The Vaudeville Star

“Goddamn it!”

Vern yelled to no one in particular.

Ruby looked at the stage, but none of the people seemed at all disturbed by his outburst.

“How many times have I told her? She gets top billing, the largest dressing room, everything she asks for, and she can’t make it on time to rehearsals!” he bellowed.

Vern turned to the small man seated next to him. “Max! Write this down. Fire Zeta.” He said the last two words with heavy emphasis.

At that exact moment, a woman who could only be Zeta Riggi, the Italian diva, threw open the doors to the theater and came strolling down the aisle wearing a bright blue gown and a fur cape. Her hat was outrageously large with several ostrich feathers sticking out of it.

“I am here! I am here!” she said to everyone as she approached the stage. The other performers looked on passively at her approach.

“You’re here? You’re late, Zeta!” Vern yelled back.

“So? Am I here? Or am I here? I’m here!” As she spoke, the feathers in her hat danced along with her movements.

“How many times do I have to tell you that money is time, and you waste it!” Vern told his prima donna.

“Oh, I waste it? I waste it? Or do I make you money so you can go visit those brothels and your puttanas down on Houston Street?” she said spitefully, pronouncing the name as howston.

Vernon looked at her and then muttered, “Bitch!”

“Eh? What? What did you say?” Zeta asked. “What did he call me?” she said, looking around at her fellow troupers.

Vernon said nothing, and then Zeta threw everyone a look. “Oh, okay! You call me names—me! The star of this ridiculous show? Then you know what, Vern—I quit! Do you hear me? I quit! Yes! We’ll see how you do without Zeta Riggi, the greatest soprano ever to have lived! Yes, I quit!” She made her way back down the aisle, passing an astounded Ruby as she went.

Vernon looked like he wanted to slap her, and Max was already bounding down the aisle, calling after her.

“Signorina Zeta! Wait!”

“Up yours!” Everyone heard her say.

Ruby sat quietly in the empty audience as the performers onstage began to disperse. Bessie smiled as she made her way back to Ruby.

“W-was that part of the act?” Ruby said, her eyes wide.

“What? Vern and Zeta? Not at all! That’s just Zeta throwing her weight around and Vern not caving in. They do that performance at least once a week,” she said, laughing.

“How does it end?” Ruby wondered.

“Usually after Max and Vern have groveled enough, Zeta will return. But she should be careful. She’s almost thirty-five, and this can’t go on forever.”

Ten minutes passed, and Vernon made his way to where Bessie sat with Ruby. He eyed Ruby with interest but spoke to Bessie.

“I swear, Bessie. Someday that woman is going to drive me into an early grave,” he said coldly.

“Vern, do you have a minute? I would like to introduce you to someone,” Bessie asked.

“Sure, sweetheart. For you, anything.” He lit a cigar that he pulled from his shirt pocket.

“This is my dear cousin, Ruby. She’s come to New York from Mississippi.”

Both women had agreed that to save time and questions Ruby would be “the cousin from Mississippi.” Ruby didn’t mind, and the white lie hurt no one.

“Ruby, this is Vernon—” Before she could finish the introduction, the manager was already eyeing Ruby with renewed interest.

“Ruby, huh?”