"Besides 'stop raiding your granny's closet'?" Tansy said. "Where'd you get that dress? Little Shop o' Virgins?"
I snorted a laugh, and tried covering it with a coughing fit. Angelique turned on me, her teeth bared like an enraged lapdog.
"Sorry. I--" I put my hand over my mouth as if stifling another cough. "I'll get some water. Please, go on."
"No, since you're so eager to perform, Miss Vegas, let's see you give it a try."
Becky nodded, her eyes pleading with me to take over. I stepped up.
"Now, this will be cool," Tansy said. "Show her how it's really done."
"Tansy?" I peered into the darkness. "Are you still here?"
"Oh, come on. Don't play that. This is the closest I've come to a camera in thirty years!"
"What's wrong?" Angelique sneered. "Let me guess. She's fading. I overworked her."
"Could be. But I can probably..." I peered into the dark garden. "I can just make her out. She's tiny. Maybe your size. Pale skin but long black hair and almost...copper eyes."
"That's what got me the part in Lily White," Tansy said. "They thought I looked exotic, like a fairy changeling should. Mom always said it was because my dad was Italian, but really, he was black. I mean, African American. He died in Vietnam, and her parents made her spread that story about him being Italian."
It must have been obvious I was listening to something, because Becky prodded me to relay the message. After some encouragement from Tansy, I did.
The crowd pressed closer, giving me its full attention. I could say it was the love of gossip, but I've always thought that puts too harsh a spin on it. People like stories, and what is gossip if not stories?
"African American?" Angelique said. "You can't prove it."
"Check my birth certificate," Tansy said.
I relayed the message. Becky motioned for her assistant to write it down, though he was already scribbling furiously.
So we continued. A natural comedic performer, Tansy regaled the crowd with quips and anecdotes until there wasn't a distracted face in the crowd.
"This is a waste of time," Angelique finally cut in. "Ask her what we really want to know. What we called her here for. How did she die?"
"I'm sure that's no big secret. Tell her to ask me something good." Tansy grinned. "Like what color underwear I was wearing."
"This is ridiculous," Angelique snapped when I didn't relay her question. "Doesn't she want closure? The guilty party brought to justice?"
Tansy frowned. "Guilty party?"
The last minutes of a ghost's violent end are wiped clean once she passes over. Tansy might not even know she'd been murdered--and enlightening her now was a cruelty I'd never inflict. Instead, I reached out, as if pulling her back.
"Tansy! Wait! She didn't mean--" When Tansy cocked a brow, I mouthed "Gotta go," then called, "Tansy! Please. We won't bring that up again. Come back."
"Fine," she sighed. "I'll leave. But can I talk to you later?"
I hesitated. When a ghost says, "I'd like to talk to you," what she means is, "I want you to do something for me." But Tansy had helped me. Though I probably couldn't return the favor, at least I could hear her out. So I nodded, and she disappeared.
"I DON'T know how I'll top that," Grady laughed as I walked off camera.
"I'm afraid you won't get the chance tonight," Becky said.
Grady's hearty smile stiffened.
"We've racked up overtime for the crew already, and that's definitely not something I care to tell Mr. Simon on the first day." She motioned Angelique forward. "Next time, hon, if you're struggling, don't push it. Let the others take their turn. It's only fair."
Angelique's cheeks reddened. I fussed with my evening bag, as if I hadn't overheard. However gentle Becky's reprimand, it should have been made in private. Performers have to stomach public criticism with every review or snarky blog, and no one likes taking any more than necessary.