppose New York had a lot of historic sights worth seeing, but I couldn’t resist the allure of Fifth Avenue. Karen and I gazed into the windows of the big department stores, and in one of the smaller shops I spotted a pair of boots and fell in love.
    “There’s no price on them,” Karen pointed out. “That’s a bad sign.”
    “Let’s just go ask.”
    Karen trailed me into the posh shop. As I sank into the springy, dark-green carpet, I knew I was way out of my league. The salesman approached with an air of disdain.
    “May I help you?” he inquired in a voice that clearly indicated he had little desire to do so. I considered just turning around and leaving, but the place was as empty as a Shea Stadium at Christmas, so I decided I couldn’t be infringing too drastically on his time.
    “I wanted the price of the boots in the window,” I managed in my snootiest voice.
    He didn’t need to ask which ones; they were the only pair of boots in the window. He smiled glacially and quoted me a price close to the