Puppet Graveyard

3

The guy outside the corridor leading to the dressing rooms was cracking his knuckles, working those hands which were big enough to drive tent-stakes through hard-packed clay. He stood there in his blue serge suit, bald head reflecting the stage lights, totally impervious. To the drunks, the noise, the buxom girl shaking her tits on stage.

When he saw Kitty coming, he frowned, placed his hands on his hips and just shook his head. He took her by the arm when she was close enough, pulled her into the corridor and shut the door behind them so he could hear himself think.

“Listen, we go through this shit every night, you and I. It’s getting old,” he said to her, that big mitt still on her arm. “Now I’m going to tell you, honey, what I tell you every night: Mr. McBane and his dummy don’t want any company. All that shit on stage… it’s just an act, okay? They’re not looking for followers.”

Kitty bristled, pulled her arm away. She was small and fine-boned, thin as a peach twig… but about 110 pounds of poison if you pissed her off. “And I’ll explain to you one last time that I only want to talk to Mr. McBane. Nothing more.”

“Listen, honey, I think the guy’s married and the boss here, he don’t like anybody playing around in the dressing rooms. That’s not the kind of place we run.”

Kitty tried not to laugh. No, the Bamboo Lounge was strictly a class act. All those drunks out there had royal pedigrees and the strippers on stage wouldn’t be turning tricks after lights out. “You listen to me,” she said with venom. “And you listen good. I’m not a groupie. I only want to interview Mr. McBane for my college magazine. I’m a drama major and this is my assignment. It’ll take ten minutes. Now why don’t you be a good boy and just ask the man if he’s interested?”

The big man sighed, worn down. “You know, I’ve been in this business a lot of years, sweet thing. And in that time I’ve gotten real good at reading people… and you? You’re full of shit. You’re not with any college rag. We both know it.” He threw his hands up. “But if you’ll quit crawling up my ass every night, I’ll go ask the man. Just this once. And if he says no, that’s it. I don’t wanna see you tomorrow night or the next. I don’t wanna see you again period… got it?”

Kitty smiled.